Parnell tackles a tricky observation. ‘So, er, you didn’t end up starting a family?’
There’s a silence for a few seconds while Thomas Lapaine pushes his sleeves up and leans forward. Legs spread wide, forearms on thighs. It’s a staunchly masculine pose that tells me everything before he even says it. ‘We tried for a few years but it didn’t happen. We had all sorts of tests and then we started IVF. Several rounds of IVF. It was tough. We’d actually just decided to give—’ He stops suddenly, pulled up sharp by a memory he’s not sure whether to share.
I keep my voice gentle. ‘Tom?’
He stares at me, slightly baffled. ‘Well, it’s just, I’m so sorry – I’ve been telling you how she never went to London but – how could I have forgotten – we did go to London, once, a few months ago. But it really was the only time. It was to see another consultant, someone who’d been recommended to my mother. The price was sky-high, about ￡15,000 per go plus extra for blood tests and all the other indignities you have to go through, but he claimed to have a sixty-five per cent success rate. Alice found that hard to resist, even if it meant going into London.’
I nod, not sure what this tells us. ‘You must have been excited?’
That brittle laugh again. ‘I was. But shortly afterwards Alice said she wanted to give up, just like that. She said she’d come to the conclusion that it wasn’t meant to be.’ He scratches at his wrist, frowning. ‘She seemed quite philosophical about it really.’
‘When was this?’ says Parnell
He thinks for a minute. ‘We saw the consultant around the end of October. I’m sure you’ll find the exact date when your colleagues rifle through my wife’s things.’
‘What exact date did Alice leave?’ I ask.
‘Thursday 19th November. I came home from work and she was gone. She’d left me a note. A note and some home-cooked meals in the freezer.’
‘Do you have the note?’
A deep slug of scotch. ‘No.’
Parnell resists the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Can you tell us what it said then?’
‘Just that she needed some time alone and that she’d call soon.’ His voice wavers. ‘And that she loved me, very deeply.’
And that she was heading into space with Elvis on a solar-powered unicorn. That’s how much credence we can give this note.
I throw him a bone just to see how eagerly he takes it. ‘Do you think she needed time away to come to terms with the IVF decision?’
‘Perhaps,’ he says, sadly. ‘I honestly don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Had you come to terms with the decision, Tom?’ Parnell, fierce-proud father of four and unashamedly gooey when it comes to all thing babies, softens his voice a little, surprising both Lapaine and me.
‘I was disappointed, I can’t deny it.’
‘Did you row about it?’ I ask, before Parnell does.
‘We didn’t row.’
‘Oh, come on, Tom,’ Parnell cajoles. ‘Everyone rows.’
He gets up, tosses the now-empty bottle of scotch in the bin. ‘I’m aware of that, Sergeant. I’m not averse to a row myself with business associates, or my parents from time to time. But Alice wasn’t like that. You couldn’t row with her. She was too sweet a creature.’
The martyrdom of the dead is the bane of a Murder detective’s life. It’s hard to pinpoint the truth when people are too busy polishing the halo.
‘OK,’ says Parnell evenly, ‘you didn’t row, but you must have enquired about the sudden change of heart?’
He sits down. Hurt flashes across his face, still raw. ‘She said it was the money. Basically, where would it end? We’d been through so many rounds already and in the cold light of day, she felt even a sixty-five per cent success rate seemed too big a risk for such a large amount. We’re not exactly churchmice, Detectives, but look around, we’re not rolling in cash either. We’d had to make sacrifices to fund the IVF. We’d spent savings, taken out loans, borrowed from my parents.’
‘How much?’ asks Parnell. ‘In total?’
He puffs out his cheeks. ‘Around ￡50,000, I’d say. Still, I told Alice it didn’t matter, it was only money, but she’d made her mind up. She said we’d forced it enough and the disappointment was killing us. I had no choice but to accept it. Even though she was so sweet-natured, when she dug her heels in about something you had to let her be. Same with our anniversary trip to London .?.?.’
‘That was about wasting money too? Well, partly,’ I add, before he corrects me. ‘Did you and Alice have differing views about your finances?’
‘Not especially.’
I check my notes. ‘You told my colleague this morning that Alice worked for a few hours each day at a pub in the village.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why only a few hours?’
He shrugs but there’s a wariness in his eyes. ‘That’s all they could offer, I believe.’
‘OK, but there must have been other jobs Alice could have done?’
‘I’m not following, Detective.’ I’m not sure Parnell is either.
‘Well, it’s just that if Alice was conscious about money, and if money was tight, I don’t understand why a fit, able woman wouldn’t find a more lucrative job.’ Lapaine stays silent, uncomfortable with the line of questioning if his pursed lips are anything to go by. ‘Hey, look, it’s not a judgment, Tom. I’m just trying to understand as much as I can about Alice – her values, her .?.?.’
‘I was against her working full-time, OK.’ So it’s not just the house that’s stuck in a time-warp. ‘And yes I know how that sounds, but you have to understand that working full-time in hospitality means regular evening work, weekend work, and I didn’t want that for our marriage. Alice agreed.’
Controlling, or kind of understandable? Is wanting to be at home at the same time as your partner really so primitive or simply pragmatic? Necessary for the health of any long-term relationship?
I decide that I can’t decide. Murder skews your view of how the normal world operates.
Parnell picks up the baton. ‘We’ll obviously be looking at your wife’s bank records – any activity helps us to build up an idea of her movements. Did Alice have her own account or is it a joint one?’
‘Joint. Her salary wasn’t much but it covered a couple of monthly loan payments. She did have her own credit card, although she hardly used it, the limit was only a few hundred pounds.’ He looks to me, the perceived softer option. ‘Our joint account won’t tell you much though so I wouldn’t waste your time. She mainly withdrew cash from the ATM. She always preferred cash.’
I smile apologetically. ‘All the same, we’ll need to take a look.’
His answer isn’t quite instant. ‘If you must.’
Parnell keeps his tone steady. ‘How did you feel about her withdrawing the money?’
Lapaine shrugs. ‘I didn’t expect her to live on thin air.’
Parnell nods. ‘Well, no, but she says IVF is a waste of money and then weeks later she’s swanning around taking money out of your joint account, I think I’d be annoyed.’
A blanket of near-silence. Just the sound of the river rushing outside.
‘I did not kill my wife, Sergeant.’
Fair play. It’s exactly what I’d do. Expose the elephant in the room and you control it.
Parnell doesn’t flinch but the admission switches him back into formal mode – no more ‘Tom’ for a start. ‘I’m afraid we have to ask these questions, Mr Lapaine, and while I regret any discomfort this causes, it’s crucial we eliminate you as quickly as possible. Do you understand?’
Lapaine says nothing. Parnell carries on. ‘You’ll also understand that I need to ask where you were last night and the early hours of this morning.’
He stares at Parnell, dead-eyed – tiredness or loathing, I’m not sure. ‘I was home. From seven thirty p.m. until I left for my walk at about eightish this morning.’
‘Ah yes, your walk. You’re committed, I’ll give you that. Pains me to walk to the car when it’s this cold.’
‘It’s not a labour of love, I assure you. I hurt my back earlier in the year and walking and swimming are the only ways I can keep active, and I find swimming so monotonous. The back and forth repetition of it.’