Her Sister’s Secret

My jaw uncomfortably clenched. “Nate, tell me what the fuck is going on.” The silence that ensued could penetrate reinforced steel. Time to brandish a diamond-cutter. “That man you thought Scarlet was having an affair with, Charlie Binns?”

“What of the bastard?”

“He was a pensioner.”

“So is Mick Jagger.”

“Binns was murdered.”

I could almost feel Nate’s brain revolve through 180 degrees. “What, in God’s name, are you suggesting? You surely don’t think —”

“Are you playing away, Nate?”

“Molly, I —”

“What made her so miserable?” I want to know what you did to her, what drove her to do what she did and get mixed up in all kinds of mess. No way did I believe my brother-in-law had associations with a contract killer, but he obviously wasn’t the innocent he portrayed himself to be.

“Bloody hell, Molly.”

“You know I won’t give up.”

Another silence. I could practically hear Nate weighing up the odds. “It’s difficult.” I’ll bet.

I sat still, feeling a bit sick, thinking and unthinking, everything inchoate and slippery and way out of reach.

“Shit happens, Moll.”

“Don’t call me that.” I was cold, unmoved and threatening,

“All right, all right. Yes, I was having an affair. Things went a bit south between me and Scarlet.”

“I’m coming straight over.” My planned visit to Zach could wait.

“Might be awkward. My family liaison officer will be here in a couple of hours.”

At this I smiled. FLO’s existed to support victims. They also played an important role in chasing down any investigation. If dodgy stuff were going on with nearest and dearest, they were demons at unearthing it.

“Excellent,” I said.

“Molly, for Chrissakes.”

“Don’t worry.” My tone assured my brother-in-law that he should be very worried indeed. “See you in a bit.”

Outside Nate’s and Scarlet’s home, two men and a woman hovered like buzzards preparing to consume carrion. Beady eyes swivelled in my direction. I had no doubt they were from the press, an observation confirmed when the woman stepped towards me and asked if I knew the family of the ‘dead nurse’. Issuing my best ‘fuck off’ look, I swept past and rang the bell.

Someone, I presumed to be a police officer, answered the door. Sandy-haired, a little receding, not terribly tall, and with a flinty expression, he had that whole authoritative, commanding and suspicious vibe going on. One look and I felt guilty of nameless crimes.

“I’m Molly Napier, Scarlet’s sister and Nate’s sister-in-law,” I said.

“Warren Childe, family liaison officer.” His voice sounded as if it had a crack running down the middle of it. “Sorry for your loss. Best come in.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the gathering ghouls. He nodded in sympathy and stepped aside. As I swept down the hall, I heard him direct all enquiries to the press office. “And guys, can you please respect the privacy of the family at this difficult time.”

I found Nate seated on the sofa in the small sitting room with his face in his hands. He barely moved as I sat beside him. Seemed to be waiting for Childe.

“Tell her,” he muttered, when Childe came in.

I looked up questioningly as Childe cleared his throat. “The post-mortem threw up some anomalies.”

Anomalies. Cold. Analytical. Factual. Full-on police mode. I knew what was coming next. Except I didn’t. Not quite.

“Your sister had 240 milligrams per 100 millilitres of blood in her system – around three times the legal limit for driving,” Childe explained.

“What about Bowen?” Nate said. “Had he been drinking?”

“No evidence of substance abuse of any kind,” Childe said smoothly. “Preliminary enquiries suggest that the pre-collision mechanical condition of the vehicle was good. There were no tyre or skid marks on the road to suggest that Scarlet was forced to take evasive action.” Childe looked with an ‘are you with me so far’ expression. I responded with a dull nod.

“Witness statements suggest that the driver of the jeep —”

“My sister,” I protested.

“Deliberately,” he said, raising his voice a decibel, “drove into the path of the oncoming motorcyclist.”

I stared wide-eyed. Inside, a silent scream yelled No.

Chapter 17 (#ulink_05c8e02a-1c5b-5a94-bf1e-ffdbea2e1fa5)

My head felt as if a lump of lead was where my brain should be. Nate, next to me, physically jolted, his body lifting off the sofa by an inch. “What witnesses? Who are these bloody people?”

“The driver in the vehicle behind Bowen.”

“How fast was he travelling?” I said irritably.

“Saw it all. Said that Bowen braked at the very last second but, by then, it was too late.”

“You’re suggesting that my sister used her vehicle like a weapon, a battering ram?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Then how would you put it?” Nate interjected, cold with anger.

“I understand this is upsetting, but —”

“She could have blacked out, had a heart attack, or sneezed, for God’s sake,” I cut in. Throat raw and exposed, my voice was too loud. “There could have been oil on the road.”

“There wasn’t,” Childe said.

“You said witness statements. You mean more than one?”