Who Killed Jimbo Jameson? (9 page)

“My mother was a visiting nurse and we realised that she had looked after his mother for a while. He absolutely loved his mum and was very protective of her and made sure that she had round-the-clock care, but he didn't cope well with her death. He didn't cope well with sickness either. He didn't cope well with anything that reminded him that he was getting old.

“I think I fell in love with him because of the tenderness and gentleness in him, especially when I saw him with his mother. And with his dogs. God, he loved those sooky dogs.” She shook her head and smiled.

“My dad told me that anyone who loves dogs can't be all bad. And I saw beyond the public image, and the James that I fell in love with was totally different to the Jimbo that everyone thought they knew.” The two fur balls leapt onto her lap, circled, and settled down.

“We kept our wedding…No, we kept our relationship a secret because he was a bit embarrassed about having such a bad marriage record and, to be truthful, I really didn't think that it's anybody's business what I do in my private life.” She nibbled on a chocolate biscuit. “Yum. I love these. I'm going to get sooo fat.”

Not bloody likely.

“Where was I? Oh, yes. He talked me into marrying him and keeping it our secret because he said that would be romantic. But after the wedding I found out that he was still seeing other women, and I realised that he really didn't want anyone to know that we were married. I
felt that he was ashamed of me. And then there was a big party for his fiftieth birthday and I wasn't seated at his table.” She fiddled with the gold watch and lowered her eyes.

“That was around when the press discovered that we were married, but he was still denying it. That night was so humiliating. I felt that everyone was looking at me and wondering what was so wrong with me that he couldn't admit to marrying me. That I couldn't even sit with him for such an important occasion. That was the beginning of the end for us.

“And then his mother started having strokes and he lost the plot and really started to drink again. There were times when I'd come home and he was passed out in the living room. Once, he fell in the fish pond and almost drowned.”

Victoria leaned back and closed her eyes. “I was travelling a lot for the television program and was in London when I realised that I was pregnant. I'd had all sorts of problems and thought that I couldn't have children, so I was over the moon. Anyway, the interview wrapped ahead of schedule so I decided to come back home a day early and surprise James. Big mistake.” She looked at me, and continued.

“I walked in on him and Lynnette asleep in our bed and I just turned around and kept on walking to my best friend's house. Then the next day he was told that his mother was dying, so he got drunk and jumped on a plane to Los Angeles, which was what he did whenever he had to face reality. I had to step back into the picture to look after his mother. She died two days later, but we couldn't find James. Suzie, his poor PA, was in tears.

“Eventually we found him holed up in a health resort but every time we scheduled her funeral we had to postpone it because he wouldn't get on a plane to come back to Sydney. He had her kept on ice until he came home nearly three weeks later. That poor woman! She adored him. She worshipped him. And he left her to die alone and then he had her put in a refrigerator until he sobered up.” She dabbed her eyes and continued.

“When I saw Lynnette hanging off him at the funeral I knew that I couldn't stay married to him. I told him that I was pregnant and he asked me who the father was, and that was when I realised he truly was a monster. I told him I was leaving him, and he went berserk and hit me in the stomach with his fist. He hit me and hit me and hit me.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “He told me he would kill me if I didn't have an abortion, and I believed him. I know what he'd had done to Nick Wells.

“That was when I knew that I couldn't continue the pregnancy because I couldn't be responsible for continuing that insane DNA.

“So first I had an abortion and then I had a nervous breakdown and did some pretty silly things that I regret now.” A single tear trickled down her cheek. “And then I took a year off and worked out what I really want from life, and who I really am.” She looked around with a smile. “I know what I need to live a good life and I know what makes me happy. I know that James was a terrible mistake but I learned a lot from that mistake. I prefer not to think about that time because he represented such a small part of my life and I have so much happiness and love now.

“There was a time when I could have cheerfully killed him. And that bloody tramp Lynnette. Now's she's a real piece of work.” She gave a rueful smile and shook her head. “I think they were truly co-dependent and I know that they both deserved each other.

“At times I felt sorry for her, especially when he dumped her after their second wedding and shacked up with an office temp who ended up even crazier than me! That was Deirdre. He didn't marry her, but he ruined her health and her life. They had two kids, and he left her when she was pregnant. She eventually went back to England and took an overdose. I don't know what happened with her children.

“He made a habit of getting his women pregnant and then either pressuring them to have abortions or leaving them when they were most vulnerable. And then he disappears for a couple of years with his new love, and then complains when the kids don't want to see him when he finally decides that he wants to be superdad.

“I'm sorry that James is dead, but I'm also sorry that I can't help you other than to tell you that he was a very complex man who generated intense feelings in many, many people. I always thought that he would end up dying in a pub brawl or at the bottom of a cliff or in a car wrapped around a tree.”

I found my voice. “But can you think of anyone who could have actually killed him or had someone do it? Was there anyone who you can think of who is capable of that?”

Victoria cuddled one of the dogs, and looked at me. “Anyone who really knew James is capable of eventually wanting to kill him. There were times when I could have, if I thought I could get away with it. Perhaps he just pushed someone too far. He did that so easily. When
he was drinking he was unpredictable. I'd have to walk on eggshells, and it turned me into a nervous wreck. He did some wonderfully generous, unselfish things for people, but he could be a complete bastard to others.

“I've been asked to put together something on him for the magazine, but I don't want to do it. James lived his life to the full and without rules, and now someone has killed him. Perhaps he deserved it. Who knows? And who am I to judge? All I know is that it wasn't me and I don't know who did it.” The Labrador stood up and climbed onto the sofa next to Jack. She buried her nose in his lap and sighed. I added the dog to my hate list.

“And for the record, I was with my mother all day on Friday until she died just before midnight. She was buried yesterday, and Honey was her dog. We both miss her.”

chapter fourteen.

The next person we had to talk to was Anna Jameson, wife number six. Boo had painted a picture of a cold, calculating control freak. And she was right.

Anna Jameson was tightly coiled, perfectly groomed and very, very beautiful in a “don't even think of touching” sort of way. She led Constable Jack and me into a small room off the large entrance hall and left us there for ten minutes. No explanation. Not even a glass of water.

Normally, I would have used the time to check out my surroundings: I learn a lot from observing how other people live and from their display of personal items. But this room told me nothing. Clinically clean. The wallpaper was white gloss on matte white. The furniture was white. Even the carpet was white – well, cream – but there were no stains or traffic areas. No magazines, newspapers, books or photographs, although there were tasteful groups of anonymous objects displayed on the matched side-tables. Compared to this room, the morgue was a toy shop.

Did three children actually live within 100 metres of this room? Were they kept in a parallel universe? Jack looked uncomfortable as he sat on the white, self-striped lounge, checked the soles of his shoes twice and wiped his hands on his trousers. Some neatnik must have really freaked him out at one stage of his life.

I kicked myself that I had walked around that pile of dog shit on the footpath.

The ex-Mrs Jameson entered the room and sat in the chair opposite me. She was dressed for tennis, bronzed to perfection and sparkling with diamonds. Diamond ear-rings, diamond rings and a diamond bracelet. Were these what you call “tennis diamonds”? Crossing her long, shiny legs, she leaned back and looked at me coolly. “And what can I do for you, detective?”

You can get me a blanket before I get frost-bite, I thought, but was too chicken to say it. I decided that I would out-freeze her with a display of professionalism. “Thank you for your time, Mrs Jameson. As you are no doubt aware, we're investigating the death of your ex-husband, James Jameson, and would appreciate any assistance you can give. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but perhaps you know of someone who would have wanted him dead?” She stared at me with ice-cold, pale grey eyes, and I felt the temperature drop even further. “Really, detective. How fascinating. And what on earth do you think I can possibly tell
you?”

I swallowed hard, and leaned forward. “We hope you can tell us if you know of anyone who would want to kill him. Who would want to shoot him. Although we're still waiting on the medical report, we can say that your ex-husband was shot three times, which you probably already know.” No reaction.

“Could you please tell me when was the last time you saw Mr Jameson?”

“The last time I saw my ex-husband was two hours after our divorce was granted. I accidentally passed him in the hallway of the Family Court.”

“And that was...?”

“Twenty-ninth of August 2008. At approximately 4.20pm. I told myself that I would never speak to him again, and I've kept that promise.”

“Now, what we would like to know is…” She interrupted me. “Thank you for coming, detective, constable, but I can't help you. I don't know people who own guns and I have no idea who killed him. Perhaps you could talk to some of his more unhappy business associates. Perhaps you could talk to some of his mistresses or his girlfriends. I would definitely check his drug dealers. You could also try asking his boyfriends. Just ask at the nearest bath house. Some are certainly unhappy and some of them are definitely from the wrong side of the Pacific Highway and would no doubt be on intimate terms with people who shoot other people.” She stood up.

“And now, I have to get back to my children. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to talk with my solicitors. I'll ask them to contact you. Thank you for coming.”

And with that, we were shown the door.

chapter fifteen.

The door closed behind us. Brushing the icicles off my sleeves, I looked across at Constable Jack. “Holy shit, Sherlock. Let's get back to civilisation and thaw out. I need a fix of something warm and friendly.”

“So what was that all about?” he asked. “That was one cold woman. How on earth did they get close enough to have children? What on earth did he see in her? What was he thinking? She is horrible.”

Well, at least I know what you don't like, lover boy.

“Beats me. I just feel sorry for the kids. Are you sure they actually exist or are they part of a story to make people think she has a heart? And what does she mean by ‘wrong side of the Pacific Highway'?”

As we drove back over the Bridge I had a chance to think about where the case was going. So far, we had nothing. Jimbo had an interesting collection of ex-wives – but I didn't think any of them had killed him. Apart from having alibis for the Friday afternoon, the personalities were wrong. Jacqueline was too stupid. Bethany too religious. Victoria too nice. Anna too controlled. Tessa was saving the world in Somalia, we still hadn't talked to the one in Connecticut and Lynnette was still in Bangkok.

The business world either loved him or hated him, depending on which side of the balance sheet you were looking at. He had made and broken politicians, ruined reputations and created economic heroes. He had populated the world with abandoned children, discarded wives and disappointed lovers.

Perhaps the universe had stepped in to correct a horrible mistake.

I settled back and checked my phone as we drove back to the war room. Not bad. Only forty-three messages since 9am, mostly spam and messages from people I didn't want to talk to. I was starting to hate my iPhone.

Coffee first. Then work.

Christian was leaving the Trop as we arrived, but he came over for a hug.

“Oh, gorgeous girl. You're looking tense.” His strong surgeon hands caressed my shoulders. “Let Doctor Chris give you a massage. Yes?”