‘Call me Beth, please,’ she says, because that’s what she’s supposed to say, isn’t it? She clears her throat, can hear Lily and the policewoman next door, playing with wooden building bricks, can see the other detective in the garden, searching. ‘I got back around 1.15 p.m., 1.20 p.m., something like that. I called Marta’s name when I came in, just expected to see her, like usual. But she didn’t answer. I went to look for her, checked on Lily…’
‘She was in bed asleep?’
‘Yes. She still has an afternoon nap… I know she’s probably a little old and I should phase it out but… but anyway, I kept on calling her name, but there was no answer and—’
‘Can you remember what Marta was wearing this morning?’
Beth tries to think but she can’t focus properly. She is silently freaking out.
‘Jeans… grey skinny jeans and a white shirt or vest top maybe… she had a cardigan over the top. Mustard thing, long, and Converse trainers, white ones, although they were more grey – a bit grubby.’ She feels a stab of grief as she describes Marta to the detective, suddenly wondering if she’ll ever see Marta and her quirky dress sense again. The detective is scribbling furiously in his notebook.
‘How tall is Marta? Do you have any recent photographs of her?’
‘Gosh, let me think.’ Gosh. She’s never used that word before, not that she could ever recall. She feels self-conscious, like she is on the outside of herself looking in.
‘She’s tall; around five feet seven or eight, I’d say.’
The detective nods and looks up as the other detective enters the kitchen from the garden.
‘No sign of anything, boss.’
He nods at him.
‘Thanks, Martin.’
He’s turned his attention back to her. ‘Did you notice anything unusual when you returned home Mrs… sorry, Beth? Was anything amiss?’
‘No,’ she says quickly, too quickly maybe. Her paranoia is making her jumpy. ‘Actually yes – yes there was. The baby monitor wasn’t switched on. Marta always switches it on whenever Lily goes down for a nap. It’s a big house and sometimes she gets frightened when she wakes up alone. I thought that was odd. She’s really reliable like that, she wouldn’t forget… and so I went downstairs, called out to her again, a few times. Her car was still in the driveway, still is in the driveway. Her handbag’ – she points to it on the kitchen table – ‘it’s still here, with her keys in it. Her phone doesn’t seem to be here although I rang a dozen times, but it’s switched off. I think maybe she’s taken some of her clothes but I really can’t be sure… she didn’t have many clothes…’ Suddenly she feels like crying. ‘I… I… checked all the rooms, checked the whole house a few times over.’
‘So the baby monitor was off. Anything else struck you as unusual?’
The questioning is making her nervous. Do they suspect something bad has happened to Martha, just like she does?
‘The back doors were open – wide open – but there’s no reason for them to be. The builders aren’t due back for a day or two so it can’t have been them who left them open. Besides, they don’t have keys, and I’m sure they weren’t open when I left the house.’
‘You’re having some work done?’
‘Yes, we’re building a swimming pool. My husband’s firm are doing it. He owns a construction company, Lawler and Co. We hope to have it ready in time for the summer. Lily loves swimming…’
The detective nods and she notices his eyes, a greyish blue, similar in colour to his. She finds this momentarily reassuring.
Where the bloody hell was Evan?
‘So the doors were open? Had anything been taken, anything stolen?’
‘Nothing. I’ve checked the house.’
‘Jewellery? Paintings, anything of value?’
‘No. Nothing’s been touched and the lock hasn’t been smashed.’
‘OK. So the doors were open, and you went outside?’
‘Yes. I looked out onto the garden, couldn’t see Marta, but then something on the lawn caught my eye so I went outside and found her scarf on the grass, just by the pond.’
She points to it on the table, realising that it now has her DNA all over it. She made to pick it up again to show him.
‘No! Please don’t touch it, Beth.’
She snatches her hand back in alarm.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologises. ‘Forensics are on their way and we need to make sure there’s no contamination. We’ll need to take all of Marta’s personal belongings, her handbag, phone, maybe her toothbrush…’
‘Her toothbrush?’
‘Yes, for DNA purposes. We’ll have to take her car too. And the scarf, obviously.’
Beth feels her adrenalin spike.
‘I’m assuming Marta has a passport? Have you checked to see if it’s missing?’
‘I didn’t think to; I wouldn’t even know where to look. I’m sorry.’
He holds his hand up. ‘No, no, please… this is just standard procedure, you understand? We need to try and establish if Marta left of her own volition or if… or if other factors were involved.’
Beth nods sagely. ‘Other factors’ doesn’t sound good.
‘Did she seem OK when you left for the gym this morning – what time was that again? Did she seem agitated, or upset?’
‘No, not at all. She seemed her usual happy self.’ Beth shrugs. ‘Just normal Marta.’
He asks her again what time she had left for the gym. Is he trying to trip her up?
‘I left around 11.30ish, or thereabouts. Now she’s been forced to lie twice. Her eyes follow his pen as he writes in his notebook, her guts churning.
‘Can you think of any reason why Marta would just suddenly up and leave, Beth? Did she have a boyfriend, any relationship or family problems? Did she have any issues with alcohol or drugs, any illnesses or debts that you know of? Could there have been an emergency that might have forced her to leave the house suddenly? Were the two of you close? Would she have confided in you if she had a problem?’
Questions. All these questions are making her head spin.
Before she can answer, Evan blusters into the kitchen – finally.
‘I came as quickly as I could, darling,’ he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She feels herself flinch. He never calls her ‘darling’. She had hoped his presence might’ve made her feel a little better, the familiarity of him giving her a modicum of comfort, but it has the opposite effect. He introduces himself to the detectives, shakes both their hands.
‘Evan Lawler, pleased to meet you.’
‘Likewise, Mr Lawler,’ the detective says.
‘Tell me what’s happened.’ Evan throws his keys onto the table and stands behind her, squeezing her shoulders. She feels sick.
‘Marta’s missing. She’s just vanished.’ She can feel herself hyperventilating as she wills her husband to stop rubbing her shoulders, something else he never normally does. Please don’t touch me.
‘I’m sure there’s an explanation, Detective,’ Evan says in a measured tone. ‘Marta’s not the type to just up and leave without good reason.’