And now it was just her and Shane. Home alone. That thought made her cringe because in the past, they would have made good use of that situation and now, nothing revolted her more. She hadn’t said one word to him that wasn’t totally necessary, yes or no was as chatty as it got. She’d even wedged a chair under her door handle in case he got any ideas about wanting to sneak into her room but surely even he could take a hint. Cold glares and silence weren’t that hard to read.
She found him already outside, leaning against the pergola post near the back terrace, a matching mug of coffee in hand. He wore his favourite designer jeans and a fine knit jumper, pale blue flecked with slubs of cream, the hem of a white T-shirt peeking out underneath. It was the kind of outfit that made him look relaxed but she knew it would’ve been carefully chosen; such was his vanity that had no regard for circumstance. His dark hair was tousled just so, and his face, clean-shaven and calm when he turned, gave nothing away. But there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his stance that betrayed something beneath the surface, waiting to be said.
‘Morning,’ she said, her voice clipped.
‘Morning. Sleep all right?’
‘Not really.’ Molly sipped her coffee, the bitterness matching the thoughts in her head.
They stood apart, the space between them charged with things unsaid.
‘Can we talk?’ she said after a beat.
He nodded, but didn’t move closer. The breeze ruffled the clematis that trailed over the trellis behind him, its leaves whispering in the awkward silence.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the row with Mum? Before you came to the hotel?’
Shane let out a breath, eyes on the garden. ‘Because it would have ruined the night. I wanted to be with you, not bring that into it.’
‘You think that was fair? I had to hear it from Magda. You lied to me.’
He turned to her now, that familiar charm dialled low but still simmering behind his gaze. ‘I didn’t lie. I withheld. I just wanted to keep it separate. I knew she was angry, and I didn’t want to offload on you.’
Molly narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re very good at pretending. The performance you gave when you came home, the devastated husband. It was… Oscar-worthy. Had it been different circumstances I’d have stood up and applauded.’
Shane’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, more of a tell. ‘I was shocked. And sad. Whatever issues Julia and I had, I wouldn’t have wished this on her.’
‘Did you know she was going to divorce you?’
He hesitated. Just a second too long.
‘I saw an email,’ he said. ‘From Nancy. Julia had left her laptop open. I didn’t mean to snoop, but I saw the subject line. That was enough.’
Molly studied him. His answers felt too off-pat. Then a thought she had to vocalise. ‘You said you took Mum a bottle of wine up and wanted to chat. Why? You hadn’t done anything like that with her for ages and it seems odd.’
‘If you must know, it was an excuse just to go up there and talk. Break the ice, I suppose. And let’s face it, she’d been knocking the booze back lately so I thought she’d appreciate it.’
Shane might not have heard the spite in his own voice but Molly had and she was just about to go back with a sarky retort when the doorbell rang. She turned her head toward the sound,then back to Shane. He looked annoyed but masked it quickly. After placing their mugs on the outdoor table, they both moved toward the house, the hallway cold and gloomy as they entered, the echo of their footsteps sounding off the marble tiles.
At the door stood DI Yates and DC Stone. Yates, tall and lean in his pressed suit, carried an air of practised neutrality. His sharp grey eyes seemed to take in everything which made Molly self-conscious, her shabby appearance and sickly pallor suddenly bothering her. Shane’s guarded expression had drawn attention not only from her but Stone, who stood behind Yates, his notepad ready.
‘Sorry to drop in again,’ Yates said, eyes scanning Molly’s face, then moving past her to Shane. ‘We just have a couple more questions for Mr Jones, if that’s all right.’
‘Sure,’ Shane said, folding his arms and leaning against the door frame. ‘You can ask them right here. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
Worried that Dee and Nancy might return at any minute, or someone walking their dog on the path beyond the conifers might overhear, Molly invited the detectives inside. Once the door was closed behind them, she looked expectantly at Yates, willing him to get on with it.
Yates offered a polite smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘It’s quite a simple enquiry really and I’m sure it can be cleared up quickly. When we called the Crowne Plaza in Glasgow, we were informed that you didn’t check in.’
The air shifted. Molly’s blood went cold. She didn’t dare look at Shane and was thankful that Yates had him in his sights, not her. But when she glanced at Stone, she felt her face flush the second she realised she was under scrutiny.
She was so grateful when Yates broke the spell. He continued, voice even. ‘Mr Jones, would you care to explain yourwhereabouts the night Mrs Lassiter died? Where did you go when you left these premises?’
Shane held up his hands. ‘All right, all right. Cards on the table. I wasn’t in Glasgow. I lied.’
Molly’s legs wobbled beneath her. She gripped the steel banister for balance.
‘I’ve been seeing someone,’ Shane admitted. ‘It’s been going on a little while. I was with her that night.’
