‘I tried to hold him up, and then the police arrived and got me to go outside. I had Milo in my arms. So, no. Of course I didn’t take anything away! Why would I? Oh my God, are you accusing me of stealing something from the house?’
‘No, no, no, definitely not.’ A long breath. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been very clumsy about this. Absolutely not. It’s just that there’s a strange anomaly we’re trying to clear up. Mr Montgomery used blue nylon twine to um, to –’
‘Hang himself,’ Lulu snapped.
‘Yes. Uh. Yes. Well, some very small pieces of the blue nylon material – we’re talking under a millimetre in size – were found on the kitchen floor, presumably falling there when the twine was cut. But no ball of twine, or any other lengths of it, were present anywhere in the property. It’s possible that Mr Montgomery cut the twine to size earlier and disposed of the twine he wasn’t going to use somewhere outside the property, but it doesn’t seem likely. It’s, uh . . . well, it’s literally a loose end.’
‘Does it matter when Paul cut the twine and what he did with the rest of it? I mean, really?’ She rolled her eyes at Nick, who was staring at her fixedly, the pungent egg sandwich in its greaseproof paper untouched on his lap. ‘I’ve got rather more important things to worry about here. My husband’s aunt is missing and we’re helping with the search. I have to go.’
She ended the call and puffed out a breath. ‘Unbelievable.’
She told Nick what the policeman had said.
Nick heard her out without speaking. Then he said, slowly and clearly, as if to a child, ‘Why would the police ask you if you’d taken anything from Paul’s house?’
‘Well, because I was in shock, I suppose, and might have shoved the twine into my pocket without thinking.’
‘But he wasn’t just asking about the twine, was he? Did you take anything. It’s the sort of question he might ask someone’s partner, someone who was familiar with the house, not someone who’d only been there once.’
‘He was just asking about the twine.’
‘No,’ he said patiently. ‘You said he said “anything”.’
‘Meaning the twine. Obviously.’
‘Oh. It’s obvious, is it, and I’m too thick to get it?’
Lulu shook her head in confusion.
‘Had you been to Paul’s house before?’
‘What? No! What exactly are you accusing me of?’ She felt suddenly shaky and weird, as if the world had tipped on its axis.
‘You and Paul were very friendly, weren’t you? Hugging and kissing.’
‘Nick, don’t be ridiculous! We never kissed! Oh my God! You can’t seriously be thinking there was anything going on between me and Paul?’
She recoiled as he suddenly thrust his face into hers. ‘You tell me, Lulu.’
And then he was gone, out of the car, striding off to rejoin the search, walking straight past Andy – who was standing gaping at him – without acknowledging the giant of a man or even seeming to see him.
Lulu moved on autopilot through the forest with the others, Nick’s implicit accusation going round and round her head. He was just two people down the line from her, but whenever she looked over at him, he studiously ignored her.
She told herself that it was enough to make anyone lose it, lash out at the person closest to them – yet another member of his family disappearing. What must that be doing to him?
When they’d finished searching the area they’d been assigned and were walking back along the track, Nick walking ahead of Lulu with Carol Jardine, a quiet voice said, ‘Lulu?’
Andy was at her side. He didn’t return her smile.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he said in a rapid whisper.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Not here. Not now. Can you meet me, tomorrow morning? It’s important.’
‘Well, I –’
‘You can’t tell Nick. Mum said you told her he works early in the morning, yes? From seven till nine? You could meet me at, say, seven-thirty? But it can’t be in public. There’s an abandoned little farmhouse about quarter of a mile west of Sunnyside, up a track on the right. I’ll meet you there. And don’t tell Nick. You mustn’t tell him, okay? Or anyone?’
And before she could respond, he had run off ahead of everyone down the track, arms hanging, rather ape-like, by his sides.
Lulu sighed inwardly. Presumably Carol had told Andy that she was a therapist, and he had issues he wanted to talk through. Searching for Yvonne was inevitably going to be tough on everyone who knew her, not just Nick. Anyone with an underlying vulnerability, such as she sensed in Andy, was going to be particularly at risk of a negative impact. She could meet him tomorrow, she guessed, and let him talk.
Back in the car park, as she and Nick were changing out of their walking boots in a tense silence, one of the police officers, a small, neat woman with her hair in a bun, approached them. ‘Mr and Mrs Clyde? I’m PC Melissa Jackson. I wonder if it would be possible for myself and a colleague to speak to you about Ms Moncrieff? Can we meet you, back at your property?’
16
Maggie - October 1997
‘But why did he do it?’ went Duncan.
Maggie and Duncan were sitting side by side on the bed, Isla safe in her cot next to them.
‘I’ve told you,’ she said, making her voice gentle. ‘He hates Isla. He hates the fact that she’s taking your attention away from him.’
‘But that’s not a reason to try to kill her!’
It was half an hour since Nick had been carted off. Duncan himself had called the police, and he and Maggie had both made statements, and Nick had been arrested for attempted murder and taken to Langholm police station for questioning. Maggie had also told the cops that she suspected Nick may have killed Dean Reid, and they should look again at his alibi. The cops had asked whether Duncan or Maggie wanted to accompany Nick, as he had the right to have an appropriate adult present when questioned.
‘No!’ Maggie had snapped. ‘How is it appropriate for a parent of the baby he just tried to murder to sit in his corner?’
Duncan had just shaken his head.
She didn’t know how Duncan had got through it.