A Poison Tree (Time, Blood and Karma Book 3) (24 page)

“What about the anonymous letter that Jack Irving received?”

“Same story.”

“In summary, then, you have sweet fuck all to link Fosse either to the poison pen letters or to Monique’s disappearance.”

“That’s about the size of it, at present.”

“At present?” I snorted. “He’s run rings around you.”

Banks
sounded offended. “He has run rings around us all, Mr. Braddock, if I may say so. If Fosse does indeed have your fingerprints on an incriminating letter and your saliva on a whisky glass in his safe, you are done up like a kipper. Nice little insurance policy he’s taken out there.”

“
Yeah, Fosse likes insurance policies. I should consider myself lucky you don’t suspect me, shouldn’t I?”

“That can change, Mr
. Braddock. If something untoward were to happen to Mrs. Braddock, for instance, I might have to revise my opinion on your culpability.”

Anger surged through me.
“Nothing is going to happen to my wife.”

“We must all hope
not.”

36

ADELE

After her job in the Bargain Mart ended, Adele managed to get a few hours’ work each week at a new women’s clothing store. It gave her some respectability, and would be seen as an ‘authentic’ occupation in the eyes of the churchgoers and the vicar of St. Mark’s. She was aware, however, that it was a wafer-thin fig leaf to disguise her other, less socially-acceptable activities at the Gold Club. Even smaller than Eve’s, she reflected. The meagre income she earned in the dress shop would not be enough to keep the eponymous financial wolf from her door.

She had
therefore asked Miss Connie if she could work more shifts at the Gold Club, and the madam was happy to acquiesce. This made juggling her dual life more demanding, and the possibility of discovery more likely.

To make matters worse, her last regular client,
Robbie, was having breathing-related health problems, which in turn had reduced the frequency of his visits to Adele’s apartment. This further squeezed her finances at a period when her mother was becoming more demanding of her support.

All plans to visit Glasgow had to be put on hold as Adele could not afford the time off from work.
If her situation deteriorated further, she mused, she might have to offer to sleep with her landlord who was making noises about increasing the rent.

Adele had remained in touch with Rosie Fletcher following her time in Leicester, and now had three people with whom she communicated by email. Rosie had gone backpacking in Central America, and sent her photographs from Guatemala and Belize. She was aiming to travel down to Peru to see the ruins of Machu Picchu if she could persuade her parents to fund the extended trip. It was the sort of adventure Adele could only dream about
, and it caused her some pangs of envy.

So far as her other email correspondents were concerned, it was situation normal. Her old friend Moira continued to keep her posted on her life in “bloody freezing Aberdeen”, and Ross was still country hopping. He was currently in Moscow, performing
an unspecified security assignment for some Russian oligarch whom Adele had never heard of. She worried for his safety. In her book, men who carried guns usually came to a bad end, but she went on playing the charade with him that all was well, both as to his situation and her own.

And then there was Simon …

The Reverend Simon Fletcher looked around the faces of his congregation. His expression was sad, unlike the cheery face he habitually presented to the world.

“This is a time of great trial for one of us here today,” he said, his words echoing around the cold church. “You are, I am sure, all aware of the recent sorrows that have befallen our dear friend, Eleanor.”

Only too aware,
thought Adele from her usual place in the rear pew. Unless you didn’t read the papers and never watched local television news, it would have been impossible to avoid the lurid, prurient reports of Max Harper’s death at the hands of Jack Irving, and the latter’s critical condition. The journalists had had a field day, and seemed to be competing with each other as to how salacious they could be in their outpourings on Max Harper’s affair with the Irvings’ schoolgirl daughter. Adele pitied Harper’s wife, who appeared to have conducted herself with dignity throughout the media frenzy. Eleanor had clammed up and refused to make any comments to anyone. She had been forced to remove Ruth from her school. It had been besieged by uncaring
paparazzi
anxious to get pictures of the
Leicester Lolita
.

That morning the girl at the eye of the storm, Ruth Irving, was with her mother at church. They both looked
as if they were only just keeping it together, and in spite of Eleanor’s insufferable personality, Adele felt an outpouring of sympathy towards the older woman. Of course, she kept her empathetic response to herself. You never knew with Eleanor how she would react at the best of times, and to have expressed commiseration which might be misunderstood for pity, would have been to invite down the wrath of the proud upon Adele’s undeserving head. So Adele avoided eye contact with Eleanor and hoped her demeanour alone would convey both sadness and support.

“At such times as these,” Simon continued, “it is difficult to know what to say. It is hard to find the words that will bring comfort. Life sometimes deals some heavy blows. I
know that for Eleanor her strong faith will be a great support. Our hearts also go out to her daughter, Ruth, who is with us this morning.”

Adele saw Ruth’s head tilt forward, but Eleanor remained straight-backed,
unbowed in the face of adversity, her eyes fixed on Simon.

“I know that I speak for everyone here when I say that whatever help and friendship we can offer will be freely given. In the days of decision ahead, we will be here for you both
, whenever you need us. And now, I should like us all to say a silent prayer for the Irving family, and especially we will remember Jack in that prayer.” Simon bowed his head.

Although Simon spoke in vicar’s code, Adele knew what was meant by
days of decision
. Jack Irving was on life support, being kept alive by machines. Eleanor had to make the call to switch them off, something which, Adele supposed, went against her deepest-held beliefs.

She studied Simon, as he stood, unmoving, exuding compassion.

He was a good man in a world where decency was undervalued. He was gentle, in a time when aggression and overarching ambition were the fashion. He breathed ethics in an atmosphere poisoned by the toxicity of self-interest and cynicism.

And Adele allowed in something she had been fighting for months. A realisation that
could no longer be denied, despite its irresolvable implications.

She was in love with Simon Fletcher.

37

DAVID

Max’s funeral, as one might expect, was a ghastly event.

Anna had moved in with her mother while all the sensational news reporting went on. Although she received sympathetic treatment, the presence of reporters and photographers served as a constant reminder of how her life had crashed and burned around her. At least at the farm there was nobody hanging around outside the front door with a camera, Natalie made sure of that.

The burden of making funeral arrangements fell on Anna, although Claire and I helped. There seemed to be a million things to do. The matter of the death certificate, the administration of Max’s will and estate, further discussions with the police, and countless other tasks thrown up by the abrupt ending of a life, all served to pile further distress on Anna. All things considered, she coped well.

Then there was the time she and I had spent together in London. That had to remain secret. That hurt her too, I could see. When we found ourselves alone – and I deemed she could process the information – I told her everything about Fosse and the true facts of Claire’s non-affair with Jack.

“Claire has been so supportive of me,” she said
, “and I have slept with her husband. She doesn’t deserve that. She was faithful and I was faithless. I’m no better than Max when it comes down to it.”

“Anna, it is entirely different. You’re nothing like Max. If anything, this is all my fault. I’m the one who told you Claire was having an affair.”

“Whether or not Claire misbehaved is irrelevant, David. The plain fact is that I wanted to make love with you. An opportunity arose and I took it. We might as well be honest about it with each other. If I can’t be honest with you, I can’t be honest with anyone.”

I held her hands. “We both took the opportunity,” I said. “I wanted it too.”

“And do you know what’s so awful? Even with everything that has happened, I would do it again. I must be a real psycho bitch.”

“You’re still in shock.”

She looked away. “Yes, I must be.”

Max’s
parents flew in from Australia. They did not know what to say, whether to apologise to Anna for their son’s behaviour or to mourn with her. Anna was gracious and controlled and there were no angry scenes of recrimination. As soon as the sparsely-attended service at the crematorium was over, the Harpers got back on a plane to Sydney. Max was their only child. God knows what thoughts tormented them.

My father was uncharacteristically supportive during this period, and Nang made sure Anna knew she was always available. Somehow it brought the two families closer together. Nang and Natalie started spending much more time with each other and became Ladies Who Lunch.
Katie made a couple of trips back from university to ensure all was well between her parents, and left reassured.

So many conversations went on that I lost track of who knew what details about the goings-on of 1999. But nobody found out about Anna and me, or even suspected anything so far as I could tell. If that news had broken … well, everything would have been broken.
The fabled tree Yggdrasil would have fallen in the most destructive manner imaginable.

Elsewhere, t
he police investigation into Monique Fosse’s disappearance became bogged down from lack of evidence. Bill Munks kept his distance. Eleanor Irving consented to switching off the machines that kept Jack alive.

And one morning, Jim Fosse turned up at my office.

Sandra closed the door behind her, leaving me alone with the American.

“Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you through this window, Jim?”

“Probably not. Although I’d be quite heavy to lift.
You might injure your back.”

“What do you want?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?”

“You’re not staying that long. What do you want?”

Jim emitted a deep sigh. “English manners are so overrated. I just stopped by to say my farewells.”

“Oh?”

“I have a new assignment in Thailand. It’s time to move on. The house is up for sale. It holds too many painful memories of my dear wife.”

“I’m sure,” I snorted. “Well, goodbye.” I steered him towards the door, but he evaded my grasp.

“You know, it’s a funny thing, but following your last visit to my house, while I was abroad, my house was broken into.”

“Really? Did they get much?” I said,
sounding disinterested.

“Some drawers had been opened and the contents scattered around, but the
televisions and laptops were still there. They were obviously after the safe. They broke into that with a crowbar or something similar. I should have bought a more substantial one.”

“Yes, you should have had an alarm system installed too. I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t have one. Careless of you. Overconfident, even. I suppose you relied on Monique to take care of things while you were abroad. But of course she’s no longer around. Ironic, eh? It seems wives might have their uses after all.”

His eyes narrowed.

“
My lights were all set on a timer, so they’d come on at night. That way, anyone would think I was at home, even when I wasn’t.” He paused. “Of course, someone who had a copy of my travel schedule would know I was away.”

“Unless they broke in during the day. Most burglaries occur around three o’clock in the afternoon, I understand.”

Jim continued to squint at me.

“So what was in the safe, anyway?”
I asked.

“Some letters, a whisky glass and two thousand pounds in cash.”

“Maybe if you’d kept the whisky glass in the kitchen it wouldn’t have been stolen.”

He grunted.

“Oh, by the way,” I added, “I heard on the grapevine that you’d made an anonymous donation of two thousand pounds to a charity looking after the victims of domestic violence. Well done.”

“Thank you,” he said sourly.

“What did the police have to say about it?”

“Nothing. I didn’t call them in. I’ve had enough dealings with the police lately. Besides, I kn
ow they wouldn’t investigate it properly. Even if they did, I doubt they’d be able to find any evidence as to the identity of the burglar. He struck me as a careful type.”

A
big smile suddenly lit up Jim’s face and he extended his hand. “Very well played though, David. I underestimated you.”

I ignored the hand. “As usual, Jim, I have no idea what you are talking about. Now get out of my office, you fucking psychopath, before I do something I would honestly not regret.”

1999.

Quite a year, in retrospect.

The world did not end. Well, not for those of us still left, it didn’t.

My world changed though, and I changed with it.

Maybe I lost whatever innocence I had left. I
finished the year less optimistic about humanity, less open, more inclined to gallows humour, more able to lie.

Braddock Motors continued to thrive. Harry showed himself the man for the job at our Coventry showroom
. England did not win the Rugby World Cup. Hereditary peers lost their right to vote in the House of Lords. Portugal returned Macau to China, and control of the Panama Canal reverted to Panama. The European Space Agency launched the XMM-Newton satellite, Information from which was to be handled at the University of Leicester.
Yay, Leicester
. Finally, something to shout about.

But as the crowds gathered worldwide to usher in the new Millennium, 1999 had one last surprise to throw at us.

Anna was pregnant.