Blue Murder (24 page)

Dean looked bewildered and on edge when Janine first saw him. His solicitor sat by his side and Richard made the formal introductions for the recording of the interview.

‘Can you tell us where you were on Saturday morning, Dean?’

‘Oldham, at my mate’s,’ his breath caught in his throat, ‘Douggie’s.’

‘I was sorry to hear about the accident. You were good friends?’

He looked away, Janine saw his Adam’s apple bob, realised how hard he was struggling to hold it all together.

‘When were you at Matthew Tulley’s allotment?’

‘Never,’ he said quickly.

‘Don’t lie to me. We’ve forensic evidence that puts you at the scene of a particularly nasty murder. I think you’d better consider your replies very carefully.’

‘What evidence?’

‘Hard evidence, Dean, and only you could have left it there.’

His eyes darted away again.

‘And you know what also interests me?’ Janine went on. ‘Matthew Tulley had his belly slit open, top to bottom. You’ll know about that, won’t you? What it feels like to carve someone up like that?’

‘I didn’t do it,’ he burst out.

‘You were there.’

‘Just to give Mr Tulley something.’ An admission. Janine caught Richard’s eye. He signalled back – keep going.

‘Go on.’

‘A tape that’s all.’

‘You knew Mr Tulley?’

‘Only because of the videos. I’d collect them from him and bring back a master copy. He wanted his dirty stuff editing. Look at the tape – you’ll see.’

Janine nodded. He knew more, she was sure. ‘What happened Dean? Saturday morning. You weren’t in Oldham.’

Christ! Knocking at the door broke her concentration. Richard sighed with exasperation. Janine excused herself and went to the door, ready to haul someone over the coals for barging in.

‘Sorry, boss.’ Butchers spoke before Janine got chance, lowered his voice. ‘The video they found with his stuff – it’s filmed at the Tulleys’ place.’

This she had to see.

Shap started the VCR. There was a soundtrack playing, an instrumental of
Cry Me A River
, a haunting melody. The camera was taking the viewer through the shrubbery and up to the Tulleys’ front door.

‘Dean Hendrix said he ran errands for Tulley – getting tapes edited. Claims that was why he went to the allotments,’ Janine told them.

Butchers took a call. ‘The warrants, boss. Search and arrest. They’ve both been granted.’

A title sequence.
Lust Beyond Boundaries
. Oh, please! thought Janine. Though what had she expected? Pirated copies of Disney? ‘Maybe Lesley stumbled on Matthew’s home-made porn collection. Went for him in a fit of jealousy?’ she said.

‘Could explain the contact with Ronald Prosser,’ Richard pointed out.

‘Anything else, here?’ She encouraged them to think like detectives – what could they learn? ‘What about the tape, the quality?’

‘Not as shaky as some,’ said Chen.

‘Yet,’ Shap said quietly.

There was a burst of laughter, swiftly suppressed.

‘Maybe using tripods?’ Butchers said.

‘Been edited,’ said Shap, ‘more than one camera, soundtrack added.’

Janine recalled the flight cases, photographic gear in Tulley’s study. ‘And that backs up what Dean Hendrix has been telling us so far. I think I’ll leave this to you lot. Easy on the popcorn.’ She had seen this sort of thing before, as a result of the job, but watching it made her toes curl and watching with a room full of men just added to the discomfort. Janine moved to go.

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!’

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.’

‘Tell me Dean.’ Janine said. ‘You get a taste for it? Give you a buzz?’

He gasped. ‘No, no!’ His breath was jerky, he kept rocking, his face wild. ‘Last time, last time …’

‘Last time what?’ She pressed him.

‘Last time, Williams–’ He couldn’t say it, he stared at Janine, on the brink.

‘He struggle more?’

Dean broke. ‘He … raped … me!’ He drew it out like a howl of pain, face raised to the ceiling, the tendons in his neck standing out.

Janine’s heart stuttered. The poor bloody lad. She put her face in her hands.

Richard stopped the tape.

‘I’m sorry, Dean.’ Janine said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. We’ll get you a drink. You have a break.’

She thought of Michael then, if ever he … if any of her kids had to carry that violation with them. Stop it. She pushed back her chair. Richard looked as shaken as she was. They all needed a break.

They took fifteen minutes in Janine’s office.

Janine sat with her feet up, her shoulders ached, she rubbed at them trying to release the tension. A good soak, that’s what she needed. Later, she promised herself.

Richard was pacing about, still disturbed by Dean’s story. ‘Poor bastard.’

‘He never spoke about it, never even used it in his defence, there was nothing in any of the trial reports, simply got put down to a fight. Too ashamed. Deep down he probably blames himself. Something he said, something he did.’ She swung her feet down. ‘I reckon he’ll give us the real story once he’s calmed down. Deaking should be ready now. Shall we?’

Mr Deaking sat rigidly upright his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He left the talking to his solicitor. ‘My client would like to make a statement. He admits to taking part in the sex sessions with Mrs Tulley, which were filmed by her husband, but he strenuously denies the charge of attempted murder. He was simply trying to find out if Mrs Tulley knew where the tape was.’

‘By choking the life out of her?’ Janine raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so.’

*****

The canteen was busy, coppers coming and going, banter between them and the staff serving. Janine and Richard had got a corner table. Janine, feeling depleted of energy, had gone for a hot meal: lamb hot-pot and braised red cabbage. Something to keep her reserves up for the ordeal ahead. Interviewing Lesley Tulley. Shap had joined them, avid for news about Deaking.

‘They’re always so normal, aren’t they, the Deakings of this world. All that respectability and a shed full of porn.’ Janine shook her head. ‘He buys a tape from one of his suppliers and who’s on it? Lesley, his deputy’s wife. But he doesn’t do anything yet – he waits until Tulley’s in trouble.’

Shap listened, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Richard picked up the story. ‘Tulley keeps his job after the assault on Ferdie Gibson because Deaking backs him to the hilt, in return for …’

‘… a piece of the action.’ Janine said.

Shap fiddled with his lighter. ‘Was he really trying to kill her?’

Janine shrugged. ‘He lost it. He was scared she’d talk, give us the tapes. She wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t take his calls. When Lesley said she didn’t know where the video was he didn’t believe her. Thought he could throttle it out of her.’ She put her empty plate on the tray. ‘Whatever he gets he’ll never pick up another piece of chalk again.’