Cath Staincliffe - Blue Murder

‘You live just round the corner,’ Richard pointed out, ‘handy for popping in when Mr Tulley’s at school?’

He frowned and then balked at the insinuation. ‘No, no I never.’

The solicitor intervened. ‘Mr Hendrix has answered your question, he does not know Lesley Tulley.’

‘Even though he’s carrying round a pornographic film with her in the starring role?’ Janine turned back to Dean, his arms were trembling slightly. His eyes bloodshot. ‘Let me tell you how I see it, Dean, then you can put me right. Mrs Tulley is a very attractive woman, perhaps she was lonely.’

‘I’ve got a girlfriend, I only go with her.’

‘What work do you do?’ Richard asked.

The shift disconcerted him. He tucked his hair behind his ear, pulled on a strand.

‘Freelance.’

‘Freelance what?’

‘Odd jobs. Backstage at the Lowry now and then, GMEX. Bit of driving.’

‘Pay well?’ he continued.

‘Not really.’

Richard studied him. ‘So it might be quite tempting if someone offered you a sizeable amount of money for your services.’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’

Janine leant forward. ‘Matthew Tulley was attacked with a knife and bled to death on Saturday. Where were you, Dean, when we came to call? Missing, in hiding. A witness saw you leaving the scene. Forensic evidence proves you were there too. A knife was found in your possession.’

Richard glanced at her. Careful now. They knew Dean’s knife hadn’t been used on the victim, it was a flick knife. Janine brazened it out, didn’t hurt to let Dean think they had him every which way.

‘You can see how someone might think you were helping her out, perhaps getting rewarded for your pains. Maybe you’d watched all the videos? Strong stuff. Can be addictive, can’t it?’

‘That’s enough,’ said the solicitor, ‘these allegations…’

‘It wasn’t me, I didn’t kill him,’ Dean leaned forward, closer to Janine, his mouth stretching wide with emotion.

‘But you’ve done it before.’ Richard said.

‘Yes. Oh, yes. Bit of a fight, out comes the knife.’

Dean was becoming more agitated. ‘It wasn’t the same!’

‘Virtually identical.’ Richard remained calm but insistent.

‘Not the same, not the same,’ the lad rocked back and forth. Tears started in his eyes. ‘You don’t know.’

‘Tell me Dean.’ Janine said. ‘You get a taste for it? Give you a buzz?’

He gasped. ‘No, no!’ His breath was jerky, he kept rocking, his face wild. ‘Last time, last time…’

‘Last time what?’ She pressed him.

‘Last time, Williams-’ He couldn’t say it, he stared at Janine, on the brink.

‘He struggle more?’

Dean broke. ‘He… raped… me!’ He drew it out like a howl of pain, face raised to the ceiling, the tendons in his neck standing out.

Janine’s heart stuttered. The poor bloody lad. She put her face in her hands.

Richard stopped the tape.

‘I’m sorry, Dean.’ Janine said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. We’ll get you a drink. You have a break.’

She thought of Michael then, if ever he… if any of her kids had to carry that violation with them. Stop it. She pushed back her chair. Richard looked as shaken as she was. They all needed a break.

They took fifteen minutes in Janine’s office.

Janine sat with her feet up, her shoulders ached, she rubbed at them trying to release the tension. A good soak, that’s what she needed. Later, she promised herself.

Richard was pacing about, still disturbed by Dean’s story. ‘Poor bastard.’

‘He never spoke about it, never even used it in his defence, there was nothing in any of the trial reports, simply got put down to a fight. Too ashamed. Deep down he probably blames himself. Something he said, something he did.’ She swung her feet down. ‘I reckon he’ll give us the real story once he’s calmed down. Deaking should be ready now. Shall we?’

Mr Deaking sat rigidly upright his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He left the talking to his solicitor. ‘My client would like to make a statement. He admits to taking part in the sex sessions with Mrs Tulley, which were filmed by her husband, but he strenuously denies the charge of attempted murder. He was simply trying to find out if Mrs Tulley knew where the tape was.’

‘By choking the life out of her?’ Janine raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so.’

The canteen was busy, coppers coming and going, banter between them and the staff serving. Janine and Richard had got a corner table. Janine, feeling depleted of energy, had gone for a hot meal: lamb hot-pot and braised red cabbage. Something to keep her reserves up for the ordeal ahead. Interviewing Lesley Tulley. Shap had joined them, avid for news about Deaking.

‘They’re always so normal, aren’t they, the Deakings of this world. All that respectability and a shed full of porn.’ Janine shook her head. ‘He buys a tape from one of his suppliers and who’s on it? Lesley, his deputy’s wife. But he doesn’t do anything yet – he waits until Tulley’s in trouble.’

Shap listened, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Richard picked up the story. ‘Tulley keeps his job after the assault on Ferdie Gibson because Deaking backs him to the hilt, in return for…’

‘… a piece of the action.’ Janine said.

Shap fiddled with his lighter. ‘Was he really trying to kill her?’

Janine shrugged. ‘He lost it. He was scared she’d talk, give us the tapes. She wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t take his calls. When Lesley said she didn’t know where the video was he didn’t believe her. Thought he could throttle it out of her.’ She put her empty plate on the tray. ‘Whatever he gets he’ll never pick up another piece of chalk again.’

She drained her cup and grimaced at the rank taste. ‘They ought to add that to the dangerous substances register.’

She stood up. Richard looked up. Got to his feet. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ She led the way.

It was hard to banish the brutal video images from her mind as she sat opposite Lesley Tulley again.

‘Lesley, when we spoke earlier I asked you about this man. I am showing Mrs Tulley a photograph of Mr Ronald Prosser.’

A rapid blink.

‘You denied knowing him.’

‘I don’t know him.’

‘Are you sure? You’ve never met him?’

‘No,’ she said curtly.

‘He’s just come out of prison. Serving time for drug offences but there were some lesser charges for pornography. That’s how Matthew knew him, isn’t it Lesley?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘And Mr Deaking. We know all about it now.’

Lesley looked scared, her eyes rounder but she said nothing.

‘We’ve got this.’

Janine glanced at Richard who slid the videotape in its evidence bag across the table and said. ‘I am showing Mrs Tulley a videocassette, item 439.’ Lesley sat unmoving.

Janine spoke gently. ‘Lesley, we’ve watched the film.’

‘Films, videos,’ she tossed her head dismissively, ‘it’s crazy.’

‘It’s hard to watch. Unbearable. The violence. We know what Matthew made you do.’ She lowered her voice further, creating the intimacy she required. ‘What Mr Deaking did. It changes everything.’ She could sense the other woman fighting to resist the empathy, avoiding eye contact, one corner of her mouth twitching. ‘You can tell us now, Lesley.’

‘I haven’t got anything to say,’ quietly.

‘What about Dean Hendrix?’ Richard said.

‘Pardon?’

‘What about Dean Hendrix? How well do you know him?’

‘I don’t.’ She looked at Janine. ‘You said you’d arrested him.’