Inspector Rames

Chapter 41

The living room door squeaked open behind us. "Here we are, three... Oh."

I dropped the letter and turned around. "I think you have some explaining to do, Mrs Temple."

Janet put a tray down on the coffee table, her eyes filling. She sank onto the opposite sofa and buried her head in her hands.

I thrust a mug of green tea at Alex. He stared at it with distaste and dumped it out of my reach, returning his attention to Janet. "Mrs Temple?"

"It was shoved under the door this morning." She raised her head, her eyes wide. "I don't know what it means. You have to believe me."

"It suggests that Lonn's a murderer," I said. "And that you are, too."

"I'm not!" Her voice was a strangled screech, and she pressed a hand against her throat. "I didn't kill Lonn. And I don't know -- I don't understand what it's talking about. He can't have..."

"Do you recognise the handwriting?" Alex asked.

"Aye. God, it's Lonn's."

I exchanged a glance with my sergeant and amended, "You mean someone else is impersonating him."

She nodded. "But when I first read it this morning, for a moment I thought...I thought he was back."

"And you're sure you don't understand what the letter is referring to?"

She nodded again with a little shiver.

I handed a second mug of green tea to Alex, keeping my eyes on Janet. "If you have nothing to hide, why didn't you call and tell us about the letter this morning? Whether it's speaking the truth or not, it's evidence linked to Lonn's murder."

Her gaze slid away. "I was going to get around to it. But it was such a shock. I had to give myself some time."

"Right. Or was it because you know that you have a motive for Lonn's murder, and this is evidence against you?"

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "I'm sorry?"

"Yesterday, you told us that you remained here between seven and nine on Thursday evening. In fact, you said you'd gone to bed at eight. What you actually did was go to The Silver Star with another man at seven and leave the premises at half eight. What did you do with the last half hour of our murder window, I wonder? Maybe you wanted Lonn out of the picture. Maybe your new man did."

Janet paled. "H-how --?"

"My job is to find the truth. And I always do. What happened after you left The Silver Star?"

"Nothing! I came back home. I would never have hurt Lonn -- and I would never have been unfaithful to him, either."

"Then who were you with?" Alex asked.

Janet's bottom lip trembled. "My solicitor. I wanted a divorce."

"Because of Lonn's drinking problems?" I guessed.

She sighed. "He's been an alcoholic for years. I couldn't cope any longer. He didn't want to get better, and he was spending so much time away from home... Really, we'd fallen out of love. I didn't see any reason to continue ruining my sanity when my efforts to save him were so fruitless."

Alex cast his second mug aside. "Could we have the details of your solicitor, please?"

***

We put the letter in a ziplock bag and took it away with us. At the front door, Alex flatly thanked Janet for her green tea, and I had to dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from giggling.

"You didn't have any," he complained as soon as we were in the lift and sinking to the ground floor.

"Neither did you!"

"I tried it the second time. It was terrible."

I laughed. "Did it help?"

"No. Sorry."

My laughter died.

We left the building and entered the afternoon's artificial sunlight. Alex cleared his throat. "So, Thursday evening. Janet discusses her divorce with her solicitor. She realises that it's going to leave her as a much poorer woman. But she also realises that if Lonn dies, all his money will go to her." He glanced at me. "Are we going to find her solicitor?"

"We'll just video call him from the station. I've already dragged you back and forth twice today, and in your state, that's enough. But you can make your brain cells run around a bit more. What's going on with this letter?"

He rubbed his jaw. "Either Janet is the murderer, or the sender is. If they believe Lonn and Janet murdered someone else, they might have murdered Lonn and tried to place the blame on Janet. Although they seemed more interested in truth than violence."

"Perhaps they lost their rationality on Thursday evening," I said. "And if we find out who they were avenging -- or thought they were avenging -- we can find out who they are."

***

We caught a tram to the high street. By the time we disembarked, the weather simulator had started to spit rain. Black skyscrapers stood like silhouettes as the light dimmed, and only the flashing signs that raced down their walls were clear in the descending gloom.

Some Saturday shoppers picked their next stores at random and hurried inside, their heads ducked to shield their faces. Some pulled umbrellas out of their bags. But as a minute ticked by and the rain grew heavier, more admitted defeat and retreated.

As we turned onto the long road that led to the police station, the rain became an all-out downpour. Water roared against glass roofs and flowed down gutters. Two seconds was all it took for it to soak me to the bone. A strand of dark hair flew across my cheek as I turned to Alex. "Run!"

My hand found his, and he pulled me into motion. We raced down the tarmac towards the station door, splashing through the puddles that were already swelling, and screeched to a halt before the facial recognition scanners. The smell of the downpour was rejuvenating the atmosphere, as if someone had ripped open a new packet of fresh air.

The facial recognition scanners flashed green, and the station door beeped and began to rise. I ducked underneath it and paused in the empty lobby to wait for my sergeant. My white shirt had turned see-through, and my hair was hanging down my back in rat tails.

Alex joined me a moment later, his pale face shining. He caught hold of my shoulder roughly. I staggered. "Alex?"

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I don't think they like me running."

Was he acknowledging that the video contacts might be the problem? I hesitated over what to say.

He opened his eyes and pulled back, and the moment was over. "Is your ankle okay?"

I realised that I'd forgotten all about it. My old injury was throbbing, but the small discomfort had been lost in my adrenaline.

Hysteria rose without warning. We were unwell and injured. Clueless. Hopeless.

"Amber?" Alex frowned, raising a hand to touch my cheek.

I stepped back and covered my eyes, but the tears just slipped between my fingers.