‘Then what did you do?’
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ her eyes were haunted. ‘I was scared.’
‘And the parking ticket?’ Richard said.
‘The man who came today. I took his.’
He frowned. ‘You said he was a friend?’
‘No, a stranger. I asked him for his ticket.’
‘What was he doing at your home?’
Lesley gave him a look; defiance mingled with distaste. ‘Blackmailing me. He’d watched the Press Conference.’
Janine exhaled and exchanged a look of disgust with Richard. ‘We can do him for that. This row. What was it about?’
‘About the filming. I wanted it to stop. He’d promised. He said I wouldn’t have to do it again.’
‘What were you doing at the allotment?’
‘I went with him, to help out.’
She was lying but very convincingly, her demeanour all honesty now.
‘Lesley. Matthew was seen arriving alone. You had no cuts or bruises.’ Janine spoke softly. ‘It wasn’t self-defence.’
‘Of course it was self-defence,’ she said, anguish twisting her features, ‘you know what he did to me? Remember the diary? Little stars? Film night. Friday was the next one. Prosser was coming back; he was so -’ She broke off, pressed her hand to her mouth, struggled to stay in control. She looked up at Janine her eyes glittering. ‘I can’t have children. My hysterectomy? Matthew told the hospital that I’d been depressed and tried to abort myself. He was very plausible. Do you know what they had used on me that time?’
Janine swallowed her revulsion. You poor bloody woman. But I have to do this. This is what I do. ‘You thought you could get away with it?’
‘I couldn’t think,’ Lesley cried, ‘I’d done a terrible thing and I felt guilty. And Matthew-’
Janine was measured, insistent. ‘You followed him there, you took a knife and you took his life. There was a cut on his arm where he tried to stop you. Nine years, Lesley. Why didn’t you leave him?’
‘I loved him.’ She paused. ‘Once, one time I packed. I couldn’t do it. I was scared.’
‘That he’d find you?’
‘Of losing him.’ Raw emotion made her voice crack.
‘Why Saturday, Lesley?’
‘I told you. Matthew had promised me it was over. He broke his promise.’
‘You could have gone to your sister’s, gone anywhere,’ Janine reasoned.
‘No, no, I couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’ Janine coaxed. ‘Why not, Lesley?’
‘Because he said he’d get someone else if I went,’ she said passionately. ‘That it’d be easy enough to find another girl and teach her, exactly like he had me. Break her.’
Janine felt the tension palpable in the room. The silence stretched. ‘So you killed him?’
‘I couldn’t let him do that.’ There was an ambiguity there. Had she killed him out of jealousy, unwilling to see him with another? Or out of altruism?
Janine nodded. ‘The argument,’ she said gently, ‘when was it, Lesley? Last week? The week before? That’s when you decided, wasn’t it? You couldn’t let some other woman go through that. You’d stop him for good.’
Lesley looked at Janine, her gaze confessing the truth, seeking absolution. A prayer in her eyes. She didn’t need to speak for Janine to find the answer. The admission. And then like a shutter coming down, Lesley’s expression switched. She shook her head.
‘No,’ she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Janine sat back, took a deep breath. Her work was done. Whether the crime was premeditated would be the business of the courtroom, as would the issue of whether Lesley Tulley deserved any punishment for killing the man who had used her so savagely.
Janine looked at Richard. His eyes steady on her, he adjusted his position. She began to speak. ‘Lesley Tulley, you are charged that on the 22nd of February, year two thousand and three, you murdered Matthew Tulley, contrary to Common Law…’
Janine and Richard were reliving the interview. A sense of achievement in the air despite the tragic circumstances of Lesley Tulley’s life. There was a buzz to it that Janine savoured, knowing how hard they had all worked to get here. Aware that she had done it. Led the team and got a result.
‘When you told her we’d found them. Her eyes, you could see it,’ Richard’s face was alight, his manner exhilarated.
Janine shook her head. ‘But imagine that level of control. She can go and identify his body with the freshly washed clothes in her bag, right under our noses.’ She sighed. Eased herself into her chair. She recalled the terrible cries on the videotape. The terror. ‘What must it do to you? In your head, in your heart, living like that?’ She broke off trying to take it all in. ‘I can’t… What she went through… horrific. No one should have to live like that. But… you can’t go round killing people. At the end of the day she was clever,’ she reflected, ‘clever enough to buy a man’s shirt for her husband an hour after she’d killed him.’
‘Not clever enough to walk away.’
Janine stretched. ‘Up to the jury now. With luck they’ll find mitigating circumstances.’
‘O’Halloran’ll kill you,’ he teased.
‘Not if The Lemon gets there first.’ She still had to face the music. ‘Think I might need to go off on bed-rest.’
Richard chuckled. Then he stopped smiling. ‘Janine…’
‘Don’t.’
‘The affairs, Wendy – we were both unhappy.’
‘That’s not what I heard.’
‘Well, you heard wrong. Wendy, she didn’t want kids. I didn’t think it mattered. But you get older – the affairs, it was a way out, that’s all.’
‘And I’ve got a ready-made family?’ She said quickly.
‘It’s not like that. You and me, there was always that spark.’
‘Richard…’ She wished he’d shut up.
‘You feel something.’
She didn’t deny it but a thousand buts crowded her mind.
‘We could be good together. The right wavelength.’
‘I come with a lot of baggage.’
Richard observed her bump. ‘I know,’ he said wryly.
‘Not just this. Three kids, Pete. It’s not like before, it can’t be the two of us. It’s never going to be that simple.’
Shap stuck his head round the door. ‘The Lemon, boss.’
‘Sir.’
‘Exactly which part of ‘release Mrs Tulley’ didn’t you understand?’ His words were clipped, sharp. ‘Your promotion…’
‘We got the clothes, sir.’
He stared at her, momentarily taken aback.
‘And a confession.’ She saw the venom in his glare. He loathed being bested. ‘It’ll fly, sir. CPS like it.’
He closed his eyes briefly. Then tight-lipped. ‘Right,’ a wave to dismiss her.
If that’s how he wants to play it. As she reached the door, passing his computer with an error message on screen – Windows was not shut down properly – he spoke again.
‘Janine.’
She turned, smiling, at last she’d get a morsel of praise, a crumb of appreciation. She’d solved the bloody case, after all. She looked at him expectantly.
‘I need all your documents, evaluation, final budget,’ he checked his watch. ‘Five thirty.’
The bastard!
She nodded curtly. Then had a thought. ‘The Chief Constable – he’ll be delighted. Will you tell him, sir?’ And may it choke you.
His face was like thunder. Then she glimpsed, just for a nanosecond, a hint of humour in his eyes. A slight inclination of the head. Touché.
Janine struggled to collate and copy all the relevant papers and the clock raced towards her deadline. Twenty-five past and he was still in his office. Half past. The last page printing. Beeping and the out of paper light started flashing. Damn. She stuffed more paper in, set resume. It was 5.37 when she got to his office. He had gone.