CLOVE: ‘So was he ruled out of inquiries after that, given that he doesn’t seem to have been mentioned anywhere in the press or in the disclosure documents sent to Nicole’s lawyer?’
ELIZABETH PATTEN: ‘The only way I can explain that is if his alibis checked out and I’m pretty sure they did. And presumably nothing came up subsequently to warrant talking to him again.’
‘There’s not much else,’ Clove told them, when the playback ended. ‘She’s going to try and track down Pete Taylor for us –apparently poor Ruby died in a car accident a few years ago, but Lizzie Patten thinks Pete’s working as a security guard for a storage company in Hull these days. She’ll get back to me if anything else useful comes to mind. Oh, something she mentioned before I left was that they checked all the landline records at the time – Nicole didn’t have a mobile, which I guess wasn’t unusual in 2005. Apparently the only person phoned from number 42 that day was Maeve’s sister and the 999 call obvs.’
Cristy glanced at Connor as he said, ‘Kind of chimes with what Nicole told us.’
‘So, how did it go with her?’ Clove urged.
Wryly, Cristy said, ‘Where to start with that? The big takeaway is that Meier regularly visited her in prison, and there’s a small chance he might know where the twins are or at least what happened to them. We’ll play what we have for you when we’re back at the office. Where are you now?’
‘Probably about halfway between Manchester Piccadilly and Bristol Temple Meads. Train’s not due in ’til seven. Will you still be there?’
‘Maybe not, so let’s meet early in the morning. Sounds as though we could be making some breakthroughs, but I’m still not sure where any of them are leading, although ultimately, hopefully to Lauren Hawkes and/or Claude Meier.’
‘Not to mention to the truth,’ Connor added.
Cristy turned to him. ‘That too,’ she agreed, and probably because her conscience wasn’t clear, she couldn’t be sure whether he was simply referring to the case or if it had been a deliberate dig at her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Cristy was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what had happened the night before when she’d spoken to David on the phone. The tightness of apprehension inside her was enough to confirm that it hadn’t gone well. She was aware that they’d snapped at one another over something to do with her never listening, being too distracted to consider what might be going on in anyone else’s world. They’d even raised their voices at one point – well, she had, she couldn’t be certain now if he had, only that he’d ended up telling her he was ringing off at which point he’d done just that right in the middle of whatever she’d been saying.
She’d been so angry at the time that she’d sent a text saying:This long distance thing clearly doesn’t work for either of us, so maybe time to rethink.
Groaning aloud, she turned her face into the pillow trying to decide whether to call him now to apologize, or allow him more time to calm down. If she knew what she was supposed to be apologizing for she might have an answer for that. What the hell had she actually said to make him so angry? This was assuming it was her fault, but maybe he’d triggered it in some way … Hadn’t he said something about not having the time to keep going over and over Kinsley’s offer with her?
‘Well, excuse me bothering you with my issues,’ she’d snapped furiously. She remembered saying that, and he’d hit back with,
‘If I thought you had time for mine I’d try changing the subject.’ At which point she’d gone off about the privileged life he led over there in Guernsey with his perfect home and perfect family …
Was that when he’d hung up on her? Maybe, but she wasn’t certain about that, and what an absolute shrew she must have sounded anyway.
Why the hell couldn’t she remember all the vital details? It wasn’t as if she’d had that much to drink, a couple of glasses, no more, and she hadn’t been aware of feeling on edge before ringing him.
The trouble was these surges of mostly irrational temper kept sneaking up on her lately, along with the hot flushes and night sweats that had forced her up twice during the early hours to change the sheets and take a shower. If it didn’t sound like such a lame excuse she might message him now to explain what was happening to her, but even the thought of it was making her feel ill.
Reaching for her phone she braced herself as she checked to see if he’d responded to her last text, all the time hoping she hadn’t sent any others that she’d somehow forgotten about. She hadn’t, thank God, but nor had he replied to her childish parting shot.
She closed her eyes as a wave of shameful emotion came over her. Just please don’t let him be taking it seriously, because the very last thing she wanted was to lose him.
Deciding to try and make light of her ridiculous message, she tapped out another saying,I’ve had a rethink and everything about you – us – works for me.She read it several times, erased it and sent one that said, quite simply,I’m really sorry. Please let me know when is a good time to talk. ILY, Cx
By the time she got to the office she still hadn’t received a reply.
‘OK, so here we go on our mysterious Swiss guy,’ Jacks announced as soon as everyone was at their desks and ready to receive. ‘Recording, by the way.’
JACKS: ‘Jean-Claude Meier, born 29th November 1978 – this makes him forty-six today – second son of Elias and Maria Meier, winegrowers from Lavaux – a UNESCO-listed region along the shores of Lake Geneva – thought I’d throw that in as a spot of scene-setting. Maternal grandmother married a Welshman later in life – might seem insignificant now, but we’ll come back to it.
‘Jean-Claude studied at the local school – they’re all brilliant in Switzerland, so no need to go private – then went on to the Changins School of Viticulture and Oenology, before dropping out and enrolling at the University of Geneva to study psychology, with a focus on distorted beliefs through brainwashing. A really interesting reason as to why he changed courses … Not confirmed, but makes sense to me.
‘Turns out his parents were members of theOrdre du Temple Solaire –excuse my French. For those who don’t speak it, it means the Solar Temple. And for those who’ve never heard of it, it was a secret society back in the Nineties, claiming to be a continuation of the Knights Templar and other stuff that we don’t need to get into here. It became famous –infamous– when it orchestrated a bunch of murders and suicides on two communes in Switzerland. Jean-Claude’s parents belonged to one of them.’
CRISTY: ‘You mean they were cult members who … what … ?’
JACKS: ‘Whether they were killed, or took their own lives, I can’t say, but it’s how they came to their end. Jean-Claude would have been eighteen at the time –a traumatic experience for a son at any age, but I’m guessing it’s what could have driven him to study psychology instead of viticulture things.’
Cristy looked around the office sensing that the cult theory was gaining some traction for them all. However it appeared no one had anything to say at this point – including Honey, who’d rearranged her schedule this morning to be able to join them.
