The scene on the video changed, the conservatory at Ashgrove. A woman, half-clothed. Janine stopped in her tracks. ‘It’s Lesley Tulley. Oh, sweet Jesus!’ The man stood behind her, Lesley’s face was pressed against the glass distorting her cheek and mouth. She was crying. The man had a knife.
‘That’s not Tulley,’ said Richard, ‘the guy with the blade, wrong build.’
On the tape Lesley began to beg. ‘Matthew, please, no more, please! Stop him.’
‘Tulley’s filming it, he’s the cameraman,’ said Janine. ‘The bonfire. This was what she was-’
Lesley’s face contorted with pain and she began to scream, a horrific yelping sound that made Janine feel sick. No run of the mill porn video. This was torture. The sound that Lesley made left no doubt as to her suffering. She saw Chen flinch and Butchers turn away. ‘Wait! Pause it!’ Janine shouted.
Shap hit the remote. The picture froze, showing the man’s arm, his hand around Lesley’s throat.
Think. Janine told herself, resisting the temptation to turn from the image to leave the room. Analyse. How does this help us? What does it tell us?
‘This explains the scars,’ she said. ‘She never cut herself.’
‘This is sick…’ Butchers said in disgust.
‘I think we’ve got our motive.’ Janine said. She looked again at the screen, there was something familiar. ‘The guy’s hand,’ she said slowly. A copper arthritis bracelet, crabbed fingers. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen…’
The truth hit her like plunging off a cliff. ‘Jesus Christ, it’s Deaking!’ She raced to the door.
‘Who?’ Shap asked.
‘The head-teacher… and I’ve just left him at Lesley Tulley’s house!’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The car squealed to a halt, fishtailing on the drive. Janine and Richard jumped out and moved swiftly to the front door. Janine put her finger on the bell and pressed without let up. There was no immediate response so she moved back and signalled to Richard.
He smashed the glass in the front door and put his arm in to free the catch.
Where was she? Janine could feel the blood pounding in her ears and her heart bucking. Richard raced upstairs while Janine checked each of the downstairs rooms. Nothing, deserted, everything in order like the Marie Celeste.
‘The garage,’ she said, when Richard ran back down.
They were there. Mr Deaking had his hands tight round Lesley Tulley’s neck, strangling her. She was like a doll beside him, petite, limp. Her face bloated and red.
‘Let go! Let go of her!’ Janine yelled.
Richard pulled him off and Deaking fell to his knees. Janine caught Lesley who was choking and shaking, her arms thin and frail, almost weightless; like lifting a child.
There was a pause, the only sound people gasping for breath: Deaking, bent double, his breath ragged and noisy; Lesley shuddering, sobbing hoarsely; Richard blowing; Janine panting.
Janine looked at Richard, not hiding anything, a moment’s emotion fired by adrenaline and the sense of shared jeopardy. He held her gaze, eyes wide open, unsmiling, gave a tiny nod. She wanted to hug him.
Richard turned to the teacher. ‘Bernard Deaking, I am arresting you for attempted murder…’
Janine began to recite the caution, still breathless and wondering what the chase had done to her blood pressure. ‘Lesley Tulley, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Matthew Tulley. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if…’
‘I didn’t do it,’ Lesley shook her head slowly, her dark hair swinging. ‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t…’
‘… you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.’
‘You have to believe me.’
‘Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
A sound at the entrance and Emma came in, still holding their shopping, confusion on her face, trying to make sense of the situation.
‘She was in town,’ she said to Janine. ‘You’re making a terrible mistake. She loved him.’
Janine began to lead Lesley out.
‘Emma,’ Lesley said, ‘it’ll be all right, you’ll see. I didn’t do it.’
The team were gathered in the murder room and Janine briefed them on the arrests they had made. ‘They’re being processed now, we’re taking Deaking first. The search at the house is underway.’ With the warrant, the search would be completely thorough. Floorboards would be lifted, the, roof space checked; dogs, detectors and staff would comb the Tulleys’ place inside and out. Janine remained convinced that somewhere there were the clothes that Lesley Tulley must have worn when she killed her husband. Clothes covered in his blood which she had then washed and concealed.
‘We’ll let them both stew for a bit while we have another crack at Dean. I want him to think he’s still centre stage for this; maybe he’ll admit they were colluding if he thinks we’ll go easier on him.’
In the interview room, sat back, attempting to look more relaxed than he actually was, as Janine resumed the interview.
‘Lesley Tulley,’ she said briskly, ‘tell us about her.’
‘I don’t know her.’
‘Come on, Dean.’
‘Straight up, I don’t. I’d never seen her till I looked at the video.’
‘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.’