‘Not exactly. I’m at his flat. Greg has been arrested.’
‘Oh my God. What for?’
‘What do you think for?’ snapped Gill.
Almost immediately she added: ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. He’s been arrested on suspicion of murdering his father. He didn’t do it, of course.’
‘Uh, no. Of course not. I’m sure he didn’t.’
Helen sounded definite enough. But Gill suspected that she probably wasn’t at all sure. Why would she be? But she was glad that Helen had not directly challenged her.
‘The thing is, I should be the prime suspect,’ Gill continued.
‘I see,’ said Helen Harris.
‘I don’t think you do,’ said Gill. ‘If I have a cast-iron alibi, then it focuses police attention almost entirely on Greg. It shouldn’t, but it does. I don’t want that. I want to create a smokescreen.’
‘And you want me to be your smokescreen?’
‘Part of it, yes.’
‘Well, presumably the police wouldn’t have arrested Greg without evidence. Do you know what evidence they have?’
‘No. Nobody has told me anything.’
‘Has he been charged, do you know?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘Well look, he may have been arrested on suspicion of an offence, but that does not necessarily mean he will be charged. That will depend on whether or not the Crown Prosecution Service consider there’s enough evidence to charge him. And if they don’t, the police can’t keep him in custody indefinitely. Greg could well be released very soon—’
‘I’m not prepared to take that chance,’ Gill interrupted. ‘I need you to do as I’ve asked, Helen.’
‘OK, let me get this straight. What exactly are you asking me to do? Do you want me to lie to the police? Is that it? Because I’m not sure I’m prepared to do that.’
‘No, of course not. Just tell them the truth. Tell them you can’t be sure whether or not I was in the House all afternoon. Tell them you were shut away in your office. You were, weren’t you?’
‘Part of the time, yes. But you know that, because you were there. As were at least five other women, including Sadie.’
‘I was only there part of the time too. And I’ve told the police that.’
‘Look Gill, I can understand that you want to save your son, but...’
‘There is no but,’ said Gill. ‘I’m going to save my son. I’m going to make the police accept that he is innocent.’
‘Well, let’s say he isn’t innocent, just for a moment. Then there would be no doubting his motive, would there? He wanted to protect his mother from a truly monstrous man. You mustn’t forget that, Gill. Thomas was a monster and, to be honest, whoever killed him could be regarded as having been totally justified. Certainly if his killer was a family member.’
‘And do you think a court could be persuaded to see it that way, Helen?’
‘Who knows, but Greg was abused too—’
‘No,’ Gill interrupted. ‘Greg wasn’t abused. Well, not really.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘His father never lifted a hand to him.’
‘There are other kinds of abuse, Gill. As you know only too well.’
‘Look Helen, all I am asking is that you tell the police you couldn’t be certain that I was in the House all afternoon. Surely that isn’t too much to ask?’
‘I am on your side, Gill, probably more than you will ever realize,’ said Helen noncommittedly.
And with that she ended the call.
Helen was disturbed. She was an assertive woman, confident and sure of herself. Her work was her passion. And she rarely had any doubts about what to do in the pursuance of her abiding aim. Which was to protect and nurture the victims of abuse.
She had thought she had known what was best for Gill Quinn. She still thought she knew what was best for her. But Greg’s arrest was a new and perhaps unexpected factor. However it was one that she supposed she should have expected.
After all, if Gill had an indisputable alibi, then it was pretty obvious who the police would focus their attention on next. They would undoubtedly consider Thomas’ murder to be a domestic. In such a situation that was statistically almost always the case. So if they were unable to prove the wife was guilty, then a son who loathed his father, and had left home at seventeen in order to escape from his father, would immediately be first in the frame.
Helen didn’t know what to do any more. She was just considering her options when her phone rang. The caller was DI Vogel.
He came straight to the point. ‘Gill Quinn tells us that she was not at Helen’s House all day on Saturday when her husband was killed,’ he began. ‘I need to ask you again about the alibi you have given her.’
‘I see,’ said Helen. Not for the first time in her life she was beginning to feel trapped by circumstances beyond her control.
‘So are you sure that Gill was at the House all day and did not leave at all, if only for an hour or two. This is a very serious matter. Are you quite sure, Helen?’
‘I understand that you have now arrested Greg Quinn on suspicion of his father’s murder, isn’t that so?’ enquired Helen.
There was an almost imperceptible pause.
‘Will you please answer my question,’ said Vogel sternly.
‘Mr Vogel, Gill is a doting mother, she has a loving relationship with her son, which is more than she ever had with her monster of a husband,’ responded Helen. ‘Wouldn’t you think she would go to any lengths, say or do almost anything, to protect her son?’
‘Miss Harris, please, I just need you to confirm the alibi you have given Gill.’
Helen sighed. She could not afford to get on the wrong side of the law. She had close relationships with the police and all of those dealing with violent crime in North Devon, including legal and medical professionals. And, if she wanted Helen’s House to effectively continue in its work, she needed to avoid putting those relationships at risk.
‘All right, Mr Vogel, I will once again confirm that Gill Quinn was with us here at Helen’s House on Saturday,’ she said, trying not to sound too reluctant.
‘All day, Miss Harris?’ queried Vogel.
Gill’s words came back to Helen. Could she be absolutely sure that Gill hadn’t left the House during that fateful afternoon? She thought of Gill as a friend, as she did all the women who came to her for help. But she did not wish to mislead the police. Not at this stage. In any case, she was beginning to form a plan. Another way in which she could help Gill Quinn and her son.
‘Look,’ Helen responded. ‘It is, I suppose, remotely possible that Gill could have left the House on Saturday at some stage without my knowledge, or the knowledge of anyone else who was here, although highly unlikely. But it is really quite impossible to see how she could have been away from here for long enough to get herself to St Anne’s Avenue, between Northam and Appledore, kill her husband, and then get back here without anyone noticing she had gone.’
‘Thank you, Miss Harris,’ said Vogel, a tad wearily. ‘Could I ask you, by the way, how you knew we had arrested Greg Quinn? We’ve not released a public statement yet.’
‘No. Gill told me.’
‘Did she indeed? And did she also ask you to withdraw her alibi, by any chance?’
‘Not exactly. Just to say I could have been mistaken.’
‘So, and this really is the last time, is there any chance at all that you could have been mistaken?’
‘No, Mr Vogel, there is not.’
As soon as the call ended, Helen began to execute her alternative plan to help both Gill and her son.
She made two further phone calls. The first was to the senior custody sergeant at Barnstaple police station. The second was to Philip Stubbs, the legal aid solicitor who was representing Greg Quinn.