Dark Eyes of London (25 page)

Chapter Forty-Eight

‘But you knew that already,’ Sully said.

‘We found that out this evening. We saw a friend of Lisa’s, who had presumably a copy of what you saw.’

‘Not sisters,’ Sully murmured, staring into space.

‘Did you have any idea?’ Tom asked.

‘None at all. Did you?’

Tom shook his head. ‘What happened next?’

‘While I was reading the stuff,’ Sully said, ‘Jane came home. Unexpectedly. Saw me sitting in there reading this stuff and went ballistic. Called me all sorts of stuff…’

‘Then walked out?’

‘No, not quite. After a while she calmed down and started to talk more rationally. Any more coffee?’

Amy got up and made them all a second cup.

‘She calmly told me the whole story,’ he continued. ‘I thought you might have known.’

‘No. No idea. I always knew them as sisters. Lisa said nothing to suggest otherwise.’

‘She said they were in fact cousins. Their  fathers were brothers, Lisa’s a couple of years younger than Jane’s. Just as Lisa was eighteen months younger than Jane.’

‘I knew that, obviously. I was aware that there was only a short gap between them.’

Thanks,’ Sully said, taking the coffee from Amy. ‘She said when Lisa was eighteen months old, her mother was diagnosed with cancer, and died a year or so later. About a year after that, her father was killed in a car crash.   So little Lisa was orphaned at four years old, no other brothers or sisters.’

‘I had no idea,’ muttered Tom. ‘No idea.’

‘Well, Jane’s father and mother took her in. They were the nearest relatives, after all. Ended up adopting Lisa.  So they went from cousins to sisters.’

‘And remained so,’ Tom said. ‘So what does this have to do..?’

‘Plenty, mate, plenty. They appeared close, didn’t they?’

‘Well, while Lisa and I were married, yes.’

‘On the surface, maybe. As they got older, and I think it was about the time their father, Jane’s father, died; about the time their mother went into the home that certain things began to dawn on Jane. The prognosis for her mother isn’t that great, and there’s the question of the estate. Their house was huge wasn’t it?’

‘Sure was,’ Tom confirmed. ‘Very big.’

‘Well, even after her mother’s care costs have been allowed for, there’s still a mighty big inheritance. We’re still talking thousands, lots of thousands.’

‘Hold on a minute. Are you telling me Jane murdered Lisa for an inheritance?’

‘No, no, I’m not saying that. Not really anyway.’

‘Not really? What do you mean, Sully?’

‘She came to realise that if her parents hadn’t adopted Lisa, she would be the sole beneficiary of the estate.  With Lisa in the picture, she would be in line for fifty percent less. So there was always that tension when they were together.  They did sister stuff together. You know the sort of thing: meeting for lunch, shopping trips, Lisa would come over on her own or with a boyfriend for dinner, but something was always under the surface. And it seemed to get worse and worse.’

‘Was Lisa aware of this?’

‘Not at first, no; but one time they had a huge row about something - I’ve no idea what - and Jane blurted it out. Lisa said something like tough shit, and the relationship started to become really strained.’

‘What about your affair?’

‘Our  affair? That started about that time. May have been because of that, maybe, I don’t know. But it made Jane resent Lisa even more. Even when it was over. She - she started to kind of change… Not the Jane I met. Sort of - harder; someone with their own agenda.’

‘She told me she was pregnant,’ Tom said.

Sully scoffed. ‘When did she tell you that?’

‘It was the day she came over to see me. Just after Lisa died.’

‘There’s no baby. Never has been, as far as I know anyway. We hadn’t even discussed one. One of her fantasies? She works in a shop, right? Turns out she told some of our friends she was a sales executive.’

‘She also told me the two of you lived in a house.’

‘Like the one Lisa lived in, I suppose?’

Tom nodded, saying nothing.

‘Well, there you go,’ Sully said, then pausing a moment, as if to reflect. ‘Anyway, things sort of came to a head the day before Lisa...’

He paused again, swallowed, and rubbed his forehead.

‘They had had a row over the phone,’ he continued. ‘Lisa hung up, which really pissed Jane off. She tried calling Lisa the next day, but Lisa wouldn’t pick up.

‘So she decided to meet Lisa after work to have it out with her face to face. She went to Canary Wharf to catch Lisa as she left the office, but either got there late or Lisa left early because as she got off her tube, she saw Lisa getting on, but in the opposite direction. She said she ran across the platform and just managed to get on the train, but a carriage further down the train. She had no idea Lisa was headed to meet you. Every stop she had to get off, check Lisa wasn’t getting off, and get on the next carriage. After two or three stops she eventually found her. They started arguing, and that’s how Lisa missed the Waterloo stop.’

‘But why Green Park?  Why the Piccadilly?’

‘Jane said she asked Lisa where she was headed. She said nothing about you, but that she had a friend who she needed to talk to about what was going on. So she was going to see him.’

‘It was a guy who lives in Earls Court. That’s why she went to the Piccadilly platforms. He told us about them.’

‘But what about meeting you?’ Sully asked.

Tom shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Assuming she intended to meet me still, assuming she wanted to talk to me about what was happening at work; all that seemed to have been overtaken by the row she had with Jane. We figured she was going to let me know once she got off the tube; you know, got a signal. All supposition: the real story died with Lisa.’

‘All I know is what Jane told me. She followed Lisa to the other platform. They continued to argue as Lisa waited for the other train. Then finally, Jane turned and left. But as she was going, Lisa made some comment about Jane not deserving any of their parents’ money, and Jane couldn’t help but turn back and push her. She said she had no idea Lisa was so close to the edge of the platform.

‘She said the platform was so crowded with rush hour passengers that nobody noticed what was going on, so she just mingled with the crowd.’

‘And said nothing. She could have said it was an accident.’

Sully said nothing.

‘So, after she told you this: what happened?’

‘Once she told me all this, she seemed - sort of relieved. As if she had got something off her chest. She put her coat back on, and said she had to go out.’

‘Out where?’

‘Just out. Said there was something she had to do.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘Must have been an hour, maybe an hour and a half.’

‘Any where you think she could have gone?  Any friends?  Anybody she might stay over with?’

Sully shook his head sadly. ‘Nobody.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ Amy asked Tom. ‘Are you going to the police?’

Tom ran his hand through his hair. ‘To be honest, I don’t -’

He was interrupted
by Amy. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, looking at the television.

On the muted screen there was a travel update. It was reporting delays on the main line between London and Brighton. Tom picked up the remote and un-muted the set. They got the tail end of the report.

‘…delays
of up to ninety minutes owing to an incident at South Croydon
.’

Tom and Amy looked at each other. They both knew what had happened.

Chapter Forty-Nine

‘Here you are,’ Tom said as he passed Amy her glass of dry white wine, and sat down with her on the bench. They were on the terrace of
The Needle
, a wine bar by the side of the Thames, on Victoria Embankment between Hungerford and Waterloo Bridges.

‘Thanks.’ She swirled the wine in its glass.

‘Cheers,’ Tom said, and took a long mouthful of his ice cold lager. ‘Ah; that hits the spot,’ he added.

It was a warm spring evening, and they had spent this particular Sunday strolling arm in arm beside the river, along the South Bank, across the bridge to Westminster, then back along the embankment.

Amy rested her head on Tom’s shoulder, and opened her mouth to say something, but stopped.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I was just going to say - this time last year, things were so different for me. In such a short space of time, I’ve got a new home, new job.’

‘New man.’

‘New man,’ she repeated, tapping her head on his shoulder.

‘Any regrets?’ he asked.

‘None at all. You?’

‘Me neither. Only…’

‘Only what?’

‘Only I wish it could have been a different way.  So many people died; some of them people I had known for years…’

She reached up and kissed him. ‘I wish that too,’ she said.

‘Jane must have been ill,’ Tom said softly after a moment. ‘There can’t be any explanation for what she did.’

‘I suppose knowing she’d lose half of her inheritance, then pushing at Lisa on the platform just kind of sent her over the edge.’

‘Mm. I never thought she did it deliberately.’

‘You never contacted Sully.’

‘No, I keep thinking about him. Especially after our agreement to keep in touch after the funeral. Keep meaning to call him.’

‘Yeah, but Tom, it’s a two way street. He hasn’t contacted you, either.’

‘That’s true.’ He paused. ‘Wonder where John Sykes is now?’

‘Hidden away somewhere,’ laughed Amy. ‘Somewhere in South America, I expect.’

Silently, they both took in the view from the terrace.  Two pleasure boats chugging along the river, three or four smaller vessels; across the river was the London Eye, the South Bank. In the distance they could make out the silhouette of the London Bridge Shard building.

It had been a gloriously sunny day: now the light was fading; to the west of them the sun was beginning to set, and the skyline was bathed in its glow.

Tom indicated across the river. ‘Just behind the Eye,’ he said. ‘That’s where Waterloo station is.’

‘Mm?’ Amy looked at him inquisitively.

‘That’s where it all started. For me, at any rate. That’s where Lisa and I arranged to meet.’

Amy rested her head on his shoulder again and he put his head on hers. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Tom spoke first. ‘We need to make plans,’ he announced.

‘For what?’ Amy looked up.

He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Just plans, that’s all. For the future.’

‘Well, the first plan,’ Amy retorted, ruffling his hair, ‘is for you to get your hair cut.’

‘Hair cut?’

‘So you get out of that habit of running your hand through it.’

‘Do I do that? I never noticed.’

‘Jeez.’ She shook her head.

‘I was thinking,’ he went on, ‘of looking for somewhere else to live. My place was small enough with just me there. Since you brought all your stuff over, we can hardly move.’

‘That’s a point. Mrs da Costa will miss you, though.’

‘I’ll survive. I’d like to do some travelling, as well.’

‘Where did you have in mind? Go see your parents?’

‘Good God, no. Well, maybe one day.  I always had an inkling to go to Florida. Ever been there?’

‘Never been to America.’

‘I’ve only been once. One of those pre-Christmas shopping trips to New York. Years ago. But I was looking at a book at work the other day. It was quiet, and a customer had just returned it, and I started browsing through it. It was about some guy whose brother disappeared on a trip to Florida, and he flew out there to search for him.’

‘Did he find him?’

‘No idea. I only read the first few chapters. But it seemed a cool place to visit.’

‘I always wanted to make a trip to Thailand,’ Amy said.

‘Thailand? Any reason why?’

‘Not really. I saw a TV programme about it once, and I thought
that
would be a cool place to visit.’

‘Well, it looks like we’ve started our plans already. First, find a larger place; then Florida; then Thailand.’

‘Reality check,’ said Amy. ‘Let’s find a place to live first. Trips round the world later. Much later.’

‘Why?’

She squeezed his arm as she spoke. ‘On the salaries of a librarian and a receptionist, we’ve hardly got the money to go jetting off anywhere, have we?’

Tom finished his lager and grinned at her.

‘Haven’t we?’

THE END