The Dead Wife

Chapter Six

Two Years Earlier, Conmere Resort Centre, 10 August, 10.30 a.m.

Elizabeth took a final sip of her Earl Grey tea and, glancing down at the little dogs sitting expectantly at her feet, she picked up the croissant from her plate, broke it into three and chucked it onto the terrace. ‘You can afford to get fat,’ she said as the dogs eagerly gulped down the evidence.

She checked her watch for the fourth time. Surely the breakfast meeting Harry was attending with his mother and brothers was over by now. She looked at her phone in case she’d missed any messages from Harry, but there were none. Harry had said the meeting was primarily to discuss the sale of some land to a housing developer. The twenty-acre site on the edge of the estate was prime development land and, from what Harry had gleaned, outline planning permission for up to one hundred houses would be granted.

The land was worth in excess of 3.9 million pounds. Elizabeth couldn’t understand the hesitancy of her mother-in-law. Pru Sinclair wasn’t convinced about selling for any price, whereas both Harry and Dominic could see the potential. Naturally, pathetic little Mummy’s boy Owen had taken his mother’s side and the family were at an impasse. Elizabeth drummed her manicured fingernails on the bistro table. She hated being shut out of the business discussions like this.

‘Morning!’ came a voice.

Elizabeth turned her head and saw Natalie, Owen’s wife, coming along the terrace with her three children in tow – the twin boys, Max and Oscar, in their double buggy and three-year-old Tilly on the buggy-board. Great, just what Elizabeth needed, the next generation of the Sinclair dynasty squawking around her. Yes, they were Harry’s niece and nephews, and on the whole they were generally lovely and very cute, but that was when there were enough pairs of hands and the adults outnumbered the children with at least a 2:1 ratio. When the ratio was not in the adults’ favour, Elizabeth struggled to find her charity.

‘Hi, Natalie,’ she said, plastering on a smile. ‘And hello, Tilly. How are you?’

Tilly jumped off the buggy-board and headed towards Elizabeth, a sticky lolly positioned in her hand like a medieval jousting pole. ‘Cuddle!’

Elizabeth eyed the lolly and noted the sticky face. Deftly, she managed to catch Tilly’s wrists and avoid any direct contact with the sweet. God knows what Natalie was thinking, letting the child have a lolly this early in the day. Elizabeth managed the briefest of contacts before picking Tilly up and sitting her on the chair opposite.

‘Are they still in the meeting?’ asked Natalie, jiggling the buggy into place. One of the twins, Elizabeth couldn’t work out which one, began to grizzle. Natalie rummaged in the changing bag and produced a ready-made bottle of formula milk. She offered it to the child, who immediately stopped complaining but whose cries were replaced by his sibling’s.

‘Here, let me hold that,’ offered Elizabeth, feeling sorry for her sister-in-law as she struggled to fish out the other bottle.

‘That’s better,’ said Natalie once twin number two was catered for. ‘Thanks. I was hoping Owen would be out by now. We’re supposed to be going to my friend’s today.’

‘What, and missing Sunday lunch? How did you manage to get a pass for that?’ Getting out of a Sinclair Sunday dinner was equivalent to a Houdini escapology trick.

‘It’s my friend’s birthday,’ said Natalie with a wry smile.

‘They’ve been in there ages,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I didn’t think it would take this long.’

‘Do you know what the meeting is about?’

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in her sister-in-law’s direction. Natalie was very sweet, but she either had no interest in the business side of things or, more likely, didn’t have the time. ‘It’s about the twenty acres that Carter Homes want to buy. Hasn’t Owen mentioned it?’

‘Oh, that! Yes, he did tell me, but I was only half listening. I think he said Harry and Dominic thought it was a good price and they should sell, but Pru didn’t agree and Owen backed her up. Is that it?’

‘Pretty much.’

Natalie was distracted by Tilly’s sticky hands and took a wet-wipe from the changing bag hanging on the back of the pushchair. ‘I don’t get too involved, but I think Owen wants to do something with the land; I’m not sure what though.’

‘Hopefully it will get sorted out today,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I mean, 3.9 million pounds … that’s nearly a million each.’

‘How much? Wow! I didn’t realise we were talking those kinds of figures.’

‘It’s not as if that part of the estate is used for much either, other than rambling or mountain biking. Even then, there are better trails on the south side of the estate. For the use it gets, plus the added costs of its upkeep, it’s not worth it. It doesn’t attract that much income per annum. Certainly not 3.9 million pounds’ worth.’

‘Gosh, you sound like you should be in the boardroom yourself.’

Elizabeth gave a small laugh. ‘Oh, I intend to be one day.’

It was Natalie’s turn to laugh. ‘Yeah, like Pru would ever let that happen.’

‘Don’t forget, it’s my background. I’ve come from the travel industry. I was head of PR. I do know my stuff,’ said Elizabeth, withdrawing the bottle from the now dozing baby’s mouth. ‘I do actually have an official role here as PR Officer. I think they all forget that sometimes.’

‘Ah, but not a shareholder. Not able to vote on anything,’ replied Natalie. ‘In effect, an employee.’

‘For now,’ said Elizabeth, unable to ignore the irritation she felt at Natalie’s accurate summary of her position. ‘Things do change, though, and, as frustrating as it may be, I simply have to be patient and bide my time until the opportunity arises. And it will.’

Chapter Seven

The White Swan, Arundel, Wednesday, 8 May, 11.50 a.m.

Steph stepped off the train at Arundel and was glad she’d only brought a lightweight jacket with her, the warmth of the May sunshine hinting at the imminent arrival of summer. She arrived first at the pub, found a seat near the window and placed her notebook on the table. Steph’s Twitter profile picture was a clear photograph of herself and it would be easy for Sonia to spot her.

Steph’s gaze trailed the people walking past the pub. Arundel was a popular place with tourists and the clement weather had drawn them out. A woman walking across the bridge towards the pub caught her attention. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail and the red-framed glasses she wore looked stark against her pale complexion. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a pair of lace-ups and a lilac fleece. Before the woman even appeared in the doorway, Steph was certain it was Sonia Lomas. The woman had an aura of sadness about her, and as she paused to scan the pub Steph could see the emptiness in her eyes, the slight droop in the shoulders of someone carrying the burden of grief. The woman met Steph’s gaze, nodded and approached the table.

‘Sonia Lomas?’ asked Steph, albeit needlessly, as she stood up to greet her.

‘Steph Durham?’

Steph held out her hand, which Sonia shook. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She gestured to the seat opposite. ‘Can I order you a coffee or a tea?’

‘Coffee, please. Black. No sugar,’ said Sonia.

Steph returned a few minutes later with the coffee and sat down opposite Sonia. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘It’s much easier to speak face to face than over social media.’

‘I assume it was also to weigh me up,’ said Sonia. There was no malice in her voice. ‘Just to make sure I’m not some crazy woman who can’t accept the outcome of the police enquiry.’ The last words were spoken through gritted teeth.

‘I’m interested in the truth,’ said Steph. ‘Whatever that might be.’

Sonia looked across the rim of her coffee cup. ‘The truth is, my daughter was murdered.’

‘Mrs Lomas,’ began Steph. ‘Sonia …’ She looked at the older woman, waiting for approval at the use of her Christian name. Sonia Lomas offered no objection, so Steph continued. ‘Why do you think Elizabeth was murdered?’

Sonia placed her cup carefully down on the table. ‘She was frightened. Things weren’t working out with her husband. She wanted to leave but was too scared.’

‘She told you that?’

‘She left me a voicemail saying as much.’

‘Did you ever speak to her in person about it?’

‘I didn’t get the chance. I phoned her straight back but she said she couldn’t talk. I tried again the next day and the day after but each time she said it wasn’t a good time. Then she sent me a text message telling me not to worry, she knew what she was going to do and she’d be back home as soon as she could.’

‘Do you still have the voicemail?’

‘Of course,’ said Sonia, a touch of indignation in her tone. She fished in her handbag and retrieved her mobile phone. ‘Dial 121 and listen to saved messages.’

Steph took the phone and accessed the voice message. She listened to it twice. Elizabeth’s voice was younger-sounding than she had imagined and Steph tried to match it to the image she’d retrieved from the internet. ‘Hello, Mum, it’s me. Look, I’m sorry to call like this and leave a message. I really wanted to speak to you in person but … things aren’t too good here. I’ve got myself into something and it’s way above my head. I don’t like it. I have a bad feeling about it all. I need to come home. I’m going to leave this place. Leave Harry and come home. I’m not sure when, but it will be soon, just as soon as I’ve worked a few things out. Got to go. Speak soon.’

‘And you’ve no idea what this thing is that she said she’d got into?’

‘I assumed it was her marriage.’

‘Her marriage? I’m not sure that fits with what she’s saying.’

‘She shouldn’t have married into that family. They are way above her pay scale. All that money and property,’ said Sonia with a degree of disdain. ‘I’m just a working-class single mother. Elizabeth was born in a council flat. We never had much money and I worked two jobs to provide for us. I was and still am proud of my background but Elizabeth, she was ashamed of her roots.’ Sonia took a sip of her coffee. ‘She was ambitious, she wanted to better herself, make a name for herself, and I did everything I could to ensure she lived her dream. Only now, I wish I hadn’t.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious,’ said Steph, gently.

‘If she’d never met that Harry Sinclair, then she’d still be alive today. I’m sure of that. I blame myself for telling her she could be anything she wanted to be.’ Sonia looked down at her hands. ‘I gave her permission to be ambitious. I empowered her but never did I think it would end in such a bad way. I sometimes think I should have encouraged her to be content with what she had.’

Steph paused for a few moments to allow Sonia to regain her composure. Personally, she thought empowerment and ambition were good things but it wasn’t the appropriate time to challenge Sonia on this. She still had the phone in her hand. ‘Did you let the police listen to this voicemail?’

‘They weren’t interested at all. Said it was just Elizabeth moaning about her husband and it neither proved nor disproved anything. You know, Harry Sinclair has stopped returning my calls. He stopped about six months after Elizabeth’s death. He actually blocked my number recently.’

‘You continued to phone him?’

‘Of course! Even when he moved to France. He can’t get away from what happened that easily. I’m not giving up.’

‘May I send a copy of this voicemail to my phone?’ asked Steph.

‘I don’t see why not. I play it sometimes, just to hear her voice.’ Sonia gave a small sniff and as she looked away from Steph two swollen globes of tears dropped onto her lap. She took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry about that. It still gets me.’

Steph reached out and touched her arm. She felt a compassion for this woman who clearly loved her daughter, something Steph could never imagine her own mother displaying. ‘It’s bound to. Take a moment while I sort this voicemail out. Would you like me to get you another coffee?’

‘Thank you, that would be nice.’

It was certainly a strange message, but Steph wasn’t sure it was referring to Elizabeth’s marriage. However, she couldn’t deny her interest was piqued even further, but before she committed herself to anything she needed to ask Sonia some more questions. Returning to the table, she slid another cup of coffee towards her.

‘What was Elizabeth’s relationship with her husband like?’

Sonia let out a sigh. ‘On the face of it, they appeared happy, and they definitely were when they first got married, but once they were living up there at the Sinclair place things started to go wrong. I could tell from the way she spoke – she stopped telling me how wonderful Harry was and started complaining about him.’

‘In what way?’

‘Oh, just the usual. Working too hard. Never having time for her. They used to do quite a lot of things – holidays, weekends away, visiting friends – but that all fizzled out. I think Elizabeth was bored, to be honest. She had nothing to do and playing housewife all day really wasn’t her thing. You know, she was very clever. She had a good business brain and I think she hoped it would be put to use up there, but it wasn’t. All they did was give her a PR role, which basically meant updating the website and posting on social media.’

‘It doesn’t sound bad enough that someone would want to murder her though,’ said Steph. ‘I can’t help thinking there must be more. What exactly did she mean when she said she’d got herself into something?’ It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but Sonia answered anyway.

‘Like I said, the marriage. She’d got herself married and was in too deep just to walk away. I suppose she wasn’t able to support herself financially. She was scared of not having a future.’

Steph remained unconvinced. She placed the phone on the table. ‘Do you think there could possibly be anything else she was scared of?’

‘No. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe there was, but I have no idea what it could possibly be. Believe me, I’ve played out every single scenario in my mind and I keep coming back to that wretched family.’

‘I don’t mean to sound harsh, but for you just to think something isn’t enough. That’s probably why the police came to the conclusion they did.’ Now wasn’t the time to mention her mother had been the investigating officer, Steph decided. She’d only mention it if it became an issue if she decided to take this job on. And at the moment, that was a big if.

‘You see, I believe Elizabeth wanted a divorce and Harry was refusing to agree to one. Probably didn’t want to lose any money in a divorce settlement, unlike his brother, who had to pay his ex-wife a fortune.’

‘I know, but murder her? That’s a bit extreme.’ She saw the disappointment in Sonia’s eyes.

Sonia picked up the phone Steph had left on the table. She scrolled through and passed the phone back to Steph. ‘Listen to the next voicemail and you tell me you need more evidence.’ She sat back in the chair, her arms folded across her chest.

Steph put the mobile to her ear and listened. It was Elizabeth again; her words were almost a whisper and there was a slight slur to them. ‘It’s me. Your daughter. The one stranded in the fucking middle of nowhere. Not for much longer. I tell you, Mum, I’ve had enough of this lot. I’m totally fed up with Harry. God knows why I ever married him in the first place. Anyway, the shit is going to hit the fan now. I’m going to tell the sorry lot of them about the affair. I can’t wait to see the look on their faces. And then, I’m coming home.’

The message ended abruptly. Steph looked at Sonia. ‘Had she been drinking?’

‘Possibly. Probably, but it doesn’t matter. She wasn’t that drunk and she said she was going to tell the others about the affair. She sent me that message the night before she died.’

‘Why did Elizabeth leave voicemails? Why didn’t she speak to you herself?’

‘I was a care worker. I worked unsociable hours. Both times she left a message I was on a call-out. I can’t always answer my phone when I’m working.’

‘And she never discussed this with you in person?’

‘No. This all happened in the week leading up to her death. Like I said, every time I tried to call back to speak to her, she was busy.’

‘What about friends? Who were they? Is there anyone there who could back up your suspicions? Someone she would have confided in?’

Sonia gave a small shake of her head. ‘She didn’t really have any friends there. That was half the trouble. She was so bored. She had her sister-in-law, Natalie – she was married to the youngest of the brothers. But outside the family … no, I can’t remember her talking about anyone in particular. Well, I say that … there was someone she mentioned, someone called Camilla. I remember that because at the time I laughed and said what a posh name that was.’

‘Has anyone spoken to Camilla? Do you have a surname?’

‘I assume she was spoken to by the police – they did say they were speaking to everyone who knew her. I’m afraid I don’t know her surname. She was a relatively new friend.’

Steph beat down a sigh. There wasn’t much to go on at all. She passed the phone back to Sonia. ‘And you’ve shown this to the police?’

‘Yes, of course I did.’

‘And what did they say?’

‘That they’d look into it. I waited for nearly a week before I had to chase them. They said there was nothing to suggest anyone was having an affair, least of all Harry. They said that Elizabeth was clearly drunk and was probably referring to business matters. Harry seemed to think she was going to tell the rest of the family about him wanting to leave the business. She knew that would cause trouble. Elizabeth sent me an email telling me to ignore her voicemail. The police said it was proof Elizabeth hadn’t been serious.’

Steph’s throat felt dry and she took a swig of the remains of her coffee. ‘Do you know the name of the officer that dealt with this?’ She sat a little straighter and her body tensed as she waited for her mother’s name to be mentioned.

‘Won’t ever forget it. Right snotty cow, she was. She headed up the investigation into Elizabeth’s death. If you can call it an investigation. Took all of two days and that was that – they declared it an accident. DCI Wendy Lynch.’

Steph studied Sonia Lomas for any sign that she knew the connection. There seemed to be none, but was Sonia just good at acting? ‘Why have you asked me to look into this? Why not someone else?’

‘I would have thought that was obvious. You tweeted about Conmere. You’re a journalist. You’re going to be there on the inside, so to speak; you can ask questions the police didn’t, find things out they couldn’t. People are more likely to talk about it to someone other than a police officer. And now that a couple of years have gone by, people won’t be so on their guard.’

Steph wondered whether it was because of her connection to her mother, but if it was, Sonia didn’t let on. Steph wasn’t sure if maybe Sonia did know and this was the real reason why she had chosen her. Tentatively, she tested the water. ‘I’m sure the police have investigated this—’

Sonia cut her off. ‘They didn’t do their job properly. They didn’t want to upset the influential Sinclair family. The whole of the Cumbrian police force is crooked.’

Steph swallowed. She found it hard to believe that her mother could be crooked; it just wasn’t her style. Wendy had been dedicated to her job and had put it above all else, including her own family. However, Steph acknowledged the sweeping nature of Sonia’s comment and she may well have a point, no matter how paranoid it was making her sound. ‘That’s quite an accusation,’ she said, calmly.

Sonia gave a her a defiant yeah, I know look but didn’t pass further comment on the issue, instead changing tack. ‘There’s one more thing,’ she said. ‘The email Elizabeth sent me, the one telling me not to worry … I don’t believe it was from her. I think someone else sent that to stop me from worrying.’

A few taps on the screen and Sonia was pushing the phone back to Steph for her to read the email in question.

Hello Mum

Please don’t worry about me. Everything is fine. I was just feeling a bit fed up and had a little too much wine when I phoned you. Just ignore me.

Love

Elizabeth

‘What’s the significance?’ asked Steph, rereading the message.

‘Because she signed her name Elizabeth. She never used her full name on emails or birthday cards to me. She always just put E.’

‘And you think someone sent this, pretending to be her?’

‘Yes. I think someone heard her on the phone to me, leaving me that voicemail. Whoever sent me that email is responsible for her death. They didn’t want the truth getting out.’

‘And you think that’s Harry Sinclair?’

‘Look, I’m not fooled by him. He comes across as the quiet one, the nice guy, the brother everyone loves, but you tell me, what other reason did he have to scoot off to France no sooner than Elizabeth was dead and set up some sort of design business over there?’ Sonia frowned and sighed. ‘Are you going to look into my daughter’s death or not?’

‘I’m not sure what I’ll be able to find out,’ began Steph, but then stopped herself. There was something about Sonia’s undeniable love for her daughter that resonated with Steph. Something that Steph felt was so lacking in her relationship with her own mum. An unbidden wish that Sonia was her mother took Steph by surprise. She brushed it away, feeling disloyal to Wendy, and yet at the same time a sense of deep disappointment settled inside her. What did Sonia and Elizabeth have as a mother and daughter that she and Wendy lacked? Or was it a case of not what they lacked but who lacked what? Steph couldn’t help feeling intrigued by Elizabeth – what was it about this woman that engendered this fierce belief and devotion from her mother? Steph couldn’t imagine igniting such a reaction in Wendy and, if she was honest, it made her a tiny bit jealous.