The Missing Marriage

‘Criminology and French.’

He smiled suddenly at her. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. Have you ever seen Martha Deane before?’

‘Only in photographs.’

‘Only in photographs,’ he repeated, quietly.

They were both thinking about the way Martha had come running through the rain towards her.

‘We had a call earlier from a security guard at the international ferry terminal on the south side of the Tyne – he thought he saw a body in the water.’ Laviolette was watching Anna as he said it. ‘You put a call out and people start taking every bit of driftwood they see for a body. Coastguard got a call earlier from a woman at Cullercoats who claimed she saw a body in the water – turned out to be a log.’

Anna was aware that she was holding her breath.

‘Well, the security guard did see a body – but not our body.’

She exhaled as quietly as she could while the Inspector clicked up the lid of the CD storage unit by the handbrake.

There was only one CD in there.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she said, turning to look at him. ‘This has been assessed medium to high risk, hasn’t it?’

‘After hearing your statement, I’m escalating it to high,’ he concluded heavily. ‘The sea temperature was around eight degrees Celcius today. The fifty percent immersion survival time for a normally clothed person in reasonable health with no underlying medical conditions is two hours.’

‘He wasn’t in the sea, he was in a kayak – and he was wearing a wet suit.’

Laviolette tried to prop his elbow on the window, but there was too much condensation. ‘How would you describe your relationship to Bryan Deane?’

‘Friend of the family,’ she said, automatically.

‘Did suicide ever cross your mind?’

‘No.’

‘Said with conviction.’ He was smiling again now, a light smile that broke up his face into a network of fine lines. ‘Why not? You saw Bryan Deane for the first time today in over sixteen years, and you’d rule out suicide? What makes you so sure?’

‘Martha. I saw them together this morning.’

Anna saw again – the tall girl in riding clothes with hair the colour she remembered Laura’s being as a child, standing on the grass verge beside her father, not much shorter.

Bryan had his arm round her shoulders and Martha had gripped onto it while staring sullenly at Anna, hitting her crop against the sole of her boot.

‘They seemed really connected. I don’t know.’ She shrugged irritably, aware that the Inspector was smiling at her still. ‘I just can’t imagine him leaving her behind.’ She paused, turning to him. ‘You’re seriously considering the possibility that the disappearance is voluntary?’

‘I don’t know much about Bryan Deane, but I do know that he’s Area Manager at Tyneside Properties and that Tyneside Properties have had to shut down two of their branches in the past nine months. Then I hear that he owns an apartment overlooking the marina down at Royal Quays in North Shields that’s been on the market for months. Then tonight – as I’m heading home, I hear Bryan Deane’s disappeared, and I find that interesting.’ He waited for her to say something, rubbing the condensation from the window and staring up at the Deanes’ house. ‘I wonder what’s going on in there now,’ he said. The downstairs had gone dark, but there were lights on upstairs. ‘Not a lot of love lost between those two. Mother and daughter, I mean.’

Anna remained silent.

‘A sad house,’ he concluded tonelessly, turning to her. ‘Why d’you think that is?’

‘A man’s disappeared.’

He shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. The sadness was underlying. Invasive.’

‘Invasive?’ She smiled.

‘It’s funny, isn’t it – the things people end up wanting out of life.’

Ignoring this – it was too ambivalent, and she was too exhausted – she said, ‘They were in shock.’

‘Martha Deane was – yes.’

‘And Laura Deane,’ Anna insisted, unsure why she suddenly felt the need to insist on this when she hadn’t believed it herself. ‘There’s no right way to show shock – you know that.’

‘I think Laura Deane was enjoying the attention – to a point.’

Even though she agreed with him, Anna didn’t comment on this. She’d sensed the same thing – as well as a mixture of anxiety and what could only be described as excitement coming off Laura, but she didn’t mention this either. Partly because she felt the Inspector already knew these things, and partly because she hadn’t yet made up her mind about Inspector Laviolette. She didn’t know how she felt about Laura either, but there was definitely an old childish loyalty there, which surprised her. To put it another way, she didn’t feel quite ready to sacrifice Laura to the Inspector – not until she was certain of a few more facts herself.

‘And I’d like to see Bryan Deane’s life insurance policy,’ the Inspector added. When this provoked no response either, he said, ‘Who are you protecting?’

‘Myself.’ Looking at the clock in the dashboard, she said, ‘For the past twenty minutes I’ve been unable to shake the impression that I’m somehow under suspicion.’

‘Of what?’

Then his phone started ringing. He checked the caller and switched it off, looking momentarily much older. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. Then, ‘I might want to call you again.’

‘DS Chambers has got my details.’

He hesitated then dropped the phone back into his coat pocket.

Anna got out of the car.

The rain was easing off, and she was about to shut the door when she said, ‘Laviolette’s an unusual name.’

‘Not to me it isn’t.’

She looked up instinctively at the house and he followed her gaze. There was a curtain moving at the window above the front porch, as if it had just been dropped back into place.

‘D’you want to know something I noticed?’

She stood waiting by the car.

Even though the rain was easing off, her hair and face felt wet and there was a fine dusting of water over the front of her jumper still.

‘Laura Deane’s not half as upset by Bryan Deane’s disappearance as you are.’

The yellow Ford Capri turned out of the Duneside development and headed north up the coastal road. There were soon high dunes running alongside the car beyond Anna’s right shoulder as the beam from St Mary’s lighthouse flashed precisely over treacherous waters and, inland, over a betrayed country that was only just getting to its knees again. It wasn’t yet standing, but it was at least kneeling and this was what determined local councillors wanted people to know as they set about transforming the past into heritage with the smattering of civic art that had sprung up – like the quayside statue outside the apartment in Blyth that she’d taken a short-term let on.