Page 102 of Deep Blue Lies
I stare at her again, my own words causing me to evaluate her anew. Reassess the person I’ve known longer than any other on this earth. This is what evil looks like. Before she speaks again, her tongue appears for just a moment. I’m surprised it’s not forked.
“And then what happened, in Imogen’s little fairy tale?”
I pause, before going on. If I’d hoped that being confronted with this would cause her to collapse and confess, begging for myforgiveness, I was wrong. But I didn’t really think that was how it would go.
“You tell me. You did it.”
She scoffs at the idea, then brushes a strand of her blonde hair from her forehead. “OK, I’ll play. Since I know that Jason Wright tragically murdered Mandy Paul and then shot himself, I imagine Imogen’s story would proceed along those lines. Unless she really goes off the rails at that point?” She lifts her shoulders, making it a question.
I just wait.
“So I imagine she says I waited for Jason, and then, somehow already knowing he had a gun hidden in his room – which of course I couldn’t know – I shot him with it, and made the whole think look like a murder-suicide?”
“You did know he had a gun. You wrote about it in your diary.”
This unsettles her, not much, but a bit. The expression that passes across her face is self-questioning, checking, dark and scary, but it’s gone as fast as it arrives.
“If I did it’s only because it was a rumour flying around the hotel. I certainly didn’t know where it would have been hidden.”
“Your diary says the cleaners discovered it hidden under the mattress. They put it back there. So you knew exactly where to look.”
“Oh, come on, Ava. I can’t remember what I wrote…” She stops, realising that not remembering now doesn’t help her if it proves she knew back then. “It’s a fantasy, Ava. A delusional fantasy. Entertaining, but not a reason to drag me all the way out here.”
“I’ve sent Imogen’s confession to the police. They’re on their way here. Right now.”
Mum turns back to me, her eyes level, intense, probing. She stays like that a long while.
“I very much doubt that, Ava.”
Her certainty shakes me. “Why not?”
“Because they won’t believe it. Because the case was closed and shelved a long time ago. But most of all, because it’s not true.”
“Imogen’s just been murdered. Even if it wasn’t you at the hospital, someone attacked her on the beach. That case is open.”
Her lips twitch as she acknowledges this. “Even so.”
“I’m your daughter. If I tell them I believe Imogen, that will count for something.”
She smiles now, beatific. “A little, perhaps. They might want to speak to me. But I’ll be able to convince them. Of thetruth. After all, you’ve had a shock, you’ve discovered you’re adopted. And maybe I’ll even be able to convinceyouin the end, when we get home, away from this place, which I will admit does invoke a certain ghostly atmosphere.”
I shake my head. “I’m not coming home with you. You’re a killer.”
“Are you recording this, Ava?” she answers at once. “Is this how this is supposed to work? You tell me all this, in the hope I’ll say something incriminating, and then you can take it to the police, because as we both know, the testimony of a known drug addict like Imogen Grant is utterly worthless. And that’s if there even is anything on that pen drive.” She stops, her eyes probing into mine again, trying to drag my secrets from me. I don’t say anything, but I can’t help but swallow.
“Show me your phone,” she asks.
I don’t move.
“Ava,your phone? You must have it, I’ve never seen you without it.”
Slowly I reach into the pocket of my shorts. The truth is, she surprised me by being here so early, I didn’t even have time to start the recording. I hold it up, showing her the screen.
“Why don’t you hand it over?”
I try to resist, to defy her, but I feel my hand disobeying me. I lay the phone on the counter top and slide it over towards her. She picks it up, inspects it at once. It’s not recording, but she doesn’t seem satisfied by that. She presses the power button untilthe option comes up to switch it off completely. She’s silent until the screen goes black, the buttons unresponsive. She looks at me, gives a sad little laugh.
“Imogen was a drug addict, Ava. A junkie. I know because I was the one supplying her.” My eyes flick up from my phone, like I’m willing it to magically still be on and recording. “Legally, I should add, from the pharmacy. But I have the records, Ava.” She pauses, her eyes going back to the pen drive that I’m still gripping tightly. “Whatever you have on there, it’s not what you believe it is, and the police won’t fall for it. Not for long. Not when I show them the dosage she was on.”
