The Woman Who Lied(88)
‘There is no way she’d risk coming back to London,’ he says. ‘She’ll be far away by now.’
She tells him about the beanie. ‘Ottilie planted it in the house. I still can’t believe it was her who killed Louise. I knew it couldn’t have been you.’
‘How could you ever have thought it was me, with my trustworthy face?’ he jokes, but she can see the toll the last few days, weeks and months have taken on him. He’s aged and she knows she has too. ‘I’m just so thankful you’re okay.’
Then she remembers the cat. ‘Hamish. The cat. Where is he?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ve got the cat. DI Murray found him in Ottilie’s apartment after you were taken away in the ambulance. I said we’d look after him.’
She stares at Elliot in shock. ‘But you hate pets.’
‘I don’t hate pets.’ He laughs. ‘And just because I’m a neat freak I don’t expect you to be too.’ His voice catches. ‘It’s my issue, Em. Not yours. Or the kids’. It just gives me the feeling of control, I suppose, of safety. It’s silly …’
She squeezes his hand, remembering the anxiety that sits beneath his surface, which he tries so hard to control, more even than she’d realized. ‘It isn’t silly. I get it.’ She sighs, picturing Ottilie and their last conversation. A tear slips down her cheek. ‘I’m not great at choosing friends, am I?’ First Kristin, then Ottilie, and Louise. Although Louise, it seems, chose her. She closes her eyes. Her head hurts and, despite everything Ottilie has done, grief sits heavily on her chest. She’s grieving for the old Ottilie. The person Emilia had always thought she was.
She must have dozed off because when she wakes up the room is dim and Elliot isn’t beside her bed. Instead, a woman sits on the chair, flicking through a magazine. It’s DI Murray.
She moves her chair closer. ‘Hi, Emilia, how are you feeling?’
‘Still a bit groggy. What day is it?’
‘Monday. Did Elliot tell you what happened?’
‘That you found me? Yes, he did. I can’t thank you enough. You probably saved my life.’
DI Murray grins. It softens her. ‘I’m sorry about Ottilie. And I’m sorry it took me a while to realize what was going on.’
‘I’m relieved that you did, and that Elliot was released. And poor Trevor. I owe him an apology.’
‘I’m sure he’ll understand. I can see why you thought it would be him. I did too for a bit. We’ve caught the praying-mantis murderer. A man named Martin Butterworth.’
She remembers DI Murray mentioning him before. ‘So it was him who killed Louise’s mum?’
DI Murray hesitates. ‘Ottilie’s father did have an affair with Louise’s mother. That much is true. We’ve spoken to him and he’s admitted it. He left the force not long after Jennifer Radcliffe was murdered. Took up a post abroad when Ottilie recovered from her breakdown and went back to boarding school, only returning to the UK now and again, staying in his Devon house or in London when he did. Louise wasn’t wrong about seeing him with her mother. But in terms of the murder, it bothered us that Jennifer wasn’t tied up or that her house hadn’t been broken into, despite other aspects matching the serial killer. For a while I wondered if it had been the work of someone else, just trying to make it look like she was a victim of the serial killer. But now I’m not so sure. It’s a possibility, of course, but I think what probably happened is that Charles left Jennifer that night, maybe not locking the door behind him, and Martin Butterworth was watching the house, let himself in and killed her while poor Louise was upstairs asleep. That’s why there was no sign of a break-in, like with the other cases. Maybe he didn’t have time to tie her up. I don’t know. Anyway, Butterworth is denying all of it but we have proof of the latest murder, at least, thanks to his DNA found at the scene. But the markings tie all of the crimes together, so we hope it stands up in front of a jury.’
‘So all those years Louise wrongly believed Charles was the killer, not only of her mother but of the other women too?’
‘Yes. But he was untouchable. Living abroad. She tracked down Ottilie instead, and when she found out she was a friend of yours she inveigled her way into your life.’
‘I wonder if she always planned to get me to write about it. Or whether that was just luck.’
DI Murray shifts in her chair. ‘I think she used you to get to Ottilie at first, and then, when she learned the murderer had struck again – thanks to Saunders telling her about it – she thought she needed to act. And luckily that coincided with you having a dry patch creatively. But there’s something else that the post-mortem threw up. Louise was gravely ill.’
Emilia’s heart twists. ‘What was wrong with her?’
‘She was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour, six months ago. She knew she didn’t have much time. Which might explain why she chose to harass you like she did, to escalate matters, to get your new book national press coverage, to try to discover her mother’s killer as soon as she could. I’m not saying it was an excuse for what she did, but her illness wouldn’t have helped her think rationally.’
Tears press against Emilia’s eyelids. She gathers the blanket in her hands. ‘I had no idea.’ She remembers the last time she saw Louise. How tired and pale she looked. How she said she was going to work but was wearing casual clothes.