The Husband's Secret(138)

            Tess rolled her eyes. “He’s my husband. He knows what I look like first thing in the morning. And if he’s that superficial, then I don’t want him.”

            “Yes, you’re right of course,” said Lucy. She tapped her lower lip. “Gosh, Felicity was looking particularly lovely today, wasn’t she?”

            Tess laughed. Maybe she would feel more resilient if she were dressed. “Fine, Mum, I’ll go put a ribbon in my hair and pinch my cheeks. Come on, cripple. I don’t know why you had to come outside to see her off.”

            “I didn’t want to miss any of the action.”

            “They never did sleep together, you know,” whispered Tess as she held the screen door with one hand and her mother’s elbow with the other.

            “Seriously?” said Lucy. “How peculiar. In my day infidelity was a much raunchier affair.”

            “I’m ready!” Liam came running down the hallway.

            “For what?” said Tess.

            “To go fly a kite with that teacher. Mr. Whatby or whatever his name is.”

            “Connor,” breathed Tess, and nearly lost hold of her mother. “Shit. What time is it? I’d forgotten.”





            Rachel’s mobile rang just as she got to the end of Rob and Lauren’s street. She pulled the car over to answer it. It was probably Marla, ringing for Janie’s anniversary. Rachel was happy to talk to her. She felt like complaining about Lauren’s perfectly toasted hot cross buns.

            “Mrs. Crowley?” It wasn’t Marla. It was a woman’s voice. She sounded like a snooty doctor’s receptionist: nasal and self-important. “This is Detective-Sergeant Strout from the Homicide Squad. I meant to call you last night, but I ran out of time, so I thought I would try to catch you this morning.”

            Rachel’s heart leapt. The video. She was calling on Good Friday. A public holiday. It had to be good news.

            “Hello,” she said warmly. “Thank you for calling.”

            “Well. I wanted to let you know that we received the video from Detective Bellach and we have, er, reviewed it.” Detective-Sergeant Strout was younger than she’d first sounded. She was putting on her best professional voice for the call. “Mrs. Crowley, I understand you may have had high expectations, that you even thought this might have been something of a breakthrough. So I’m sorry if this is disappointing news, but I have to tell you that at this stage, we won’t be questioning Connor Whitby again. We don’t think the video justifies it.”

            “But it’s his motive,” said Rachel desperately. She looked through the car windshield at a magnificent gold-leafed tree soaring up to the sky. “Can’t you see that?” As she watched, a single gold leaf detached itself and began to fall, circling rapidly through the air.

            “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Crowley. At this stage there’s really nothing further we can do.” There was sympathy there, yes, but Rachel could also hear a young professional’s condescension toward an elderly layperson. The victim’s mother. Obviously far too emotional to be objective. Didn’t understand police procedure. Part of the job to try to soothe her.

            Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. The leaf vanished from sight.

            “If you’d like me to come around and talk to you after the Easter break,” said Detective-Sergeant Strout, “I’d be happy to make a time that suits.”

            “That won’t be necessary,” said Rachel icily. “Thank you for the call.”

            She hung up and threw the phone so that it landed on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat.