Lilian nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
‘As hoped for, we have been able to take a full statement from Mr St John and there are a number of points arising which require clarification from you.’
Lilian felt herself beginning to panic again.
‘I’ve been told not to say any more until my solicitor gets here,’ she said.
McDermott raised one eyebrow. ‘That’s your prerogative, of course, but I thought you were happy to answer any questions that might clear this matter up.’
‘Well yes, but—’
‘It’s up to you, Mrs St John. I mean, perhaps you’d like to change your statement. Perhaps Mr St John didn’t force you to go to the hotel with him?’
‘Of course I don’t want to change my statement. Of course he forced me.’
‘How exactly? Was he violent towards you?’
‘Well, not exactly, but I told you, I was already so afraid of him. With good reason. He even put a tracker on my car, for God’s sake. Then he took my car keys from me and made me go with him, he had his thugs with him...’
Lilian was vaguely aware of McDermott and Constable Richardson exchanging a swift glance, as if they no longer believed a word she was saying.
‘We found your car in the Hotel du Vin car park, where your husband told us it was, Mrs St John. The vehicle is currently being examined by our technicians. They have already completed an electronic scan and have discovered no tracking devices. The keys, by the way, were in the ignition when the car was collected.’
‘But don’t you see?’
One half of Lilian knew she should stop this interview right away, refuse to answer any more questions until Charlie arrived, just as Kate had instructed her. But the other half of her was desperate to put the record straight, in spite of being acutely aware of a subtle change in McDermott’s attitude towards her, even though his manner remained polite and professional.
‘He would have had his people do that,’ she continued. ‘Remove the tracker, put the keys back.’
‘Your husband says you drove to the hotel and met him there of your own free will. That is what happened, isn’t it?’
‘What? No. Of course it isn’t.’
‘He says you hadn’t responded to any of his phone calls after the previous incident, even though he made it clear that all he wanted to do was put things right between you. He did not go to the London apartment which was your marital home, because he believed that he was wanted by the Met. But his absolute priority was to see you. So he invited you to stay with him in a hotel, in Bristol, the city that had once been your home, a place he knew you loved. And you accepted the invitation.’
Lilian was staggered. Throughout their brief marriage she had frequently been taken aback by the gall of the man. But she hadn’t expected Kurt to be able to twist the truth so plausibly under these circumstances, not when he was still recovering from being stabbed, anyway.
‘If you were so afraid of him why did you go to a place where you knew you would be alone with him?’
‘I didn’t. Honestly I didn’t. He damn near kidnapped me off the streets. That’s what really happened. I told you before. You have to believe me. I was afraid he would hurt me badly again if I didn’t do what he said.’
‘And yet the only person who got badly hurt in all this, Mrs St John, was your husband, was it not?’
‘I did spend nearly three weeks in hospital after the last time he attacked me.’
‘I am really only concerned with the incident in hand, Mrs St John. But, since you brought it up, your husband tells a different story about that too.’
‘What?’
‘Were the injuries that landed you in hospital for so long really caused by your husband beating you up, Mrs St John?’
‘Of course they were. What do you think, for God’s sake? Do you think I broke my own ankle? Fractured my own skull?’
‘Not exactly. But I think some of these injuries may, just may, have been caused by rough sex. Is that not the case?’
‘Rough sex?’ Lilian’s head was pounding. ‘Rough sex? A fractured skull, a broken ankle, and cracked ribs?’
‘Rough sex that went wrong, Mrs St John. It is, I understand, a matter of record that your husband called for help the night you were injured, and you were found lying in the central courtyard of your apartment block, is it not?’
‘I don’t know, I was unconscious.’
Lilian shouted the words out. She was all too aware that she was beginning to fall apart. A night in a police cell followed by this kind of questioning was proving to be more than she could cope with.
‘Yes. But your husband tells us you fell from the balcony of your apartment during a cocaine-fuelled sex session. Or to be more exact, you were so off your head that you threw yourself off the balcony. Isn’t that right?’
‘No, no. It is not right.’
‘Well, you do admit that you had been taking cocaine, I presume?’
‘Only because he made me. He made me.’
‘I see.’
DS McDermott sounded as if he saw nothing at all.
‘Look, please, will you at least speak to the police in London?’ Lilian requested desperately. ‘Detective Sergeant Mitchell, at West End Central. She’ll tell you what happened. She was the one who got the warrant issued for Kurt’s arrest.’
‘Actually there is no warrant out for your husband’s arrest, Mrs St John,’ said DS McDermott. ‘Although Mr St John was also under the impression that a warrant had been issued, which is why he went to the lengths he did of assuming a false identity in order to find a way to meet up with you and try to rebuild a marriage he valued enough to risk his freedom for. In fact Mr St John was merely wanted for questioning, which is an entirely different matter.’
Lilian slumped in her chair, feeling utterly defeated. Hadn’t DS Mitchell told her there was a warrant out for Kurt’s arrest? She had surely let Lilian believe that, either deliberately or accidentally. Or had she just said the Met was looking for Kurt, that he would be found? Lilian was no longer sure of anything. She did, however, realize glumly that it was probably she who had told Kurt that there was a warrant out for him.
‘In any case, as I have told you, my interest is entirely in the current incident,’ the detective sergeant continued. ‘Your husband assures us that not only did you willingly agree to join him in his hotel, but that you gave every indication that you wanted to have sex with him, until you suddenly seemed to go off your head again and attacked him.’
‘Off my head again? Oh my God! That’s just crazy.’
‘Is it, Mrs St John? Perhaps you’re right. Isn’t this just more crazy drug-fuelled behaviour from you?’
Lilian felt as if an icy finger was running up and down her spine.
‘What do you mean, drug-fuelled?’
‘Well, presumably you do admit that you had been taking drugs again.’
‘Again?’
‘Your husband says you have been a regular cocaine user throughout your marriage.’
‘Cocaine. Oh no...’
‘You deny that?’ McDermott removed some sheets of paper from the pile before him on the table. ‘This is a copy of the report from the Charing Cross Hospital where you were taken after the earlier incident. You tested positive for cocaine. Indeed, the results showed that you had ingested substantial amounts of cocaine within hours of your admission. Has there been a mistake?’
‘Yes. I mean no.’ Lilian didn’t know what to say. ‘Look, I only ever took drugs because Kurt made me. He, uh, he liked the effect they had on me. And I, well. The coke made it all more bearable. Just a little. But I wasn’t a user. I wasn’t. Not the way you mean... Only when... when he...’
Her voice tailed off.
DS McDermott continued to look down at the papers on the table.