Wrong Place Read online

  ‘Mind if we sit down?’ Green asked, dragging a bright orange plastic chair right up to the bedside. Maggie followed.

  ‘Of course. I want to help in any way I can,’ said Bramwell with a weak smile.

  Maggie felt uncharacteristically nervous as Green nodded at her to begin. With only the three of them in the small private room it wasn’t as though she had an audience, but there was a lot riding on what happened in the coming minutes and she wanted to make a good impression on Green, who she’d come to admire and respect.

  ‘We still haven’t located your wife, Mr Bramwell,’ Maggie began. ‘We’re following up every possible lead but we want to ask you again if you can think of anywhere she might be.’ Start softly, then hit him with it, were Green’s final instructions before they entered Bramwell’s room.

  ‘I honestly can’t,’ he replied, fixing his dark brown eyes on her. There was something unsettling about the way he was appraising her.

  ‘We believe she could still be in the Mansell area as she was last spotted at the train station but didn’t board a train. Do you know why she would want to stay in Mansell?’

  Maggie clocked the split-second flinch that Bramwell quickly segued into a shrug.

  ‘I don’t.’

  Green nudged her foot against Maggie’s. That was her cue.

  ‘Isn’t it because you’re both from the town originally?’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken,’ he said evenly. ‘We’re from Coventry originally, but now we live in Trenton.’

  ‘Mr Bramwell, we know who you are. Or rather, who you were.’

  His eyes bore into Maggie’s for what felt like ages. Then he dropped his head and shut them as he exhaled. It was a long, sad sigh. Maggie and DI Green waited in silence until he raised his head again.

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘DC Neville is with Mansell CID and came across a picture of you from back in the day while working on another case, then she recognized you from the wedding portrait we have of you and your wife,’ said Green. ‘You should’ve told us you were from Mansell when I interviewed you earlier. I told you your wife had gone missing from a hotel in the town.’

  ‘What was I supposed to say?’ he protested. ‘I wake up in hospital and you tell me Eleanor’s tried to kill me and frame me and that she’s attacked some old lady in Mansell and I haven’t got a clue why.’

  ‘You told DI Green that you’d never heard of Sadie Cardle, but you have, haven’t you?’ said Maggie.

  Bramwell closed his eyes again.

  ‘You also knew Helen Cardle, didn’t you?’

  When he didn’t answer, Green nudged Maggie’s foot again.

  ‘Why did you change your name from Niall Hargreaves to Simon Bramwell?’

  Bramwell gave a sharp intake of breath at hearing the name he hadn’t used since 2004. The email Maggie had read out in the car to DI Green was from The National Archives in Kew, confirming that Niall Hargreaves had registered a change of name five years after the accident which killed three of his friends and resulted in a conviction for dangerous driving and four years in prison.

  ‘Why do you think? I wanted to put the past behind me and start again. I couldn’t be that person any more.’ Bramwell’s voice cracked and he appeared on the verge of breaking down. ‘I live every day with what I did and I make no complaint about that, it’s what I deserve. But changing my name has allowed me to build a different life from the one I would’ve had if I stayed as Niall.’

  ‘Does your wife know you changed your name?’

  A moment’s hesitation, then, ‘No.’

  ‘Not when you got married?’ asked Green. ‘Wouldn’t you have had to present your original birth certificate to obtain a marriage licence?’

  ‘I took care of all the paperwork, so Eleanor never knew I had to show my Deed Poll documents with my birth certificate.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her?’ Maggie wanted to know. ‘It’s a pretty big secret to keep from someone you love.’

  ‘I was ashamed. I didn’t want her to know that my actions had caused the deaths of three people and that I’d been in prison. If I’d told her that when we met, she probably would’ve run a mile.’ He looked beseechingly at Maggie. ‘I thought I deserved a second chance. I did my time. I was young and stupid and I wanted to start again.’

  ‘Is there any way she could’ve found out and that’s what’s sparked her behaviour?’

  ‘There’s no possible way she could have.’

  It was Maggie’s turn to appraise Bramwell and she quickly decided he wasn’t as convincing as he thought he was. The dip at the base of his throat had reddened and his eye movements were now rapid and unfocused.

  ‘If she has found out, it does give us a motive,’ said Green to Maggie. ‘Finding out her husband’s lied to her all these years, it must’ve sent her nuts. There she is, desperately trying for a baby, and she finds out the man she married is not only an imposter but a killer too. She doesn’t know anything about him! Can you imagine the shock? I’m not sure I’d want a complete stranger knocking me up.’

  Maggie knew what Green was doing. She was trying to rile Bramwell in the hope he’d lose his temper and spill his guts as he defended himself. As she watched him glare at Green, she wondered what Della’s reaction would be to them finding Niall Hargreaves. She had so many questions for him about Helen, but Green had made it clear that finding Eleanor was their priority. The mystery of Helen would have to wait.

  Bramwell clammed up and folded his arms defensively across his chest.

  ‘Your wife accused you of abusing her, which we know isn’t true. But you are guilty of abusing her trust,’ said Green sternly. ‘She’s got a very persuasive mitigating argument to throw at you in court about why she attempted to kill you, so you might want to have a think about the moment she found out you used to be Niall Hargreaves and share it with us. Because I don’t believe you for a second when you say she doesn’t know and neither does DC Neville here. Come on, Maggie, let’s take a break.’ Green got to her feet. ‘We’ll be outside waiting for you to remember. There’s no rush, we’ve got all evening.’

  67

  Della regained consciousness not gradually but with a bang. She awoke, startled, as she was rolled out of a blanket into the boot of a car. She fell awkwardly on her right shoulder but there was nothing she could do to break her fall as her wrists were bound behind her back with some kind of plastic restraint that scraped viciously against her skin when she tried to pull her hands free. Her ankles were also tethered.

  Her panic accelerating with every passing second, she tried to scream but her mouth was sealed shut with tape. Her throat still burned from the gin. Fearing she might pass out again, she made herself stop and take a few raggedy breaths through her nose and as she did she saw the boot lid had been left open a few inches. Squinting through the gap and the driving rain she spotted the rear of a car that belonged to one of the homeowners who lived opposite Sadie: there was a yellow ‘Grandchild on Board’ sign fixed inside the back window.

  Della’s heart leapt – she was still in Frobisher Road. Surely someone must’ve seen her being put in the car? Audrey never missed a trick – had she not seen?

  Making as much noise as the tape across her mouth would allow, Della tried to roll herself up into a sitting position, using her elbow as a prop, but as she raised her head it hit the inside of the boot lid. Her skull throbbed painfully, like she’d been struck down by the worst migraine imaginable.

  Trying to ignore the pain, she raised her head again, slowly this time, to see if she could lift the boot lid open. She was almost there when it was yanked up and something soft but heavy landed on top of her, sending her crashing backwards and covering her face so she couldn’t see.

  ‘You need to budge over, Della. Make room for another one,’ hissed Gillian, glancing over her shoulder as she pulled another blanket out of the boot. ‘It’s a good job you’re both so small and skinny. It’s like carrying children.
’

  Before Della could react, whatever was pinning her to the floor was rolled off her. She managed to turn her head far enough around to see a young girl squashed into the boot next to her. She was stunned to see it was the Mockingbird girl from the hospital. The girl’s skin was ashen and her lips tinged blue.

  Oh God, she’s dead.

  Della tried to scream but it was too late: Gillian had slammed the boot lid shut. Moments later the engine started and the car pulled away from the kerb. At first she could track their journey, sensing the left turn out of Frobisher Road towards Hampden Way, the right swing onto the London Road towards the town centre. Then they were traversing roundabouts and the momentum of being swung around made her lose her bearings completely.

  She could feel the girl’s body rammed in next to her but it was too dark to see her. Della tried to wipe her mouth on the side of the boot next to her, hoping that a corner of the tape might catch and lift so she could work it off. But two minutes of wiping her head from side to side told her it wasn’t going to budge. As terror clawed at her insides, she began to cry. What did Gillian want from them?

  The car veered round a corner then gained speed. Suddenly Della heard a moan, small, low and pitiful. The girl was alive. Della tried to call out to her but her voice was muffled by the masking tape and she could only make a moaning noise too. But there was another moan in response and Della bumped her body against the girl’s to indicate she was awake. Then she heard a voice.

  ‘Help me.’

  Della cried with relief as she frantically butted against the girl again. She felt fingers claw their way up her front, groping across her face until they reached her mouth. Then, in the darkness, the girl picked at the tape until it came loose. With one yank she pulled it off and Della ignored the smarting pain as she gratefully gulped in mouthfuls of air.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she managed to say.

  ‘My head hurts,’ the girl sobbed.

  ‘You’re the girl from the hospital. What’s your name?’

  ‘It’s Bea. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.’ She rested her head against Della’s shoulder.

  ‘Bea, you need to stay awake,’ shouted Della, fearing she was unconscious again. The girl’s hair felt matted and wet against her face. ‘Bea! Wake up,’ she ordered.

  To her relief Bea spoke again, but her voice was almost inaudible. ‘I’m awake,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know you’re scared, Bea. I am too. But we have to be brave, okay?’

  She felt Bea nod.

  ‘Can you untie my wrists?’ She heaved herself onto her side to give Bea access to her hands behind her back but it was impossible. They were secured with plastic cable ties and scissors or a knife was needed to cut through them. Bea soon complained her fingers were red raw from trying to pull them apart.

  ‘Stop now, you’re hurting yourself,’ said Della. ‘We’ll find another way to undo them. It’s going to be okay.’ She tried to sound reassuring but she was both terrified and certain they were going to die.

  ‘I want to go home,’ Bea cried.

  Della wriggled back round so she was facing Bea, who leaned against her. As they lay like that for a few moments Della could make out the sound of rain pelting against the boot over the noise of the engine.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ said Bea.

  ‘Look, I don’t know who that woman is or why she’s taken us but this isn’t your fault or mine.’

  ‘I’ve seen her before, at—’

  The rest of Bea’s sentence dissolved into a scream as the car shot off the road and the terrain changed from smooth to uneven. The car pitched and skidded and Bea cried as she clung to Della. Then, with no warning, the vehicle screeched to a halt. The abrupt braking caused the muscles in Della’s neck to pull violently.

  Quivering with fear, they heard a door open and close, then shuffling footsteps. The boot lid was raised and a torch beam shone directly into their faces, dazzling them both.

  ‘You’re both awake? Oh good. That makes it easier. It’s time to go for a walk.’

  68

  ‘I need a fag break,’ said DI Green once they were outside Bramwell’s room. ‘Do you smoke?’

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘Can you wait here while I nip outside then? If he asks for us before I get back, text me.’

  Maggie was doubtful he was going to tell them the truth and said so.

  ‘I understand why he wanted to change his name after coming out of prison, but if he really hasn’t told Eleanor it makes him a seasoned liar,’ she said. ‘He’ll have spent years pretending to her that he’s someone he’s not, which means he would’ve had to lie about his background, where he went to school, even his parents. You can only keep up that kind of pretence if you’re good at fabricating the truth.’

  ‘I think she does know and it’s us he’s lying to. Let’s be patient and we’ll get it out of him. Right, I’ll be back in a mo.’

  As Green disappeared out of the ward, Maggie checked her phone for messages. She had a missed call from Renshaw and a voicemail message, which she played back. Sounding upbeat, Renshaw had rung to say the fourth victim of the Con Couple, the one attacked before Sadie, had come forward to say a detail had come back to her. When the male accomplice had slapped her and pushed her to the ground, causing her to fracture her wrist, the girl had got upset and told him not to hurt her. The victim was now convinced the girl had said his name and that it was something like Sam or possibly Sean. She was adamant it definitely began with an S. It wasn’t a huge amount to go on but it was the biggest breakthrough they’d had so far. They were going to release the detail to the media in the morning in the hope someone would come forward with his full name.

  ‘But I’ve got even better news than that,’ Renshaw’s message continued. ‘The hospital has checked the CCTV from HDU and they’ve got footage of a woman who very much resembles Eleanor Bramwell ducking in and out of Sadie’s ward prior to her death. The images are being enhanced to ensure a proper identification and forensics should be comparing fingerprints lifted from her house in Trenton to those found on the syringe used to administer Sadie’s pain relief. They’re also going to crossmatch it with the handprint found on the hallway wall at Sadie’s house. Good call, Maggie. That nurse and doctor almost certainly owe you their jobs.’

  Maggie was thrilled. When the voicemail ended, she decided to call Renshaw back and tell her about Bramwell being Niall Hargreaves. After that she might just have time to call Craig like she’d promised Lou she would. She didn’t want to go home without some kind of update for her sister.

  She was still thinking about Lou as she dialled Renshaw’s number and it didn’t register at first that a man had answered.

  ‘Anna’s phone.’

  For a second Maggie was rendered speechless.

  ‘Can I speak to DS Renshaw please,’ she managed to ask.

  There was a lengthy pause.

  ‘Is this to do with work?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a colleague, DC Neville. I need to speak to her urgently.’

  The man’s voice became muted, as though he’d put his hand over the receiver, but Maggie still heard him say, ‘Darling, it’s a work call.’

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The man who had just called Renshaw ‘darling’ was categorically not Will Umpire.

  Renshaw came on the line. ‘This had better be good. We were about to have dinner.’

  ‘Sorry, you’re going to have to stick it back in the oven,’ said Maggie, grinning with relief.

  ‘Shit. What is it?’

  ‘There’s been a development. Remember the picture I told you about, the photo of Della’s mum, Helen, at the Mansell Show, the one of her sitting with all those people who were in that accident?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘The bloke sitting next to her in the picture is Eleanor Bramwell’s husband, only back then he was called Niall Hargreaves.’

  Renshaw let out a bark of astonishmen
t.

  ‘Are you winding me up?’

  ‘No. He changed his name to Simon Bramwell five years after the crash.’

  ‘Bloody hell. How did you work out it was him?’

  ‘DI Green asked me up to Trenton and I saw Bramwell’s picture in the briefing room and realized he and Niall were the same person. I hadn’t actually seen a picture of Bramwell until then.’

  ‘Did he have something to do with Helen leaving town? Is that why his wife went after Sadie?’

  ‘He clammed up when we started asking about them, but he did claim Eleanor doesn’t know about his name change or about him being in prison. He says he’s been lying to her all this time. As far as motives go, he could be Della’s dad and Helen lied to her family about having a one-night stand with another bloke called Andy. Or maybe she slept with both Niall and Andy and didn’t know which one the dad was. Eleanor might’ve been upset to discover Della existed and took it out on Sadie.’

  ‘What, she rowed with her and lost control?’

  ‘No, I think the attack was premeditated. I mean, she drugged her husband, pretended to be a reporter to gain access to Sadie’s house, wore a wig to disguise herself – her actions weren’t spur-of-the-moment.’

  ‘You have to get Bramwell to talk,’ Renshaw urged. ‘He must know exactly why Eleanor wanted to silence Sadie. Have you spoken to Della?’

  ‘I’ve tried calling her but her phone’s switched off. I think she’s at Sadie’s, sorting out the house.’

  ‘I’ll send a car round to pick her up. With Eleanor still unaccounted for, we need to make sure she’s safe. Update me when you’ve spoken to Bramwell again.’

  Renshaw said goodbye and hung up. Maggie sent Green a text to say it looked like Eleanor was also behind Sadie’s overdose in HDU and they needed to resume questioning Bramwell immediately, then bowled back into his room.