Page 138 of Three Widows

‘I second that.’ Lynch went back to what she was doing. Namely, following up on the list of the SunUp investors after Lei’s discovery. It might be a dead end, but she couldn’t leave the job unfinished.

Frankie Bardon’s name was there too, but that was to be expected, as the dentist was married to Owen. Why wouldn’t he invest in his husband’s business? After fifteen minutes, she shouted at McKeown, ‘I found something. SunUp might have been about to go under. The studio has been making a loss for the last three years. Dalton had paid back some of the investors, but three remain.’

‘Who’s still to be paid?’

‘Well, the husband, Frankie Bardon. Tyler Keating. Opportune that he disappeared, isn’t it?’

‘And the third?’

‘Kathleen Foley.’

* * *

Kathleen picked up the ornaments one by one. Ignoring the heavy bronze figurine, a gift from Madelene, she held one of the Lladró statues in her hand. She opened her fingers and watched as it slipped away and smashed on the floor. She picked up another and did the same. When the floor was littered with broken porcelain, she stomped down on each of the larger pieces until they were nothing more than tiny fragments.

‘Just like my life,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Fragmented.’

She knew exactly when it had all started going wrong. The day she’d met Madelene. The day Amy had arrived, her little hand in that of a social worker.

Money had been tight back then and fostering meant a weekly income. But there was a price to be paid. The change in Helena had been instant. She couldn’t understand why she was no longer the centre of her mother’s universe. Because of that, Kathleen had changed too. Her whole damn life had changed. No matter what she did over the years, she could not bring back the beautiful balance she’d once enjoyed with her daughter. It was like living on a set of scales. Up one day, down the next, and the next and the next. Now that she thought about it, there were very few ups in her life after Amy arrived. She thought she was doing right by sending the girl back to the care system. That hadn’t turned out too well either.

She found the sweeping brush and dustpan in amongst the clutter of her utility room and began the task of clearing up the crushed porcelain.

She was about to put the pieces in the bin when the doorbell shrilled.

* * *

The meditation wasn’t working at all. Too much unwanted information floating around in his head. He needed a shower and he needed to eat, but he didn’t want to do anything.

His energy was off today. He knew why, but he didn’t want to go there. He abandoned the meditation. There were just some things he could not allow to invade his mind. Things he had pushed so far down that you’d need a deep-sea diver to extract them. But he knew they were uncontrollably extricating themselves from their burial site to bring him to his knees.

Maybe a few weeks on a retreat would do the job. Get a sense of balance back into his life. Idly he wandered around the apartment picking up Owen’s discarded clothing. He was so untidy. Usually it didn’t bother Frankie, but today it did. Everything bothered him. As he was shoving the clothes into the washing machine, the doorbell shrieked. All his energy lopped to one side and he almost keeled over.

Whoever was at the door was not here to bring him good news.

86

Standing on the doorstep, Lottie studied Frankie Bardon’s demeanour.

‘Can we come in?’ she asked.

‘If you must,’ he said, his oversized T-shirt clinging to his body.

She noticed the wariness in his expression as he stepped back. She figured he’d been working out and hadn’t yet had a shower.

‘Anywhere we can sit other than the floor?’

‘It is what it is. You can stand if you find it too uncomfortable to sit down,’ he said tetchily.

Gone was the glittering smile, and his tan seemed to have faded. Maybe it was fake. Maybe Frankie Bardon was all fake too.

‘Suit yourself,’ she muttered, wishing there was a chair to rest her bones. Even with a change of clothes from her locker, she felt damp and grubby. ‘Can I start by asking what your movements were since I spoke with you earlier this morning?’

‘I went to Centra for a few bits and pieces. My turn to make dinner. And talking of dinner, time is getting on. I’m making idli and I need to soak the lentils. Hopefully Owen is late home again, or he’ll be crying at me for a takeaway.’

Boyd nudged Lottie. He got it too. Frankie referred to his husband like he was a child.

‘What time did you go to the shop and what time did you return here?’