Kind of Cruel (54 page)

‘You told William and Barney that you and the lady had had a fight and she’d hit you – you’d had a nosebleed. You made them promise not to tell Neil or Sabina, who would only worry. The boys could see you were upset, and they were frightened. You reassured them that everything would be fine as long as the three of you forgot all about it as quickly as you could. Barney did. He’s younger. He remembers some of it: the blood on your clothes, mainly. The invented nosebleed. William’s older – he remembers a bit more. He asked you where the lady was when the three of you left. Why didn’t she come to the door to say goodbye? Thanks to William, we also know that the reason he and Barney were with you that day was because Sabina had to go on a course. Doesn’t take a genius to work out which course. Sabina denied impersonating Amber at first, then admitted it when it was pointed out to her how easy it would be to disprove her claim that she was at home on 2 November, having a day off while you took the boys out. Any number of DriveTech course participants might have identified her.’

Simon could have kicked himself for not working it out sooner. Sabina, who had adopted a Cockney accent when she’d met him and recited a typical ‘suspect-to-detective’ line, thinking it was hilarious; Sabina, who was at Jo’s beck and call. Jo wouldn’t have got a kick out of pretending to be Amber by playing the part of the course rebel and spouting outrageous opinions of the sort she believed Amber might hold. Sabina would. And did. Unable to reproduce Amber’s Culver Valley lilt, she ditched her Italian accent in favour of an upper-class English one.

‘I asked you why you didn’t tell Amber about the speech you gave on the course, undermining the ethos of safe driving, do you remember? You had to think quickly. Why had Sabina missed out this detail, when she was supposed to have told you everything so that you could tell Amber what was meant to have happened to her that day? For what it’s worth, the explanation you came up with was the right one: Sabina tried to get as much fun out of a mind-numbingly boring experience as she could, but it didn’t occur to her that anything
she
might have said was important enough to relay to you. She told you what everyone else had said and done. Her mucking about and being provocative to entertain herself wasn’t important enough to be worth mentioning. You must have been furious when you realised she’d failed to give you vital information and you’d nearly been caught out as a result. It’s your God-given right to know everything, isn’t it? Even when you reveal nothing.’

‘You’re the one intent on telling her everything,’ the solicitor pointed out.

‘She’s hearing nothing she doesn’t already know,’ Simon said. ‘Do you know how Sabina describes you?’ he asked Jo. ‘Her best friend. We’ve told her what you’ve done. She doesn’t believe it. She trusts you, she says. You would never murder anyone. You didn’t trust her, though, did you? She had no idea you owned a second home until we told her. Like Amber, she believed Little Orchard was a rental place you and Neil hired for Christmas 2003. Why wouldn’t she?’

Simon was determined to keep asking, anything that came into his head. If he stopped, there would be nothing for Jo to answer if she changed her mind about talking. It was always easier to respond to a question than to volunteer information unprompted. He wanted her to tell him he was right. He didn’t care when it happened as long as it happened.

‘You don’t even trust your own husband. You didn’t tell him why he had to disappear in the middle of the night, why he had to pretend not to own first a house in Pulham Market and then a house in Surrey. You hardly ever go to Little Orchard, only when Sabina goes back to Italy. Even then, you need an excuse for the rest of the family, somewhere else you can pretend to be. Neil used to suggest selling. You’d never let that happen, but you couldn’t tell him why, could you? Easier to attack him, burst into tears, leave the room. He doesn’t bother any more. You know what he said to me? “I think it’s important to Jo to know she’s got a bolt-hole.” That’s not the word I’d use. Trouble is, there isn’t a word for a house you think of as home but don’t live in and hardly ever visit.’

Simon stood, walked round the table and Jo’s chair, so that he was standing behind her. How would she feel if she could hear him but not see him? Would it change anything?

‘I know what you did and I can prove it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got your DNA in Kat’s flat, William’s statement, a statement from the woman at the costume shop in Pulham Market, Sharon’s house key in your jewellery box. How did you feel when Amber told you the police suspected Terry Bond? Did you get the key out and look at it, touch it? Wonder what was true and what wasn’t? Hard to separate memory and stories, isn’t it? Even harder when you’ve got three categories to contend with: memories, stories and lies. When you want to feel powerful, but not guilty. Hard. Think of the relief of telling the truth. Think about being able to live in the house that feels like home.’

Jo’s head jerked back, then lolled forward.

‘You think all I can prove are the facts, but you’re wrong,’ Simon went on, encouraged to get a reaction from her, even one he couldn’t interpret. ‘I can prove motive too. There’s someone waiting outside ready to tell us all about why you did what you did. You don’t think it’s possible. You’re so busy lying, you don’t stop to wonder if you’re being lied to. It doesn’t occur to you that anyone might disagree with you when you’re so right about everything, tell you what you want to hear just to get you off their back.’

‘Can you please explain what you mean more clearly?’ the solicitor said irritably.

‘You chose a hypnotherapist for Amber. Or, rather, you thought you did. Amber seemed to think the one with the best address, in Great Holling, was probably the best. Instead of wondering if there was any rational basis for her assumption, you panicked. Amber always gets the best, doesn’t she? Undeservingly. She’s got Dinah and Nonie. You didn’t want to her have the best hypnotherapist, so you chose one for her, the one whose address sounded least desirable. Amber pretended to agree, then went home and booked an appointment with Ginny Saxon, her original preference. You also booked to see Ginny. Having steered Amber in the opposite direction, you decided to claim her first choice for yourself. You’d never thought about hypnosis until Amber mentioned it, but if it could help with insomnia . . .’

Jo started to moan and slam her back against the back of the chair. Simon repositioned himself between her and the table so that he could see her face. The keening grew louder, its pitch changing as she let her mouth fall open. What was she doing with her eyes?

‘What’s she doing?’ The solicitor sounded more disgusted than alarmed.

Simon raised his voice so that Jo would hear him over the noise she was making. ‘Ginny’s outside,’ he said. ‘If you talk to me, I won’t need to bring her in.’

‘What’s wrong with her? Why can’t she hold her head up?’

‘She can. She’s choosing not to.’

‘Why the hell would she . . . ?’

‘She’s pretending to be her mentally handicapped sister,’ said Simon.

‘How well do you know him?’ Ginny Saxon asked Charlie, eyeing the closed door of the interview room.

‘Better than anyone else does,’ said Charlie. ‘Not as well as most wives know their husbands.’

‘Simon Waterhouse is your husband?’ Ginny’s voice had changed; this was her wooden-hut-in-the-back-garden tone. Professional Ginny.

‘If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be your escort for the day. I’d be getting on with my own work.’

‘You’d be trying to help that man, perhaps – the one you described in your email.’

Charlie could have done without the smug, knowing tone. She looked away. ‘Him and others like him,’ she said.

‘Find the time, and make another appointment to see me,’ said Ginny.

No. I’m fine. And you cost too much.

‘I can help you. Both of you.’

‘You could have helped Simon sooner by telling him the truth about Jo Utting.’

‘He didn’t ask me sooner. When he did, I told him what he wanted to know, after I’d talked it through with my supervisor. Simon needs to learn to be more straightforward. He can’t expect me to volunteer confidential information about a patient without knowing the full context. Why didn’t he tell me Jo Utting was a suspect in a murder case?’

‘Two murder cases,’ Charlie corrected her.

‘Instead, he has Amber Hewerdine leave her car outside my house, hoping I’ll respond to his cryptic visual prompt by feeling guilty.’

‘You already felt guilty.’ Charlie hated it when she found herself quoting Simon. ‘That’s why you made sure to spell out your concerns about Jo’s behaviour in great detail, why you lost your cool with Amber and kicked her out. Your overreaction made no sense unless you were hiding something.’

‘Or unless I’m human,’ Ginny said. ‘Simon Waterhouse doesn’t know everything. Though I’ve clearly entered a dimension in which everyone assumes he does.’

‘You knew the information you were keeping to yourself mattered,’ said Charlie. ‘You can’t have forgotten that Simon was investigating a murder. There he was, giving up hours of his time to listen to you and Amber dissect Jo’s character in great detail. Don’t pretend you didn’t know she was a suspect.’

‘I didn’t
know
anything,’ said Ginny. ‘I wondered. If Simon was honest with himself, he’d admit that he also only wondered. Suspected. He can’t have
known
Jo Utting was a client of mine.’

‘He did. He’s good at putting things together, things no one else would think to connect: you throwing a fit and kicking him and Amber out, your diagnosis of Jo’s narcissistic personality disorder – made without having met her, allegedly.’ Charlie’s words sounded odd to her; she didn’t think of herself as a boastful wife.

‘What I told Simon was absolutely true,’ said Ginny. ‘It’s possible to identify a narcissist simply by listening to his or her victims. I’ve done it many times.’

‘Though, on this occasion, you’d met the narcissist herself,’ Charlie reminded her.

‘Yes, I had. My point is that Simon only
knew
that when he asked me and I told him two days ago. And if he thinks otherwise, he’s misleading himself. Which I suppose he must have been doing all his life. Children of highly dysfunctional parents learn very early on to mislead themselves. Anything’s better than facing the terrifying truth that you’re not safe in your own home, with the two people who are supposed to love you most in the world.’

On balance, Charlie preferred being told to fuck off by teenage drug dealers, which was what normally happened in the corridors of the nick. Unsolicited psychoanalysis was rare. And unpleasant, she was discovering. Technically, she thought, you’d probably have to call it psychoanalysis-in-law, since Simon was the focus.

‘The same children also learn to think and communicate cryptically,’ Ginny went on. ‘They become expert at reading signs, making sense of atmospheres. They pick up clues others would miss. They make great detectives, but they’re badly affected by life’s knock-backs because their sense of identity is so frail.’ She smiled a brave-face sort of smile that made Charlie feel like the victim of a terrible misfortune. ‘If Simon can’t get Jo Utting to confirm the story he’s telling himself about her – which, having met her, I don’t think he will – I’d expect him to experience depressive symptoms and express them in a manner that’s anything but straightforward.’

‘Why don’t you save your wisdom for your paying customers?’ Charlie said impassively.

‘All right. I’m sorry.’ Ginny looked upset. ‘If you don’t want my help, I’m not going to force it on you.’

Charlie knew better than to come out with every disintegrating lunatic’s favourite catchphrase: ‘I don’t need any help’. Instead, she said, ‘If Simon says he knew, then he knew. What he couldn’t work out was why someone with as many secrets as Jo would choose the same therapist as her sister-in-law. When we found out that Jo thought Amber had obediently gone elsewhere, it made more sense.’

The interview room door opened. Simon came out, shut it behind him. He didn’t look happy.

‘Change of plan?’ Ginny asked.

‘No. I need you to say what we agreed, even though—’ He broke off. Looked at Charlie as if he hoped she might take over.

‘Even though what?’ she said.

‘She’s faking mental impairment – either mimicking Kirsty or pretending to be her. Why would she do that?’ Simon demanded, eyeballing Ginny as if it was her fault. ‘Where does it get her that “No comment” wouldn’t?’