Peter Robinson: Cold Is The Grave

“Why?”

“Because I was the only one who knew the truth . The joke was on them, on someone else, for a change, not on me.”

“What about Barry Clough and Emily’s father?”

“That was just a bonus. I know a young reporter. It was a big story, probably made his career. I just gave him one of those photos of Emily all dressed up for a party and I told him that she was fucking Barry Clough and her father was a chief constable. He was off to Yorkshire like a shot. Did the rest of the footwork himself.”

“What about Barry Clough, after Emily had left? Did you tell him who she was, where she lived, who her father was?”

“Yes. I thought it would probably interest him. He struck me as the kind of man who liked to own others. I just thought it would be interesting to put the two of them together when neither of them knew how close they really were.”

“So he doesn’t know that you’re his daughter or that Emily’s your half-sister?”

“Of course not. It wasn’t time to go that far yet.”

“Again, why?”

“They all thought they were so cool, so beautiful, so powerful, so in control. But all the time it was me pulling the strings. Me . They were just running around like headless chickens.”

“And this amused you?”

“Yes. I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not looking to get off on some insanity plea or anything like that. I would like a little recognition for all the work I put in, though.”

“What about Emily? You told her she was your half-sister, didn’t you?”

“I had to, otherwise she would never have trusted me or come to live with me. She’d have thought I was after her or something. This way it made more sense. It was our little secret.”

Banks paused before going on, knowing he had reached a crucial stage. “Ruth, we know you were working for a pharmaceutical company and had access to strychnine. Cocaine’s easy enough to get. Did you give Emily the lethal mixture?”

“It wasn’t meant to be lethal.”

“What did you intend it to do to her?”

“Give her a scare. Give her the jitters. I didn’t mean for it to kill her. Honest. I’m not a murderer.”

“What are you, then?”

Ruth tugged at a frayed edge on her sweatshirt. “Maybe I’ve got some problems. People don’t like me. But I’m not a murderer.” There were tears in her eyes.

“All right, Ruth. What happened?”

“We’d talked on the telephone a few times and she kept saying she was off the stuff. First, I just wanted to see if I could get her back on again. I mean, people say all sorts of things, don’t they, like they’ve given up smoking, but if you offer them a cigarette, if you put just a little temptation their way…”

“And that’s what you did?”

“Yes. Dangled a carrot. Well, a gram of coke, actually. She could probably have scored some up north if she’d asked around, but that was a bit too close to her father’s territory. I mean, you never know if your dealer is an undercover cop, do you? I even offered to deliver it. Said I had to visit some relatives in Durham and I’d stop by on the way.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she’d ring me back. I knew she was thinking seriously about it. Anyway, the day before, I was working late… she phoned me at work on some lad’s mobile and said she was getting bored and she wouldn’t mind some for the next day. She was going clubbing with some mates. I knew I could get a couple of days off, say I had a cold or something. Anyway, just after I talked to her and said I’d see her the next day, I had to go into the controlled area to do some product coding, and that’s when I got the idea of the strychnine. I didn’t know how much to put in. I’d heard they sometimes used it as a base in some street drugs and it makes your jaw and your neck stiff. I just wanted to give her a scare, that’s all. It was only a little bit. I didn’t think it was enough to kill her, but it might make her twitch a bit in public, maybe even puke and piss herself.”

“That was what you wanted to do to her? Humiliate her in public?”

“It was a start.”

“Even though you wouldn’t be there to witness it?”

“But I’d know , wouldn’t I? Being there would be too dangerous. Don’t you see the point? I mean, I didn’t actually see her doing it, but I knew she was fucking my father. If you have a bit of imagination you can amuse yourself easily enough.”

“It has to be more than that, Ruth,” Annie chipped in.

Ruth looked away. “Why?”

“It just does. Why did you hate Emily so much? What did she ever do to you?”

“She had my life, didn’t she? What should have been mine.”

“Why did you want her to suffer?”

“Because she had it all. She took Craig from me.”

“Craig was never with you that way,” Banks said, picking up on Annie’s rhythm. “He was never your lover.”

Ruth jutted her chin out. “That’s what he says now.”

“Why should he lie?”

“He’s against me. She poisoned him against me.”

“That’s not enough, Ruth,” Annie chimed in again.

Ruth gave her a sharp glance. “What do you want? Blood?”

“No. That seems to be what you wanted. We want some answers.”

“It was all so bloody easy for her. Everything just fell into her lap. Craig. Barry Clough. My own father, for Christ’s sake, was running his hands over her thighs ten minutes after they met.”

“But that was part of your plan, you said,” Annie went on.

“You can’t always arrange things so they don’t hurt you at least just a little bit. She got everything she wanted, just like that.”

“Then why did she want to run away from home, Ruth?”

“Uh? What do you mean?”

“If everything was so perfect in Emily’s life, why did she want to run away from her parents?”

“They wouldn’t let her do what she wanted. They were strict.”

“Like yours?”

“Nowhere near as bad as mine. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then why didn’t you sympathize with her?”

“I did. At first. Then she just… she got everything she wanted. Craig started ignoring me. Even Emily deserted me.”

Banks took over again. “Why did you kill her, Ruth?”

Ruth didn’t know whom to look at. She looked at the squashed fly again. “I didn’t. I didn’t mean to kill her.”

“But you did kill her,” Banks pressed on. “Why?”

Ruth paused and her face seemed to go through the kind of contortions as Emily’s must have when the strychnine hit.

“Why did you kill her, Ruth?” Banks persisted, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Why?”

“Because they took her back!” Ruth blurted out. “After all that happened. After everything she did to them. She broke their hearts and they took her back. She threw me out, but she took her back. They took her back! They took her back!” Ruth started crying, fat tears rolling down her acned cheeks.

There was nothing more to say. Banks called in the uniformed officers to take Ruth back to her cell. Now it was time to charge her and bring on the lawyers.

Banks drove out to the Old Mill that night with a heavy heart. He knew he had to be the one to tell Rosalind what had happened, what Ruth had done, just as he had had to break the news about Emily’s murder, but it wasn’t a task he cherished.

The lights were on in the front room. He parked out front, glancing toward the garage as he pulled up his collar against the wind and rain, and rang the doorbell.

Rosalind answered and invited him in. She was wearing a short skirt and a cashmere jumper. He followed her into the living room. Her legs looked good, and it didn’t seem as if she was wearing any tights. He thought he noticed something different about the smell of the place, but he dismissed it; there were far more serious matters on his mind.