Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,15

bouncing from DC White to DI Cornish.

‘It’s a she,’ DI Cornish says, ‘and no, she is adamant that she has reached the correct conclusion.’

‘But we could have another pathologist double-check, couldn’t we?’

‘That has already happened, Mrs Palmer. It’s why it’s taken us over three days to get the report and to notify you of the findings.’

I sink back into the pale leather armchair. How is it possible that Adam was electrocuted?

‘Could you tell us again the exact order of events on the night that Mr Palmer died?’

So I do. I admit that we had an argument earlier in the evening prior to his death, but I don’t tell them what it was about. I say that I dived into the pool the moment I saw his body. I tell them everything I have already told them.

‘Could a mouse have eaten through some wiring?’ I ask.

DC White shakes his head. ‘Appliances and sockets in the areas around water and swimming pools are separated by extra-low voltage, not more than 12 volts. Our colleagues are talking to the company that maintains your pool, and they have confirmed that their last visit was two months ago.’

‘Adam swam most nights.’ I can’t stop shaking my head. It makes no sense.

‘Do you know anyone who might want to harm Mr Palmer?’ DI Cornish asks.

It feels as if someone has clasped their hands around my throat. ‘No. He was a good man.’

And it’s true. Most people liked Adam; he was charming; it was only me who found him intolerable, fed up with his cheating. He was a good man, wasn’t he? Of course he had his flaws. He had a tendency towards ostentation and was frequently intolerant. He wasn’t a hands-on father, but he certainly loved our kids. And I loved him. I mustn’t let the memories of the last few years cloud what was, for at least eight years, a happy marriage. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him.

I miss their next question. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I was asking if you could explain the structure of your company.’

‘Yes. Ajay and I each own fifty percent of the shares.’

‘That’s Mr Arya?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Mr Palmer?’

‘He didn’t own any shares, but he was our finance director.’

‘And how is the company doing?’ Cornish glances at his notebook and adds, ‘Cracking Crafts. They call you the queen of crafts, don’t they?’

I grimace. ‘The last six months have been difficult. It’s the same for all retail businesses. But what has that got to do with Adam’s death?’

‘What was Mr Palmer’s relationship like with Mr Arya?’

‘It was okay.’

I stare out of the window. I can’t tell them that Adam was having an affair with Ajay’s wife. Ajay is the injured party here, as am I, and he deserves my support. I try to imagine how I would feel if the police had told me my husband was having an affair. Too awful to countenance. So much better to find it out myself or to be told by someone I know. But Adam and Ajay’s relationship has been strained the last few months. I thought it was due to Adam’s father’s death and the disintegration of our marriage. With hindsight, I suppose Adam must have felt guilty about what he was doing to his old friend and business partner.

‘Mrs Palmer?’ DI Cornish says, startling me.

‘Sorry.’

‘You were telling us about the relationship between your husband and Mr Arya.’

‘Yes, well…’

‘We understand that you are still in shock and grieving, but it’s vitally important that you are totally transparent with us regarding any strained relationships your husband had with friends, colleagues or acquaintances.’

‘Things were not great between Ajay and Adam, but that was probably due to our crumbling marriage.’

‘Are you in a relationship with Mr Arya?’

‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘No! You’ve got that totally wrong. It was Adam who was having the affair. Ajay knows nothing about it.’

DC White leans forwards.

‘And who was your husband having an affair with?’ DI Cornish asks, his eyes narrowed.

‘Marianne,’ I say, in a whisper. ‘Please don’t tell Ajay. He doesn’t know, and there’s no need to tell him now that Adam is dead.’

‘And Marianne is who exactly?’ DI Cornish frowns.

‘Marianne Arya. Ajay’s wife.’

‘So Mrs Arya was having a relationship with your husband?’

‘Yes.’ I rub my eyes. ‘I only found out last week.’

And then I sit as still as a statue. Don’t they say that nine times out of ten, it’s the spouse who is responsible for the suspicious death? Have I just given the police a reason for suspecting me?

I