‘No, for real,’ says Bogdan. ‘We are not children. You’re a police officer. How would you do it? To get away with it?’
Hmm. Is this Bogdan’s downside? He’s a serial murderer? That would be tough to overlook. Not impossible though, given those shoulders.
‘What’s happening here?’ asks Donna. ‘Why are you asking me that?’
‘It’s homework for Elizabeth. She wanted to know my thoughts.’
OK, that makes sense. What a relief. Bogdan is not a homicidal maniac; Elizabeth is. ‘Poison, I suppose,’ says Donna. ‘Something undetectable anyway.’
‘Yes, make it look natural,’ agrees Bogdan. ‘Make it look like not a murder.’
‘Maybe drive a car at them, late at night,’ says Donna. ‘Anything where you don’t have to touch the body, that’s where forensics will get you. Or a gun, nice and simple, one shot, blam, and get out quick, the whole thing away from security cameras. Plan your escape route of course, that’s essential too. No forensics, no witnesses, no body to bury, that’s how I’d do it. Phone off, or leave your phone in a cab, so it’s miles away when you’re committing the murder. Bribe a nurse, maybe get vials of blood from strangers and leave them on the body. Or …’
Bogdan is looking at her. Has she overshared there? Maybe move the conversation on.
‘What’s Elizabeth up to?’
‘She says someone got murdered.’
‘Of course she does,’ says Donna.
‘But murdered in a car, pushed off a cliff. Is not how I’d murder someone.’
‘A car over a cliff? OK, I can see that,’ says Donna. ‘Why is Elizabeth investigating it?’
Bogdan shrugs. ‘Because Joyce wanted to meet someone off the TV, I think. I didn’t really understand.’
Donna nods – that sounds about right. ‘Were there any marks on the body? Like they’d been killed before the car went over the cliff?’
‘No body, just some clothes and some blood. The body was thrown from the car.’
‘That’s convenient for the killer.’ Donna was not used to this type of post-coital talk. Usually you had to hear about someone’s motorbike, or the ex whom they’d just realized they still loved. Or you had to give a reassuring pep-talk. ‘Spectacular though. If the killer wanted to send a message to someone. Difficult to ignore.’
‘I think it’s too complicated,’ says Bogdan, ‘For a murder. A car, a cliff, come on.’
‘And you’re an expert in murder now?’
‘I read a lot,’ says Bogdan.
‘What’s your favourite book ever?’
‘The Velveteen Rabbit,’ says Bogdan. ‘Or Andre Agassi’s autobiography.’
Maybe Bogdan could kill Carl, her ex? She’s fantasized about killing Carl a few times. Could Bogdan push Carl’s stupid Mazda over a cliff? But, even as the thought flashes through her mind, and she stretches like a cat finding a patch of sunshine, she realizes she no longer cares about Carl. Be the bigger person, Donna. Let Carl live.
‘She could have asked me and Chris to help,’ says Donna. ‘We’d have been able to take a look at it. Do you remember the name?’
Bogdan shrugs. ‘Bethany something. But they like to do these things by themselves.’
‘Don’t they just,’ agrees Donna and throws her arm across his endless chest. Rarely has she felt so thrillingly puny. ‘I like talking about murder with you, Bogdan.’
‘I like talking about murder with you too, Donna. Although I don’t think this was murder. Too convenient.’
Donna looks up, one more time, into those eyes. ‘Bogdan, do you promise that’s not the last time we’re ever going to have sex? Because I’d really like to go to sleep now, and then wake up with you and do it again.’
‘I promise,’ says Bogdan, his hand stroking her hair.
This is how you’re supposed to fall asleep, thinks Donna. How has she not known about this before? Safe and happy and sated. And murders and Elizabeth, and tattoos, and being different and being the same, and cars and cliffs and clothes, and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
5
Joyce
I will admit that the murder of Bethany Waites was my idea.
We were all looking through the files for a new Thursday Murder Club case. There was a spinster in Rye in the early eighties, for example, who had died, leaving three unidentified skeletons and a suitcase containing fifty thousand pounds in her cellar. That was Elizabeth’s favourite and, I agree, it would have been quite jolly, but, as soon as I saw the name ‘Bethany Waites’ on another file, my mind was made up. I don’t put my foot down often, but, when I do, it stays down. Elizabeth sulked, but the others knew not to argue. I’m not just here for tea and biscuits you know.
I remembered Bethany Waites, of course, and I had read a piece Mike Waghorn had written in the Kent Messenger about her murder, so I thought to myself, hello, Joyce, this looks suspicious, and you might get to meet Mike Waghorn.
Is that so wrong?
I have been watching Mike Waghorn on South East Tonight for as long as I can remember. If anyone gets murdered or opens a fête anywhere in the South East, Mike will be there, with that big smile on his face. Actually, he doesn’t smile for the murders. Then he does a serious face, which he is also very good at. I actually prefer his serious face, so if there has been a murder, at least that’s a silver lining. He looks a little bit like if Michael Bublé were more my age.
Mike has done South East Tonight for thirty-five years now, but every five years or so they get a new woman to host it with him. Which is where Bethany Waites came in.
Bethany Waites was blonde and Northern and she died in a car that drove over Shakespeare Cliff, near Dover. (It’s just off the A20, I looked it up, because I suspect we’ll be going there at some point.) This must have been almost ten years ago. You would have thought it was just a suicide, cliffs and cars and what have you, but there were all sorts of other things. Someone had been seen in the car with her just beforehand, there were ambiguous messages on her phone, the waters were muddied. So the police called it murder and, looking through their files, we were inclined to agree.
It was very big news around here at the time. Not an awful lot happens in Kent, so you can imagine. They had a special tribute show and I remember Mike crying, and Fiona Clemence having to put an arm around him on air. Fiona was the new co-host by then.
Fiona Clemence is so famous now, lots of people don’t realize she started on South East Tonight. I asked Mike if he watches her quiz Stop the Clock, but he said he doesn’t. Which must make him the only one in the country who doesn’t. Pauline – she’s the make-up artist, and we will get back to her – said he’s just jealous, but Mike said he doesn’t watch TV.
I will be honest with you. I’d hoped that this evening I would flirt with Mike, and he would tell me how much he liked my necklace, and I would blush and giggle, and Elizabeth would roll her eyes.
But nothing doing, I’m afraid.
‘All wag, no horn,’ was how Ron put it. Mike gave me a peck on the cheek, and at one point he brushed my hand and there was electricity, but I think that was the combination of the deep carpet outside the restaurant and my new cardigan.
He interviewed Ron this afternoon: they’re doing a piece about retirement living on South East Today. This was all Elizabeth’s suggestion; she made me email one of the producers. If you want to lure someone, go to Elizabeth.
I have to admit Ron was actually rather good. He knows when to turn it on. He talked about loneliness and friendship and security, and I was very proud of him for being so open. You can see that Ibrahim rubs off on him. At one point he got distracted and started talking about West Ham, but Mike steered him back on course.
What we really wanted out of this whole plan, though, was information about Bethany Waites, and Mike was certainly happy to chat. He was three sheets to the wind, and he told us a lot of things we already knew from the files, but he was fired up.