The Other Passenger Page 51
Kelvin is reaching the end of his roll call of shame. ‘On December the second, they took out a new credit card and were able to withdraw almost ten thousand pounds on it.’
‘Ten grand?’ Clare echoes. ‘Well, they didn’t use it for the rent, obviously.’
‘They paid off one of the other loans?’ I suggest.
‘There’s no evidence of them doing that. Since it was withdrawn in cash, I’d suggest it was for personal spending, something they didn’t want to be traced.’ He pauses, looks at Clare, as if for her approval. Evidently, it is given, because he expands his chest as if poised to say something significant. ‘If you want my opinion, you and Piers could be right.’
‘Right about what?’ I ask, but he doesn’t respond. I turn to Clare. ‘Please, tell me.’
The look she gives me then makes my stomach drop. It’s a deep, complicated look, expressive of extreme and conflicting emotions. It’s a look that says, Much as I hate to help a bastard like you, I’m about to because what’s going on here is too fucking serious for party politics.
Cowed, ashamed, and seriously spooked, I ask again what they’re talking about.
Finally, she tells me: ‘We think Kit and Melia are setting you up.’
35
30 December 2019
There is a moment of hideous breakneck freefall when all I can do is gawp. Finally, I recover my vocal cords: ‘Setting me up in what way?’
Clare’s expression deepens. ‘They’re pretending something terrible has happened to him, something you caused, so Melia can claim on Kit’s life insurance.’
Something you caused. My heart rate accelerates and I think I’m going to be sick.
‘It’s a really great policy, as you can imagine, given who he works for. The basic payout would be well over a million.’
I put down my plate. ‘You think this because they withdrew a bunch of cash?’
‘Yes, you need cash when you go into hiding, you can’t go using cashpoints or contactless, you can’t do anything that can be traced to your old identity.’ Clare looks to Kelvin for confirmation and he gives a quick nod.
‘Old identity?’ The muscles in my cheeks are numb with shock. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know it sounds crazy, but Piers and I discussed it in depth and if you think it through, it adds up. They may have been planning it for some time, months probably. Your little fling with her might have been strategic – I assume she was the one who initiated it?’ Again, Clare glances at Kelvin, who this time looks down at his sparkling water. He has turned pink, but for a white zone at his hairline.
My mouth is so dry my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth. I peel it away to repeat, ‘Strategic?’
‘Yes, to create a motive for you to kill Kit. You said the police as good as accused you when they interviewed you. And you said you thought Kit suspected something about you and her. Well, I bet he’s known all along. It may have been his idea in the first place.’
‘Jesus, Clare.’ My senses are under attack: as well as the dry mouth and stiff face, there’s a burning sensation behind my eyes, a jangling in my ears.
She continues: ‘Think about it. It’s not a coincidence that you were the last person to see him – they planned it that way. Last Monday was the perfect night to do it, Christmas drinks, everyone wasted. It would have been easy for him to start an argument, make sure there was a camera nearby. The fact that you went off to Edinburgh the next morning was a bonus – it makes it look like you couldn’t get out of town fast enough. Meanwhile, Melia gets him into hiding and reports him missing to the police. Confesses to her affair, says she was scared you were jealous or possessive. She doesn’t even need to accuse you directly, it’s their job to put two and two together and you can bet your life they will. Have they been in touch since Friday?’
‘Yes.’ I gulp, straining to process her narrative, rattled off with a terrible ring of plausibility. ‘One of the detectives came round this morning.’
‘The police were here this morning? In the house?’ Her voice rises an octave. ‘That’s not a good sign, Jamie. This drugs thing is a total red herring, probably meant to lull you into a false sense of security. They’re playing you – Kit and Melia are playing you!’
I know when Clare’s convinced, and she’s convinced. Her intensity is infectious, making my pulse pound. I turn to Kelvin for a more balanced appraisal. ‘Tell me about this insurance policy. They don’t pay out on missing persons cases, do they?’
‘Not unless the insured person has been declared dead,’ he says, simply.
‘Don’t you get it?’ Clare cries. ‘People tend to get declared dead when someone’s been found guilty of their murder! And you don’t always need a body to prove it. We’ve seen it on those true crime shows, it can really happen!’ She is becoming upset, pulling furiously at the roots of her fringe until a strand of blonde hair stands on end.
I try to steady my breathing, wrench the momentum from her. ‘Let’s talk this through. You’re saying Kit’s faked his own murder and disappeared intentionally. Where do you suggest he’s hiding? Rio? The Costa del Sol?’
I’ve intended a level of sarcasm, but she answers me straight: ‘That’s a point, it would be good to know if his passport’s missing. The police would have checked that, right? Or he may be closer than we think, people often are when they go into hiding. You remember that guy who faked his own death in a canoeing accident? He turned out to have been living a couple of doors down from his “widow” all along.’
As I flush deeper, the wounds on my face smart. ‘You’re saying he’s still in St Mary’s?’
Kelvin, who has been chewing a fingertip, lets his hand drop and chips in: ‘I don’t know. There aren’t many properties you can rent for cash. And ten thousand pounds won’t last long in London.’
Clare’s eyes gleam as a new idea takes root. ‘What if they’re not paying? He could be squatting somewhere. We could start by checking the flats Melia has shown over the last few weeks; sometimes they’re empty for days at a time, even weeks. She could move him from place to place, tip him off if there was a viewing or cleaners coming in or whatever. For all we know, she took this job with this in mind. Set it all up and then looked around for a fall guy. She’s incredibly attractive, Kelvin. She could have targeted anyone and he’d have fallen for it. I’ll show you a photo on my phone . . .’
She could have targeted anyone: as Kelvin concedes Melia’s exceptional visual appeal (a wedding shot, I gather), the phrase rings in my ears, disturbs my equilibrium. I repeat my mantra: Trust me, Jamie.
‘The police need to check her phone,’ Clare adds. ‘See if she’s been communicating with an unknown number. Ask them, Jamie, when you next speak to them.’
‘Surely if she’d gone to these lengths she’d be using an untraceable pay-as-you-go?’ Kelvin says.
‘Maybe, but she’s not a professional criminal, she’ll make mistakes. Like the paper trail for this loan you’ve found, which is good for us. Good for Jamie.’ There’s a catch of tenderness in her voice, but she corrects herself quickly, remembering that we’re separated now, there is no ‘us’, and it causes a reciprocal pang in me. I was wrong to think she had any nefarious agenda in commissioning this investigation; only a very special person would have the grace to defend her cheating ex like this.