“What do you mean? What cases?” Momentarily Eleanor was lost in what he meant.
“Suspicious deaths.” The policeman looked exasperated, and it made Eleanor realize that this had now officially become something else.
“Do you—I mean, do you think she was murdered, then? I mean, isn’t it possible that she fell or something?” Except she had seen Nancy, and her face sort of put paid to that thought, but she clung on stubbornly because it had to be the best option in a series of terrible ones.
“Everything is possible at this stage,” Detective Sergeant Daniels said calmly. “But there are certain indications that are pointing us toward the thought that this wasn’t an accidental death.”
“Oh God.” It felt like things were slipping away and they were entering a new realm.
“Mr. Hennessy told us you had dinner with Mrs. Hennessy last night.”
“Yes.”
“It makes what you tell us extremely important.”
“I suppose it does.” She could hear herself speaking, but it all seemed unlikely.
“How did Mrs. Hennessy seem? Do you know where she went after dinner? What time did you leave the restaurant?”
Eleanor drew in her breath because now, she knew, was the moment that she would make everything change. “We left around ten and Nancy went to meet her lover.”
The detective sat forward, unable to check his excitement. “Her lover? Who is that?”
“I don’t know.” Eleanor suddenly felt so weary she worried she might simply fall asleep. There was too much to tell and too little time.
“Does Mr. Hennessy know about the lover?”
“Yes. At least he does now. He rang me at four this morning because Nancy hadn’t come home, and I came round and told him. But he’d guessed already.”
“How had he guessed?”
She looked at the eager man writing in his book, and it struck her again that this was no more than a job to him, possibly a promotion if all went well. “I’m not sure. He said they’d been getting on badly and it’s one of the things you consider.”
“And you say you don’t know the lover’s identity?”
“That’s right. Nancy was very ashamed about it all. She’d only spoken to me about it because she felt so guilty, but she never told me any details.” Eleanor remembered what it had been like in the early days of the affair, when she’d practically had to peel Nancy off the ceiling to have a conversation, but she also wanted to protect Nancy from what she knew everyone would think because that wasn’t the truth about her friend. “The only thing she ever told me was that he was called David and she met him through work.”
“Nothing else? No surname?”
“Of course I’d tell you if I knew his surname.”
“But you’re sure he was called David?”
“Yes. It was the only specific piece of information she ever told me about him. And only because I asked so many times. She said I didn’t know him, so there was no point in telling me any details.” But then Eleanor remembered something from the night before, which seemed like a thousand years ago. “Oh, actually, I asked Nancy last night if he was married and had children, and she said yes.”
“That’s all she said? She didn’t tell you the name of his wife, or how many children?”
“No.” Eleanor focused on a line of red spots at the side of the policeman’s chin, which could be a shaving rash.
“Do you know how long it had been going on?”
“A bit over a year, that I know of.”
“So possibly longer?”
“Possibly, yes.” Although Nancy was bad at keeping things to herself, so Eleanor thought it unlikely.
“And did Nancy talk to anyone else about this?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe our good friend Mary, but I think I’d know if she had.” She thought of Mary going about her life, and it seemed impossible that it hadn’t yet been shattered. “She was really scared about Robert finding out, so I can’t imagine she spoke to anyone else about it.”
“And she said she met him through work?”
“Yes. I think she said at a party.”
“Where did Mrs. Hennessy work?”
“Well, actually, mainly at home. She translates books. She speaks fluent French, so if a publisher buys a French book, she translates it into English.”
Eleanor thought the policeman looked depressed at the number of paths that answer could lead him down.
“And when you left the restaurant last night, did Nancy tell you where she was meeting this David? Or did you see which direction she went?”
Eleanor felt her face flush with the memory of their parting. “Actually, Nancy left before me. I stayed on to pay, so no, I didn’t see where she went.” She wondered if the policeman understood what a terrible friend she was.
“Did you pay because Nancy had no money on her?”
“No. I mean, I didn’t ask, I just offered to pay.” At least that made Eleanor feel a bit better. “But Nancy always had money on her.”
“Would she have been carrying cash, do you think?”
“I don’t know. Why are you asking this?”
He looked like he didn’t want to tell her why, but then he said, “When she was found, her purse was lying open next to her body and there was no cash or cards in it.”
“She definitely would at least have had a card on her.”
“And did she have a phone?”
“Yes, of course. Was that gone as well?”
“We didn’t find one. Did you see her use her phone last night?”
Eleanor searched through her memory, but all she could see was Nancy’s pleading face. “No. Sorry. But I’m completely sure she would have had it on her.”
“Yes, most people do.”
“But surely her … I mean, the man she was meeting wouldn’t have robbed her?” It would definitely be better if she hadn’t been killed by the lover, as if it made Eleanor less responsible.
The policeman nodded, but then ruined it by saying, “Robbery isn’t the only reason someone might take those things.”
“Oh God—because there could be messages from him on her phone? Can’t you trace it somehow, or read the messages anyway?”
“We’ve got a team working on that now, but it’s not quite as easy as TV shows would have you believe.” He leaned back and stopped himself from stretching. “Anyway, you’ve been very helpful, Miss Meakins.”
* * *
Eleanor stayed until Zara got home, and then she left them to it—a weeping bundle of misery that made her feel like an intruder. Also Nancy’s mother, Pearl, was on her way, and the thought of seeing her was too much right then. She promised to come back in the morning, not sure if she was needed or wanted, except that Robert looked so grateful, she thought she should. It was dark again by the time Eleanor left, and this time nothing stopped her; it could have been a replay of the morning, and Nancy might not be dead and time could have unraveled, and any way you looked at it, nothing was ever going to be the same again.
She sat with her hands on the steering wheel, her body feeling shredded, as if a car had run over her and then reversed again and again. Her mouth was dry and her heart jarred against her ribs, the sweat lining her armpits so her own odor rose to greet her. Mary still didn’t know. It wasn’t something Eleanor had felt capable of telling her over the phone, but the policeman had warned her it would be all over the news that night and it was coming up for six o’clock, and she doubted Mary watched it that early, but who knew. She started the car and turned in the direction of Kilburn, inching along with the rush hour traffic, men and women locked in their own private lives, nothing out of the ordinary.