Blue Murder (26 page)

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Authors: Cath Staincliffe

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Traditional, #Women Sleuths

BOOK: Blue Murder
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‘Yes, Father.’

‘And you won’t be doing it again now, will you?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Good. Is there anything else?’

‘And I told lies,’ Jade said, then very fast so maybe he wouldn’t catch it all, ‘to the policeman. I said I didn’t see anyone and I did.’

‘See anybody?’

‘On the allotments, on Saturday, you know.’

‘Do you mean where that man was … found.’

‘Yes, Father.’ Jade’s eyes had gone all hot now.

‘But you did see somebody?’

‘Yes. I saw someone running away. I’m sorry I was so scared!’

‘Now, I’m glad you’ve told me, God is proud of us when we tell the truth, even if that means we have to be very brave about it. And I think it would be a big help for the police if you told them as well.’

‘But …’

‘I can have a word with your mum and make sure everything’s all right on that score. What do you say?’

Jade knew she couldn’t say no. Now she’d be in trouble. Big trouble. ‘Yes, Father.’

 

*****

 

‘Nothing, boss,’ Butchers shook his head. ‘They’ve taken the place apart. Search completed.’

Janine felt like kicking someone. The clothes couldn't have disappeared, but without a break she could not hold Lesley Tulley any longer.

‘Let her go.’

She was so disheartened. A few hours and her chance for a result would be over, passed on to O’Halloran. The Lemon would have something to gloat about.

 

*****

 

Dean was remembering. Couldn’t stop remembering, like someone scratching, the same sample over and over.

His first thought when the guy had shoved him was a mugging. Dean putting his hands up: ‘Hang on, mate.’ Saw the knife. Then the guy was holding it under his neck. A cool slice of metal against his throat. Dean was thinking please don’t cut me, trying to keep his eyes calm so the guy wouldn’t get more manic and top him.

‘I’ve got money,’ Dean had said to buy time but it came out quiet because he daren’t move too much with the knife there.

‘Turn round.’

Still not getting it. Turning, keeping his hands away so the guy can pat him down and take the bit of cash he’s got left. Hand on him, pulling at his joggers, one swift yank, then his pants. The guy slammed him against the wall, he turned his face to the left to save his nose. The knife was by his chin, against the brick. Dean could smell the damp mortar, feel the moisture from the stone on his right cheek. He heard traffic and a girl laughing and a boom-box passing by and blood rushing through his ears.

Then Dean was crying with shock and pain, knowing what the guy was doing to him. The guy pulled away. His right hand on Dean’s shoulder, left grasping the knife. Dean could smell the stink of the guy’s deodorant and the grease on the air from some take-away. He felt this wildness in him, coming up, like something he couldn’t stop. A roll of anger surfing away the fear. He didn’t plan it, there was no time for that, he just moved.

He had swung round and threw his own body back against the guy, using the wall to wind him. Dean smacked the man’s wrist against the brick until he dropped the knife. Breathing hard, Dean went for it. In slow motion, he watched his own fingers curl around the handle and lift it from the ground. The ground speckled with drops of light, a rainbow circle of oil and fragments of glass. The handle was warm. He was straightening up, saw the guy’s fist come at him from the corner of his eye. Stabbed the knife in and pulled up. Easy motion, like ripping rotten cloth. Up and up till he hit bone.

When he got home, he sat rocking in the dark. Same as when his mum died and they took him into care.

 

*****

 

Shap had taken the call from the priest while Janine was out with Michael. He’d left a memo for Butchers and gone to see what the story was. They both expected it to be a wild goose chase. Impressionable kid wanting fifteen minutes of fame or some extra attention.

He sat in the kid’s house while she told him, her eyes wide, her mum looking on with thinly veiled dismay.

‘It was the lady on telly. The one on the news that was asking for help.’

‘What was the lady doing?’

‘Running away.’

‘What else can you remember about her?’

‘Someone had hurt her.’

Shap looked sceptical.

‘They did,’ she insisted. ‘They’d battered her and she was all covered in blood. Like a nosebleed.’

Shap pulled out his phone, asked the kid a couple more questions then rang it in.

At the station Richard answered the phone in the murder room. Listened to Shap and then reported to Janine.

‘Kid at number three saw Lesley Tulley running from the scene, dripping blood on Saturday morning.’

Surprise rippled across Janine’s face. ‘Why the hell didn’t we have this sooner?’

‘They weren’t home in the first house-to-house. When Butchers finally questioned her, the kid lied. She was forbidden to play on the allotments. Couldn’t tell us without getting in trouble.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Time?’

‘Definitely before 9.25. She saw …’ he paused to check his notes, ‘the end of Digit?’

Janine smiled at his mistake. ‘Diggit. How old?’

‘Seven.’

Janine winced. Very young. ‘A witness, though. I’m bringing Lesley back in.’

She grabbed her coat.

‘Is it enough?’ Richard said.

‘It’s all I’ve got. I’m buggered if I’m going to let O’Halloran waltz in and get the credit. We’ve worked damn hard on this and we’re nearly there. Well?’

Richard picked up his own coat. ‘You’re the boss.’

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

Lesley felt drained, her whole body ached as though she had been physically beaten. She stared at the mug in her hand. Let her thoughts drift.

‘Lesley,’ Emma startled her. ‘It’s your friend John again.

The man from the car park. Tears stung her eyes.

‘I’ll tell him to come back later.’ Emma said briskly, turning to go back to the front door.

‘No,’ she got to her feet, ‘really, it’s fine.’ She daren’t refuse to see him.

‘Are you sure, you’re exhausted?’

‘Yes, I’d like to see him,’ she said brightly, ‘he won’t stay long.’

She took him into the lounge. He shut the door. Stared at her. He came and stood very close. She could smell tobacco on his clothes and cooking fat.

‘What I know. Could be crucial.’

‘You just gave me a ticket, that’s all. Don’t be ridiculous,’ she tried to deflect him.

‘Just a question of whether I ring Crimestoppers or not.’

‘What do you want, money?’

‘Now, how do you cost a thing like that? Five hundred? Five thousand? What price freedom, eh?’

She waited. It was a nightmare. It was all a nightmare.

‘And there are other things besides money,’ he reached out and ran his finger along the edge of her jaw. She began to shake.

‘Let’s say a thousand cash, to start,’ he whispered. ‘And the rest, we’ll play it by ear. Lady like you, just be a question of which card to draw it on, eh?’

‘They won’t–’

‘Soon as you get chance. I’ll call same time tomorrow. Be nice if we were alone.’ He pressed the pad of his finger against her lips. She was rigid with fear and dislike.

A sudden commotion from the hallway and the door swung open. Chief Inspector Lewis came in, her mouth set. ‘Lesley Tulley, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Matthew Tulley …’

 

*****

 

They took Dean to make his phone call. His chest hurt and he felt like he was losing it big-time but he had to try, one last chance.

‘Paula,’ his voice sounded dry and faraway. ‘I’m in South Manchester police station. I want to see you, Paula, I know I’ve messed you about but I just … things are okay, you know? Just come and see us will you?’

‘Dean,’ she said, sounding unsure.

‘I’ll tell you, all of it, everything.’ And he meant it. ‘Will you come and see us?’

There was a long pause, then her breath, a little shaky. ‘All right.’

Dean sniffed hard, wiped his nose with his hand and cleared his throat. He thought about the roll of dosh he’d slung up into Douggie’s lampshade. If the Bill hadn’t nabbed it, might be worth a trip to Oldham next chance he got. Nice little nest egg. ‘It’s gonna be all right,’ he said, reassuring himself as much as her. ‘Don’t worry.’ Be happy, like the man said.

 

*****

 

‘Is there anything you wish to say, Lesley?’

‘If I could help, in any way, don’t you think I would? I loved my husband.’

‘Is that why you put up with his perversions?’ Janine said calmly. ‘The torture.’

‘What about the man who was calling on you just now?’ Richard said. ‘Was he one of your husband’s contacts?’

Janine sensed uncertainty in her response.

Lesley licked her lips. ‘Just a friend of mine.’

‘Really?’ Richard said.

Lesley kept quiet.

‘A witness has come forward.’ He told her. ‘They place you at the allotments shortly after nine a.m.’

Lesley recoiled with shock, shook her head in denial, her forehead creased. ‘No!’

Janine spoke. ‘You were covered in blood, you were running away. Later you get rid of the knife in a litter bin in town. We recover that knife. In other words, we can place you at the scene and we can link you to the weapon.’ Stretching it a bit, Janine mentally crossed her fingers. ‘We can also show that you consistently lied to investigating officers and constructed a false alibi. We have a motive, too – you were subjected to horrendous physical and sexual abuse in your marriage.’

Then Lesley Tulley looked at her, wounded eyes, mouth trembling. Speak, willed Janine, for God’s sake speak. A rap on the door broke the spell. She could have screamed with frustration. What the hell were they playing at? They knew this was a crucial interview. Lesley Tulley sat, face averted and her eyes half-closed.

Janine stalked out. ‘Boss.’ Shap mouthed. ‘Trouble!’

‘But it’s an eyewitness, sir.’ Janine told The Lemon.

‘An eight-year-old?’

‘Seven,’ Janine went on hurriedly, ‘she gave us a detailed description, sir. as well. If I can just work at it–’

‘No. No clothes, no forensics, no chance. Release her.’

‘But sir, I think–’

‘Release her.’

She nearly had her, why couldn’t he see that? ‘No. I’m sorry–’

‘Chief Inspector Lewis!’

She left the room without another word, furious and disappointed.

 

*****

 

A leaden sense of failure hung over the team in the murder room. She’d told them what Hackett had instructed, but she had not yet released Lesley Tulley. Janine couldn’t sit still, her mind working overtime, her belly tense with the stress of the situation. If she only had the clothes. ‘They searched the drains?’ She went over it again.

‘They did the lot. Nothing on the premises.’ Richard said.

‘It just doesn’t add up. They were in the washing machine. The woman hasn’t been out of the house without police escort. She’s been nowhere. Why didn’t she burn them with the tapes?’

‘Too obvious?’ Richard stretched his arms, folded them behind his head.

‘The bonfire was hardly subtle,’ she worked out the time, ‘unless … she’d already got rid of them by Sunday night.’

‘Where?’ Richard thought she was clutching at straws. ‘You said yourself she never went anywhere without–’

Sudden shocking realisation hit her like a cold shower. Jesus Christ! ‘Wait! She did leave the house, we bloody took her! Oh, hell, we’re going to be too late!’ Janine said urgently. She ran, not easy with the weight of the pregnancy and the shortness of breath.

The others followed her through the corridors, across the car park and into the Mortuary building. Along the corridor to the Ladies toilets. She barged past the sign Cleaning in Progress and inside.

‘Oy, closed,’ the cleaner yelled at them all. Cream cleanser in one hand, she dunked her ciggie in the washbasin. ‘Can’t you read?’

‘Have you done the bins?’

Janine went into the stall and upended the sanitary bin. One carrier bag, tightly tied! She undid it, her heart about to burst. Yes! There they were. Jog-pants, a stripe down the side, t-shirt, cap. She left them as they were, careful not to contaminate them.

She closed the bag, stepped out and swung it round

her head.

Richard grinned. Shap cheered and the others gave her a round of applause.

‘Right!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘You two,’ she nodded at her sergeants, ‘keep The Lemon at bay.’

 

*****

 

‘We’ve found the clothes. At the mortuary.’

Janine saw the flicker of fear in Lesley’s eyes, a blink, then she recovered. Richard had seen it too, he dipped his head a fraction.

‘I still don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m sure we’ll get a conviction. The only question will be whether the act was premeditated or not.’ Would Lesley go for the bait, try and persuade them it was in the heat of the moment? ‘You claimed you loved him but his love had become a monstrous thing, hadn’t it Lesley? Destroying you.’

As Janine watched, Lesley Tulley appeared to crumble, her face dissolving in tears, her mouth taut with emotion. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

Thank God, Janine thought, she’s talking.

The solicitor sat forward. ‘Please, Mrs Tulley, I advise you most strongly to take counsel.’

‘If I need any advice, I’ll ask for it.’ She paused, bowed her head as if gathering strength then began to speak. ‘We had a row. A terrible row. He was hitting me and I thought he was going to kill me. There was a knife, on the table in the shed. The knife … I was so frightened. I didn’t mean to hurt him.’

‘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.’

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