The Mistress - Jill Childs Page 0,46

us, then turned back to him. He was sitting quietly, watching me, watching the cogs inside my head turning, waiting to see what I was going to say next. I had the feeling that nothing and no one would ever catch him by surprise.

‘Who do you work for?’

He nodded as if to say, now, that’s a sensible question.

‘Insurance people.’ He kept his eyes on me. ‘Life insurance. Like I said, I’m all about the cash. And I’ll tell you something for nothing about insurance companies. First thing, they’ll take a hit if they really have to but they’d rather not. Second thing, they don’t play nice. They’ll throw good money after bad, trying to avoid a pay-out. Go figure.’

‘So that’s what you’re here for?’ I hesitated. ‘To stop Helen getting any money?’

He looked at me thoughtfully, as if I were turning into a promising pupil. ‘Early days. I’m here to check it out. She’s stopped the payments on his policy, see? Filed a missing person notice. That’s stage one. So the company wants to know what’s been going on, before they get any further. Next thing you know, she’ll be trying to claim.’ He shrugged, responding to the look on my face. ‘It’s a tough business, but a fella’s gotta eat. Ask the missus.’

‘But Helen will need money, don’t you see? She doesn’t work. And there’s Anna.’

He nodded. ‘Don’t I know it.’

I bit my lip. ‘Even if he did, you know… if he wasn’t always faithful…’

‘Go on.’

‘What’s that got to do with his life insurance? They’ll still have to pay out, won’t they? I mean, eventually?’

He widened his eyes. ‘Oh, you’d be surprised. There’s all sort of loopholes. I’ve just got to find one.’

My voice sharpened. ‘You don’t care what you do, do you? You don’t care how you get your money. You’d stop a grieving widow and her little girl getting the money they need.’

‘Like I said, a fella’s gotta eat.’ He didn’t look offended, just thoughtful as if he were analysing my sudden flash of anger and considering what it meant. ‘And, I wonder… grieving widow?’ He raised a questioning eyebrow.

I hesitated, my pulse quickening.

‘Something about all this missing person business,’ he said with care. ‘I don’t know. Something just doesn’t add up. Know what I mean?’

For a while, the silence hung heavily. He was motionless and, although I was so close to him, he made no noise at all. This was his skill. He seemed able to turn himself to stone for minutes, hours, days, if he needed to. I thought about how matter-of-fact he was, how knowing. Justice wasn’t what mattered, he’d said. Only cash. Was he a man who’d do anything if the money was good enough and the risk low? I suspected so.

For my part, my pulse banged in my ears and my fingers twitched on the hard seats.

Finally he said, ‘For one thing, there’s the fact we don’t have the body yet. Until we do, it’s hard to know for sure what happened. And then, there’s the wife. Mrs W.’

‘What about her?’

‘Her alibi.’ He paused. ‘It’s a bit fishy, if you’ll pardon the expression.’

I blinked and looked away. It was too much. I wanted to get out, to drive home, to pour myself a large glass of wine and get away from this man’s all-knowing eyes. But I needed to know. I needed to understand how much he really knew. Or I’d never feel safe.

I thought about Helen, standing at the front door, staring at me in disbelief – about the way she’d prostrated herself over his body, wailing. About the way she’d forced herself to become calm, to make her mind work, as I vomited into the downstairs toilet. About the fact we’d driven Ralph’s body down to the coast and sailed out to sea to dump it.

I said, ‘What alibi?’

He sighed. ‘She was at a parents’ talk at school. No question about that. Dozens of people saw her there. Her husband was home with the little girl. Then she went home and took over from him. A school mum dropped her off. That friend’s mum. Did you say Clara Higgins?’

I nodded.

‘Well, Mrs W says her husband headed out as soon as she walked in the door. Must’ve been waiting for her to get back, ready for the off. She was a devoted mum, everyone says so. Meticulous. Low risk. Did everything by the book. Not the type to leave a seven-year-old on her own at night, right?’

I managed another nod. His