Cath Staincliffe - Blue Murder

‘Dean is being very helpful.’ Richard said. ‘He gave us the tape.’

Lesley looked blank.

Janine spoke up. ‘Perhaps you needed a friend, someone to share your troubles with? Or a lover?’

‘No. I don’t even know who he is.’

‘The knife we recovered,’ said Richard, ‘the murder weapon, it turned up in town on Saturday morning.’

She remained unspeaking.

Janine sat back and regarded her. Began afresh. ‘I’ll tell you what I think happened. You followed Matthew to the allotments. You had the knife. You hurt him, badly.’

‘Don’t.’

‘You went home. You’d blood on your hands, on your clothes-’

‘No, stop it, it’s not true, I loved Matthew.’ The solicitor signalled to Lesley to keep quiet.

‘You cleaned up, put your clothes in the machine.’

‘No!’

‘You know we are searching your property now?’

Her chin went up, she stared at Janine with defiance.

‘You took the knife with you and drove to town.

You got hold of someone else’s parking ticket to try and give yourself an alibi.’

Lesley opened her mouth; lies, her face said, outrage burning spots of colour on her cheeks. ‘It’s not true. I can’t explain the ticket. The clock on the machine-’

‘We have CCTV footage,’ Richard said flatly. ‘How did you get to the Triangle?’

‘Through Millennium Gardens.’

‘Did you leave anything in a litterbin in Millennium Gardens?’ he asked her.

‘A sandwich wrapper.’ She was indignant. ‘I didn’t kill Matthew. You can’t do this to me.’

‘Perhaps you had some help?’ Janine said. ‘Did Dean come with you to confront Matthew? Was he there in case you couldn’t go through with it? Or did you send Dean to get rid of the knife?’

‘This is completely crazy. I don’t know Dean,’ she shouted.

‘Perhaps Dean had seen the videos? Seen some of the terrible things you had to suffer.’

Lesley covered her mouth with her hands. Tears splashed from her eyes.

‘How long had it been going on? Months? Years? Did Matthew make you watch the tapes with him?’

‘I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do it. I didn’t.’ She collapsed, her shoulders heaving, her words drenched in tears.

The solicitor leant forward to insist on a break but Janine pre-empted this by holding her hands up in surrender pose.

When Janine went into her office she was startled to find The Lemon lurking there. He was standing at the far wall, looking out through the glass partition. ‘Your update?’

‘Yessir. I’m sorry, there have been a lot of developments-’

‘Which I expect to hear about from you, not from rumours flying round the office.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Gossip about serial killers and a drugs connection and the Tulley woman hiring an assassin. You nearly had her corpse on your hands too? And you’re digging up the garden at the house?’ His words laced with derision.

‘I’m confident that the search at the house will turn up the missing clothes. We’ve now got her involved in the production of pornographic material.’

‘Hardly a motive.’

‘Not just blue movies, sir. The woman is being tortured while her husband films it. Deaking, the Head, was an active player – he tried to silence Mrs Tulley.’

He took this in. ‘And the serial offender – Dean Hendrix?’

‘I’m going back in to him now. He’s beginning to open up, sir. If he was in on it he’ll own up.’

‘If you don’t find these missing clothes then you’ve nothing, zero.’

‘The attempt to create an alibi-’

‘Circumstantial, Janine. CPS won’t wear it.’

‘Then I’ll get them to talk. Secure a confession.’

He turned to face her, questioning her confidence.

She smiled. She could do it. She knew she could. ‘Communication skills, sir. I’ve done the course.’

The lad looked wasted, but he’d been offered drinks and he’d been seen by a doctor again. She didn’t want to end up accused of interviewing him under duress so she had taken the precaution. She decided to begin with her questions about the tape, seeing as Dean had been happy telling them about that.

‘You had prearranged to meet Matthew Tulley at his allotment. Did you usually meet there?’

‘Yes.’

‘You never went to the house?’

‘No.’

‘And you would take the tapes he gave you and bring back an edited version?’

‘Yes.’

‘You were there on Saturday morning,’ Richard said, ‘bringing him a completed tape.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you ever meet with Lesley Tulley?’ Janine said.

‘No.’

‘Did you conspire to kill Matthew Tulley?’

‘You don’t have to be the one holding the knife to be charged with the crime,’ she told him. ‘Murder, Dean, it doesn’t get any heavier. And you are up to your neck in it. I’ve got you at the scene and you have previous form for an almost identical attack.’ She sat forward, spoke with intensity ‘You’ve got a porno film of the dead man’s wife and you do a runner. Now why shouldn’t I charge you with murder?’

‘Because he was already dead when I went there,’ he shouted in desperation.

Janine let a long breath out. Yes, this she believed. Richard stretched his fingers. Dean had closed his eyes.

‘What time was this?’

‘Half-ten, near enough.’

‘How did you know he was dead?’

‘You just know, he wasn’t moving and there was blood on the ground. I tried to turn him, I saw, you know-’ he wiped his hands on his chest, his face anxious.

‘Where was he, exactly?’ Richard said.

‘He was lying, on his front, by the shed. Sort of half-in and half-out.’

‘Why didn’t you call us, Dean?’ Janine asked.

‘I freaked. It was like before. The same-’ Revulsion twisted his features. ‘People would fit me up for it, my record. You all thought it was me, well didn’t you?’

‘Your heading for the hills didn’t exactly help.’

‘Did you see anything else at the scene?’

‘No.

‘The knife?’ Richard checked.

‘Anyone in the vicinity? Think carefully,’ she said.

He shook his head.

‘And you washed your hands – at the tap.’

He nodded.

Janine studied him, shook her head very slowly. If he’d only come to them then, told them. There was no trust, he had no faith in the forces of law and order. The dance he’d led them.

‘I think you’d better make a statement now, Dean. We’ll send someone in to write it down.’

He put his head in his hands.

‘And don’t leave anything out.’

Janine looked eagerly at Shap for news from the search but he shook his head.

‘No clothes yet. But they have found a hiding place in the fireplace in his study.’

‘And?’

‘Empty.’

Janine turned to Richard. ‘We haven’t enough to hold her.’

‘Send her home?’

‘One more shot, if we turn up something at Ashgrove,’ Janine said.

‘The solicitor’s asked for a longer break,’ Richard looked at his watch.

They couldn’t go back into Lesley yet.

Butchers came in, ‘It’s your son, boss.’

Janine’s blood froze. ‘Tom?’ Oh, God, no. Please no. She felt giddy.

‘Michael. Downstairs.’

When she got down to reception he was standing by the doors. ‘I’m locked out. Forgot my keys.’

‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’

‘Review day.’

She was in the middle of a murder enquiry and he’d forgotten his damn keys. She looked at him. Should she just give him hers and let him make his own way home? No, that wouldn’t be right. He was mixed-up, sending him off would add to the chip on his shoulder. ‘Timing!’ she chided him. ‘Come on.’ It’d only take her fifteen minutes if the traffic was good. They couldn’t see Lesley for another half-an-hour anyway. By then she hoped that they would have word from the search – some hidden clothes to confront her with.