A Fatal Verdict (25 page)

She reached the top of the steps and stood with her back to him, staring at the lighted door. He walked towards her, girlish Japanese voices twittering like starlings in the air behind him.

As he reached the foot of the steps she raised the shotgun to her shoulder. The voices behind him rose to shrieks and cries. Hearing them, the woman turned and saw him.

Terry stopped, halfway up the steps. The shotgun was pointing towards him, wavering like a branch in a breeze. Her face was still shadowed but he recognized her, at last.

‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘Kathryn Walters, isn’t it? I’m a police officer. Terry Bateson.’

She stared at him for a long, anxious moment. She said something, but the voices on the wall, chattering and shrieking in a crescendo of girlish excitement, made it difficult to hear. Slowly, he climbed the steps towards her.

‘Go away.’ He was close enough to hear now. Kathryn’s voice was low and intense and trance-like. ‘I don’t need you, go away. Come back when I’ve finished.’

‘Put the gun down, Mrs Walters. Please. You don’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘Don’t I? Why not? You hurt me.’ The gun waved unsteadily. ‘You got it wrong, didn’t you? You failed.’

‘I’m sorry about the verdict, Mrs Walters. But this isn’t the way to solve it.’

‘Go away.’ Her voice rose to a sob. ‘Just go! There’s something I’ve got to do.’

This is why the procedures insist you call back-up, Terry told himself. I need marksmen to cover me, someone to warn the victim and keep him out of the way. The
victim
- David Kidd, of all people! And this woman a possible murderer. This is what happens when we get things wrong.

‘Mrs Walters. Put the gun down for me, please.’

‘I can’t sleep, you see. If he was dead I could sleep.’

‘I understand. Really. But it wouldn’t help, you know. You’d only feel worse.’

‘How do you know? Has anyone killed your daughter?’

Her voice had risen, and the Japanese were still twittering in the background. Don’t be a hero, son, that’s what the manuals say. Terry glanced anxiously at the lighted door to his left. Any moment now David Kidd might hear the noise and step out, and then what do I do? Jump on this woman before she has time to shoot, or wait until she’s blown his guts across the wall?

‘Is that your husband’s gun, Kathryn?’

She nodded. ‘
He
should be doing this, not me.’

‘Have you fired it before?’

‘I know how it works, if that’s what you mean. Go away.’

‘If you put it down now, the courts will understand, anyone would. Nothing has happened yet, nobody’s hurt. Give me the gun, Kathryn. Please.’

The gun barrel, he noticed, was drooping. For a while she didn’t reply. She was breathing heavily, tears trickling down her face. ‘Why are you here? You shouldn’t have come.’

‘Put it down, Kathryn. Please.’

She put the gun on the patio wall beside her and turned away, her arms crossed across her chest. There were shrieks of excitement from the wall behind. Terry took the gun quickly, broke it open, and slipped the cartridges into his pocket. Then he put his hand on her elbow. ‘Let’s go, love, shall we? Before he comes out and finds us. That would just make everything worse.’

32. Gunwoman

At first the evening went well. The restaurant was good, the food excellent. Bob talked with amusement of the antics of a group of children rehearsing a school play, and with pride of some others who had won a music prize. His wretched secretary Stephanie did not get a mention. Sarah’s gloom about the trial faded, and the quiet murmur of his voice took her back to the days when they had first met; the primitive flat in Leeds, the enormous effort Bob had made with her little son Simon, his joy at the birth of Emily, the way they had scrimped and saved on his teacher’s salary while she stole every spare moment she could from childcare to study, ever more books and essays, ever higher grades and new challenges, with nothing but encouragement and support from this man who sat opposite, smiling at her as he used to when they were young.

In those days a visit to an expensive restaurant like this was inconceivable. Yet, Sarah thought sadly, sipping her wine, they had laughed more then, been more easy together. There’d been nothing false about their conversation, nothing strained as there was tonight.

She wondered if she should apologise for her words the other evening, and began to try out phrases in her head that might suit. And yet it was he, after all, who’d betrayed her, not she him. Twice, in fact. Once, eighteen months ago, when he’d believed her son Simon guilty of murder; that wound which would never quite heal. And now, this flirtation with Stephanie. He hadn’t actually apologised for that yet, she realised. Flowers and food were fine, but where were the words, and the promise to change his behaviour? After all - the dreadful thought entered her head - this celebration, this meal, was the very thing an efficient secretary would think of, might even suggest to her lover.

Suppressing the unwelcome idea, she reached across the table, intending to take Bob’s hand. Then her phone rang. She reached for her handbag instead.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d switched it off.’

‘Well, switch it off now, why don’t you? Whoever it is it can wait.’

‘Yes, okay, I ... just a minute.’ She saw the name on the screen. ‘Hi. Terry - what is it?’

She saw Bob frown as Terry answered. ‘Sarah, I’m sorry to disturb you, but something’s come up. It’s Kathryn Walters, I’ve arrested her.’

‘What? Terry, you’re mad.’

‘No, I had to. Listen, this is what happened.’ Briefly, to her astonishment, he described what he’d seen from the wall, what he’d done. ‘So I had to arrest her, of course, but the reason I’m ringing is, she wants a lawyer, and she’s talking about you. So I don’t know what you’re doing but if there’s any way you can get down to Fulford in the next hour or so ...’

‘Terry, I don’t do police station work. That’s for solicitors.’

‘I know it is normally, but in this case you’re involved, aren’t you? I mean we both are. This would never have happened if Kidd had been convicted, and she’s asking for you ...’

Bob, Sarah saw, was getting disturbed and angry. ‘Terry, I don’t know the procedures. You’d be better off with someone like Lucy ...’

‘Please, Sarah.’ Terry’s voice on the phone became more insistent. ‘Look, I know this looks bad, but in the circumstances I want to make as little of it as possible, and you’re the only one who really understands why. You’re not actually prohibited from doing this, are you?’

‘No, I don’t think so, but ... I’m in a restaurant, Terry, it’s my wedding anniversary.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry then, but ... Look, it’s a mistake, I’ll get someone else. Who did you say?’

‘Lucy Parsons. But - Terry, is she really asking for me?’

‘Yes, of course. And you do understand this. But ...’

‘Okay, look, I’m just round the corner. Bob can drive me. I’ll be there in what - fifteen minutes?’

Their arrival at the police station was not harmonious. Bob was furious, and sulked bitterly all the way there. ‘This was supposed to be our special evening, Sarah, I made a big effort. You don’t like it when I mess you around like this’

‘I know you did, Bob, and I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important.’

‘What exactly is so important about this woman - and this detective - that it can’t wait till the morning?’

‘I’ll explain later, Bob, when I get home. I’ll take a taxi back.’

‘If I’m still awake. I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Inspectors - big day, lots of stress.’

Yeah, sure, Sarah thought, getting out of the car. Your pupils don’t murder each other, do they, when you get things wrong? She imagined him dialling Stephanie to complain how hard done by he was, then shrugged and strode into the station, still in her smart heels.

Terry Bateson led her down a corridor to a small interview room with a buzzing light. Kathryn Walters sat the table, staring dully at her hands as though she’d forgotten what they were for. She looked exhausted, Sarah thought, and bewildered too, as though all her efforts had gone into getting herself onto that roof garden with the shotgun, and none into what might come after. This is what happens when the justice system lets people down, she thought gloomily. People seek their own revenge.

‘Mrs Walters? I understand that you’ve asked me to accompany you in this interview. As a barrister I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but in the circumstances ...’

Kathryn gazed at her bleakly. ‘You understand, don’t you? You know why I had to do it.’

Sarah glanced quickly to ensure that Terry had closed the door behind him. ‘If it was about Shelley, yes, of course. I’ve been told you were arrested outside David Kidd’s flat with a shotgun. Is that true?’

Kathryn nodded dully. ‘But that detective came. God knows how.’

Sarah sat down quietly opposite her. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened? Don’t worry, this is quite confidential.’

‘I went there to kill him, didn’t I?’ Kathryn turned her hand over and peered at her ring. ‘I would have done it too, if that man hadn’t come. The lights were on in that monster’s flat, I know he was in there somewhere.’ She looked up, staring straight into Sarah’s eyes. ‘I told you before, that’s what I believe in. An eye for an eye. He killed her, and they let him go.’

‘I know, Mrs Walters, and I’m sorry. But ... it might be better not to say that, when the detective interviews you. Not if you want to stay out of prison.’

‘Why not? It’s true, isn’t it? That’s what I meant to do.’

The woman’s lost touch with reality, Sarah thought. Or at least, what we normally think of as real. ‘You can tell the truth to me, of course, but you don’t need to say anything to the police. You’ve a right to stay silent, and that must be better than admitting to attempted murder. Let them prove it if they can.’

‘Of course they can prove it. He caught me outside the flat with a gun.’

‘Yes, well.’ Sarah sighed. This wasn’t a situation she was used to. They used solicitors for these early stages. But Terry was right - if she, and he, hadn’t got things wrong in court, this woman would never be here. ‘Maybe you just went there to frighten him,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘Did you? Think about that. Remember, it’s your intention that counts as much as the facts.’

Kathryn stared at her dully, and Sarah floundered on, wondering how far she could ethically go. ‘I’m not suggesting you lie, of course, but you may have been confused, with all sorts of contradictory emotions going through your head, and so to say you intended to do one thing rather than another may not be the whole truth, do you see?’ I shouldn’t be here, she thought, listening to her voice gabbling, I’m out of my depth. ‘So it’s far better to say nothing at all. Let them prove your intention, if they can. Otherwise ...’

‘I’ll go to prison and he’ll stay free?’

‘Ye ... yes, exactly,’ said Sarah, thinking that’s not quite what I meant but what do you expect, with a devious twisting Jesuitical argument like that? God knows what solicitors do. The stunned blurry confused disappointment had begun to fade from Kathryn’s face, she noted, leaving a ghostly determination behind. Kathryn smiled bleakly.

‘Then maybe you’re right. That wouldn’t be justice, would it?’

‘No.’ What have I unleashed here, Sarah wondered, in the grim silence that followed. ‘That doesn’t mean you should try to kill him again, you know. That’s not what I meant at all.’

‘I know you didn’t,’ said Kathryn, in her new calmer voice. ‘But then it’s not your daughter that was murdered, is it, Mrs Newby? Anyway, don’t worry. We’ve only got one shotgun at home.’

For Terry, the arrest of Kathryn Walters was a nightmare. If Kidd had been convicted, this could never have happened. Kathryn wasn’t a criminal, she was a victim, the mother of a murdered child. And yet here she was, under arrest and about to be charged with - well, what? Attempted murder? If I hadn’t stopped her, Terry thought, she’d have killed him, and been locked up for life. And it’s all Will Churchill’s fault, and mine for not checking up on him in time!

An hour later, with the cartridges burning a hole in his pocket, Terry led Kathryn and Sarah along the corridor to a different interview room. He paused for a moment outside the door. ‘Listen to me, Mrs Walters. In a moment I’ll caution you formally again, but first, let me give you some advice. Say as little as possible, just answer me yes or no if you can. Be advised by Mrs Newby, of course, but I’m telling you this for free.’

Sarah glanced at him curiously as she entered the room, and sat beside Kathryn at the table. What had he meant by that? A young female constable watched impassively from a corner. Terry switched on the tape and read the caution.

‘Now, Mrs Walters, four days ago a man called David Kidd was acquitted of murdering your daughter Shelley at York Crown Court. That’s true, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘You, as a mother, must have found that extremely upsetting. Traumatic, even.’

‘Of course I did. How would you feel, if it was your daughter, and that bastard ...’ Sarah put a hand on Kathryn’s arm, to squeeze a warning. But Terry, it seemed, was pursuing an agenda of his own, a rather less aggressive one than Sarah had expected.

‘Yes, all right, Mrs Walters, I understand. Have you been able to sleep since the trial?’

‘Not much, no.’

‘So for the past few days you’ve had hardly any sleep. You’re overtired, and understandably very upset. Is that a fair description?’

‘Yes, of course it is.’

‘Okay. Now the reason you’re here, Mrs Walters, is that this evening you were arrested outside David Kidd’s flat with this shotgun.’ He indicated the shotgun, now absurdly wrapped in a long plastic evidence bag and leaning against the wall. ‘Is it yours?’

‘It’s my husband’s.’

‘What does he use it for?’

‘To shoot rabbits, mostly, and pheasants.’

‘Do you go shooting with him?’

‘No. I don’t like it.’

Where’s he going with this, Sarah wondered. He’s taking a long time to get to the point. Either there’s something wrong with the light in here or the man’s looking ill. Grey, haunted almost. Perhaps he’s not sleeping well.

‘So you’re not used to using the gun?’ Terry continued.

‘No, not really. It’s his thing, not mine. He should have ...’

‘Mrs Walters, just answer the questions, please.’ Terry drew a deep breath. He - and Will Churchill - had put this woman in this position; now he wanted to put things right. But this was the moment of decision; there could be no going back later.  He plunged on before he could have second thoughts. It was all being recorded; he had to sound firm and convincing, without the least sign of hesitation.

‘I want you to think about this very carefully, if you will. When I took this shotgun from you I was surprised - relieved perhaps would be a better word - to find that there were no cartridges in it. None at all. The gun was unloaded. You knew that, didn’t you?’

Kathryn and Sarah both stared at Terry in silence. His face was quite wooden, Sarah noted, quite serious. Even when his eyes met hers they were perfectly still. The devious bastard, she thought. He’s lying, he has to be. He means to let her off.

‘I ... no, I ... I don’t remember.’

‘You do know the gun doesn’t work without cartridges, don’t you, Mrs Walters?’

‘Yes, of course I know that.’

‘Yes. But you hadn’t put any cartridges in the gun, Mrs Walters. So however tired and emotional you were, you must have realised the gun couldn’t hurt anybody.’

‘I ... yes, I suppose I did.’

‘All right.’ Terry met Sarah’s eyes again, still avoiding a wink or the slightest sign of conspiracy. This can’t be true, surely, Sarah thought, he has to be making this up. ‘So we need to know what you were doing outside Mr Kidd’s flat with this unloaded shotgun. A gun which you didn’t really know how to use. Were you trying to frighten Mr Kidd, perhaps, Mrs Walters?’

‘I ... maybe, I don’t know.’ Kathryn glanced at Sarah, remembering their earlier interview. ‘I was upset. I may have been ... confused.’

‘You were tired, overwrought, and confused?’

‘I ... yes.’

‘So confused that you made no attempt to load the gun. Nonetheless, Mrs Walters, if Mr Kidd had come out he would have been very frightened, which may be what you intended. Not to kill him, but scare him. Now even taking into account your emotional state, that’s still a serious crime, an assault which can’t be ignored. Do you admit that’s what you intended to do?’