The Wrong Mother Read online

  ‘Those wooden crates…’

  ‘They were empty.’

  ‘Do you reckon they’re for the silver barrel-things to go in? You know, to be delivered?’

  ‘Maybe. Why?’

  ‘There’s seven of them, but only six barrels.’

  Sellers and Gibbs stared at one another.

  ‘What did I trip over? What fucked up my leg?’

  ‘Looked like the lid of my cocktail shaker at home, but bigger.’

  ‘A lid?’

  Gibbs hobbled after Sellers as he ran towards it. Sellers pointed to the far wall. ‘Look at those monsters. The only opening’s at the top. They’d need a way of lowering them, wouldn’t they, to insert whatever needs to go inside-the plastic tube, or whatever? The hole this thing’s in must have some kind of platform underneath it, so they can raise and lower the vats. Give us a hand, I can’t get this to budge.’ He was trying to loosen the round metal cap that had felled Gibbs.

  Together the two detectives tried to twist it. Nothing. ‘Try the other way,’ said Gibbs. ‘Look, it’s…’

  They pushed in the opposite direction and the lid came loose. It was heavy; it took both of them to lift it. Both hoped they would find the seventh silver cylinder empty.

  They saw dark hair, and blood, and heard breathing. Breathing. Bretherick was alive.

  ‘Mark? Mark, it’s DC Colin Sellers. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. We’ll have you out of here in no time. Mark, can you speak? Can you look up?’

  The hair moved. Sellers saw a patch of forehead, streaked with blood. Gibbs had gone outside to phone for help.

  ‘That’s good. Talk to me, Mark. Stay awake and talk to me. Say anything.’

  Bretherick’s voice was a scratchy whisper. ‘Leave me,’ he said, and then something that sounded like ‘peace’. Sellers heard a choking sound, and saw the head beneath him drop down.

  22

  8/12/07

  ‘You helped us.’ Simon faced Jonathan Hey across the table. ‘Everything you told me-that Geraldine didn’t kill herself and Lucy, that the same person who killed Geraldine and Lucy killed Encarna and Amy-why did you tell me all that?’

  ‘I hate it when things are wrong,’ said Hey. ‘I can’t stand for anything… not to be right. I wanted to be helpful.’ He wouldn’t meet Simon’s eyes, or Charlie’s. Yesterday he had been hysterical. Today his face was blank.

  ‘You mean you wanted us to find out the truth?’

  ‘No. Not that.’ A pause. ‘I was the person who knew everything you wanted and needed to know. You needed me. So I told you a small part of what I knew. And then I panicked, that I’d told you too much and you’d realise. So I tried to mislead you… and made things worse, all wrong again.’ Hey shook his head. ‘I liked you, Simon. If it counts for anything, I still do.’

  ‘You don’t know me.’ Nobody does-nobody ever has-so what makes you so special? ‘When we found Encarna and Amy, you must have known it was only a matter of time. But you still lied, as if you believed you might get away with it-Harry Martineau, Angel Oliva. And when I told you we needed you here at the nick-’

  ‘You laid a trap for me,’ said Hey. ‘You could have arrested me without the pantomime if you’d wanted. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be so indirect about it.’ His mouth wobbled. ‘You think I’ve let you down. I’m sorry. I truly wanted to help, Simon. I never wanted to be your bad guy.’

  Charlie cleared her throat. It broke the tension in the air.

  Simon felt freer to speak. ‘You can still help,’ he told Hey. ‘Why did you kill them-Encarna and Amy, Geraldine and Lucy?’

  Silence. As if the question had not been asked.

  ‘All right, how about starting with some smaller points,’ Simon suggested. ‘Did you follow Sally Thorning to Seddon Hall last year?’

  Hey nodded. ‘After what happened… to my wife and daughter, I was in a state. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t work, couldn’t think. I ended up at the train station.’

  ‘After killing Encarna and Amy and burying their bodies in the garden at Corn Mill House, you were in a state,’ said Simon. ‘So you went to the train station. Were you planning to leave the country? Leave your job in Cambridge and start from scratch?’

  ‘I only got my chair at Cambridge in January of this year. Before that I taught at Rawndesley.’

  ‘At the university?’

  ‘I suppose so. Now that I’ve experienced Cambridge, I think it’s stretching it a bit to call Rawndesley a university, but… yes, that’s where I taught.’ He paused, seeming to think through what he was about to say. ‘I don’t know why I went to the station. I had no plan. I saw Sally there…’ He flinched. ‘I’ve messed things up with Sally.’

  ‘You noticed Sally immediately, because she looked like Geraldine,’ said Simon. ‘And you liked Geraldine.’

  ‘We liked each other. Nothing happened between us. Nothing ever would have, even after… even when I was on my own and lonely and maybe a bit… careless about breaking up other people’s families.’

  An understatement if ever Simon had heard one.

  Hey seemed unaware of what he’d said. He also seemed content to talk, as long as nobody brought up the four murders he’d committed. ‘Geraldine would never have left Mark or had an affair. I once said to her, “Mark would never need to know.” She said, “I’d know.” She’d have hated herself.’

  Charlie leaned forward in her chair. ‘But you knew she had feelings for you. If circumstances had been different…’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hey without hesitation. ‘If circumstances had been different, Geraldine would have married me.’

  Simon was unconvinced. Hey might have mistaken a diplomatic knock-back for a fated but forbidden love.

  ‘So Sally Thorning was just a fling at first,’ said Charlie. ‘She looked like Geraldine, but she wasn’t the real thing. You still hoped Geraldine would see sense and leave Mark for you.’

  ‘Don’t belittle Sally.’ Hey sounded injured. ‘She saved my sanity. I thought… seeing her at the station like that, it was as if someone or something was trying to tell me everything would be okay. Sally was wearing a T-shirt from Silsford Castle’s owl sanctuary. I’d been there with Geraldine, on the school trip…’ A sharp look came into his eyes. ‘Sally was the one. Not Geraldine. I realised too late. Geraldine was too perfect, too good. I had to hide so many things from her. All the time I wasted pursuing her when it should have been Sally. Sally’s like me. I could be my real self with her.’

  Simon was itching to bring up the four murders again. He restrained himself. This way was better; at least Hey was talking.

  ‘You followed Sally to Seddon Hall,’ said Charlie. ‘Booked a room, introduced yourself-’

  ‘And spent the week with her. Yes. You know all this.’

  ‘Spent the week having sex with her?’

  ‘Among other things, yes.’

  Simon and Charlie exchanged a look. Sally Thorning had told them repeatedly that she and Hey had talked in the hotel bar a few times, nothing more. If anyone asked Simon, he’d tell them he believed her. She was sane, Hey wasn’t. It was her word against his.

  ‘Sally was easy to get into bed,’ said Hey. ‘Geraldine… I had no chance with her. That’s what distracted me, made me believe Geraldine was the one I ought to fight for, when all the time Sally was there, available. But I’d had her already, you see. And, like an ignorant Neanderthal, I undervalued her because of it. Until Geraldine was gone.’

  ‘Jonathan, I want to ask you about the photographs,’ said Simon. ‘At Corn Mill House there were framed photographs of Lucy and Geraldine taken at the owl sanctuary. Inside the frames were photos of Encarna and Amy taken in the same spot. Can you tell us anything about that?’

  Hey looked curious. Mildly. ‘You found them at Corn Mill House? They weren’t there when…’

  When you drugged Geraldine and Lucy and killed them. ‘No, they were at Mark Bretherick’s office when Gerald
ine and Lucy were murdered.’

  Hey closed his eyes. ‘I looked all over the house for those pictures.’

  ‘Tell us,’ said Charlie.

  ‘It was one of those stupid embarrassing things. They happen to me often. I persuaded Encarna we ought to go on the owl sanctuary trip. Parents were invited too. We were always so busy. I thought it would be nice to take a day off work, to be with Amy for once.’ He shook his head. ‘Encarna kept threatening to demand a day’s school fees back, because she and I were looking after Amy on a day when we’d paid the school to do it. The trip was a disaster.’

  ‘The pictures?’ Charlie reminded him.

  ‘Geraldine had forgotten her camera. I’d brought mine. I offered to take photos of her and Lucy.’

  Simon and Charlie waited.

  ‘The owl sanctuary trip was just before… just before Encarna and Amy died. By the time I got round to thinking about developing the pictures, I knew I needed both sets. I needed photographs of my wife and daughter-’ He broke off. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Give me a second.’

  ‘I think I understand,’ said Simon quietly. ‘You also wanted the pictures you’d taken of Geraldine and Lucy. You hoped that, given time, they would become your new family.’

  Hey nodded. ‘I was selfish. I could have made copies for Geraldine, but I didn’t. I didn’t want Mark to have them. At first I put Encarna and Amy in the frames, on a shelf in the lounge. After a while, I couldn’t bear to see them staring at me.’ He shuddered. ‘I couldn’t bear to throw them away either, or to put them in the bathroom with everything else. That would have felt like… stamping out their last glimmer of life. Does that make sense?’

  Simon nodded. No, it didn’t make sense-not in the way he wanted it to. His feeling of unease was growing. Something was wrong with the story that was taking shape, but what? What was it?

  ‘So you put the photographs of Geraldine and Lucy in the frames instead,’ he said.

  ‘Not instead,’ Hey snapped. ‘As well. I never once took Amy’s photograph out of that frame. Or Encarna’s. I loved Geraldine, yes, but not the way I loved my family.’ He began to cry, making no attempt to wipe away his tears. ‘Whatever I’ve done, however wrong it was, I loved them. Like I loved Sally-she was my true family. Or she could have been. Can’t you understand? I just wanted to make things right.’ He looked at Simon. ‘Have you always been the person you are now? I haven’t. I was a different person once.’

  ‘How did the four photos you took at the owl sanctuary end up in Mark Bretherick’s office?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘An unforeseen disaster,’ said Hey. ‘Geraldine popped round one day unexpectedly. She never did that. I was rarely in, anyway. After I lost Encarna and Amy I spent most of my time at the university. She came round because she’d not heard from me for a while, she was worried about me. I’d told her Encarna had left me, taken Amy to Spain. When I got back from Seddon Hall, I went to see her. Sorry, I’m telling this in the wrong order.’ Hey stopped to take a deep breath.

  ‘You lied to make her feel sorry for you.’

  ‘I felt sorry for myself,’ Hey conceded. ‘I was completely alone. Do you know how horrible that is? No loving family around you? No one to ask you how your day’s been, no one to make you feel you really exist?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘When Geraldine turned up on my doorstep, I thought… I was thrilled to see her. I completely forgot about the photos. I realised almost straight away, but by then she’d walked into the lounge. The pictures of her and Lucy were up on the shelf-if she’d looked to her right she’d have seen them. What would I have said?’

  ‘What did you do?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I told her to close her eyes, said I had a surprise for her. I grabbed the photos off the shelf and gave them to her, told her I’d had them framed as a present for her and Mark. I made sure to say Mark too, so she wouldn’t think it was… anything untoward.’

  ‘And she took them home,’ said Simon. ‘Unknowingly taking the photos of Encarna and Amy as well. Weren’t you scared she or Mark would open the frames and find them?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Hey’s voice shook. He blinked away tears, tutted. ‘I started to go round more often, pretending I was just dropping in for a chat. I wanted those pictures back-I needed them-but I couldn’t find them anywhere at Geraldine’s. Now I know why: they were in Mark’s office.’ He clenched his hands into fists. ‘I felt as if I’d betrayed my family. I’d sworn to myself that even though I couldn’t bear to look at the photographs, I would always keep them there, in their frames, on the shelf. But I hadn’t even managed to do that.’

  In their frames on the shelf, behind pictures of another woman and child-their replacements. Hey’s derangement had its own inner logic that put him beyond Simon’s reach.

  ‘You say you loved Encarna and Amy, and Geraldine-’ said Charlie.

  ‘And Sally,’ Hey insisted. ‘It just took me a while to realise I’d been searching for something I’d already found.’

  ‘What about Lucy?’

  ‘Lucy?’ Hey’s eyes clouded over. He looked annoyed, as if something irrelevant and inconvenient had been placed in his path. ‘Geraldine loved her. She was Geraldine’s daughter.’

  ‘We know that,’ said Charlie gently. ‘How did you feel about Lucy?’

  Hey glared at her.

  Simon wanted to lean across the table and grab him, shake the truth out of him. A look from Charlie warned him not to. ‘We don’t have to talk about Lucy if you don’t want to,’ she said. ‘Would you rather tell us about Encarna’s diary? Geraldine’s translation?’

  Hey looked at Simon. ‘I only found the diary after Encarna… once she was gone. She knew I didn’t speak Spanish. That’s why she wrote it in Spanish. I had to know what was in it, in case… Encarna wasn’t like Geraldine. She was capable of anything.’

  ‘She was dead,’ Simon reminded him.

  ‘I had a right to know.’ Hey’s tone was defensive.

  ‘So you asked Geraldine to translate the diary?’

  Hey nodded.

  ‘Did you pay her?’

  ‘Of course not. She did it as a favour to me.’

  Charlie and Simon waited.

  ‘Geraldine knew how much I loved Amy. She was always saying what a great dad I was. I’d never have let Encarna steal Amy, take her to Spain where I’d never see her. I told Geraldine I was going for custody. I was sure Encarna’s diary was one long rant about how much she hated being a mother.’ He shrugged. ‘You can guess the rest. I’m not proud of having lied.’

  ‘You told Geraldine her translation of the diary would help you win custody of Amy,’ said Simon, all the more disgusted because of the respect he had once had for Hey.

  ‘It was a terrible mistake.’ Hey’s voice shook. ‘One of many. Geraldine started making excuses not to see me. At first I thought Encarna must have written something in the diary that showed me in a bad light, some lie or distortion-she was good at that. But when I finally persuaded Geraldine to talk to me about it, it turned out not to be that at all. She was thinking of me. Putting others before herself, as she always did.’ His eyes filled with tears again. ‘She asked if I was sure the diary would make a difference in court. She wanted me to talk to my lawyer, check it would be decisive. I told her there was no need, but she kept going on about it.’

  ‘Because she wanted to spare your feelings, and Amy’s,’ Simon deduced aloud. A detail slotted into place: Geraldine Bretherick’s phone call to a firm of solicitors. She’d wanted to consult an expert before letting Hey see the destructive words his wife had written, words she believed might ruin not only her friend’s future but his past too, retrospectively. How she must have regretted agreeing to do the translation.

  Hey used his sleeve to wipe his eyes and nose. ‘All she’d wanted was to help me get Amy back, and she ended up having to… show me that poison, page after page of it.’

  ‘Is that why you killed her?’ asked Charlie matter-of-factly. ‘You couldn�
��t forgive her for showing you the truth?’

  ‘How was it Geraldine’s fault?’ said Hey. ‘I gave her the diary, I asked her to translate it.’ He looked bewildered.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Sally Thorning your real name at Seddon Hall? Why pretend to be Mark Bretherick?’

  ‘I didn’t think about it. I just said it. After what I’d just done, I didn’t want to give my real name. And… I thought about Mark all the time. My wife and daughter were… I’d…’

  ‘You’d buried them in his garden,’ said Charlie.

  ‘He and Geraldine were in Florida. I knew that. Having a lovely, happy time. I wanted to ruin it. I wanted to ruin something of theirs.’

  ‘Were you jealous of Mark?’

  Through his tears, Hey made an impatient noise. ‘People like me are jealous of almost everybody, Sergeant.’

  ‘You must have regretted using Mark’s name,’ said Simon. ‘Once Geraldine and Lucy were dead, and it was all over the news. You must have known Sally Thorning would see Mark on TV. Is that why you tried to kill her by pushing her under a bus?’

  ‘I didn’t push Sally under a bus.’

  ‘You expect us to believe that-’

  ‘I pushed Geraldine.’ A long pause. ‘I’d been in a terrible state for days. They were all dead, all the people I loved. And then I saw… I thought I saw Geraldine in Rawndesley.’

  ‘You’d spent a week with Sally Thorning and you didn’t recognise her?’

  ‘He’d forgotten Sally,’ said Simon, keeping his eyes on Hey. ‘He’d used her and discarded her, hadn’t seen her for over a year. Isn’t that right, Jonathan?’

  Hey let out a loud sob, too distressed to reply.

  ‘Geraldine was the one who knew he’d lost Amy, who felt sorry for him, who was helping him by translating the diary. Geraldine was the one he’d just killed, and so at the forefront of his mind. And suddenly there she was in Rawndesley, alive and well. So he tried to kill her again.’

  ‘I… I panicked. I…’

  ‘Where did you get the GHB?’ asked Charlie.