Blunt Force

by La Plante, Lynda

  Justine finished feeding the dogs, washed her hands carefully in the sink, before taking down coffee mugs and putting out milk, sugar and a plate of biscuits, then sitting down beside Jane.

  ‘I have been very busy,’ she said brightly. ‘I forced myself to make notes and think very clearly about my every move on the Monday before I went to visit Charles. Now, I know that you found a parking ticket from when I parked outside his flat, but I thought it would help if you also knew exactly what I had been doing before that.’

  She poured coffee for them both and Jane added milk to hers. Justine got up from the breakfast bar and went over by the draining board to pick up two sheets of notepaper.

  ‘Do help yourself to a biscuit,’ she said, as she sat down again. ‘Now, on Monday morning I made a big decision.’

  Suddenly Jane began to feel uneasy.

  ‘Where are your mother and Clara?’ she asked.

  ‘Mummy’s taken Clara to fetch some shopping. It’s quite a walk, but she felt it would be good for Clara to get some exercise.’ She squinted at the notepaper. ‘Now, I just said that I had made a decision that morning. I talked it over with George because I was anxious and I knew it was not going to be easy. This is where I have been untruthful because I know what I did was very wrong.’

  Jane sipped her coffee, waiting.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I did?’ Justine said, smiling.

  ‘Yes, of course, if you want to tell me.’

  ‘Well, I went into Charles’s bedroom and when I was searching his desk drawers, I found lots of little plastic bags of cocaine. I knew what it was because I’ve always known he used it. I planned to go to see him at his office, but when I called, they told me he was not available. It was lunchtime and I knew exactly where he would be.’ She glanced at Jane. ‘I knew he would sometimes see these dreadful women during a lunch break.’ She gave one of her high-pitched laughs. ‘Apparently he would sometimes go to this brothel several times in a single week. One could ask where got the energy from, but then he was very athletic.’

  ‘So, when you found out he wasn’t at his office, what did you do?’

  Justine shrugged. ‘Well, I planned to wait until he returned to the office.’

  Justine continued to calmly explain how she had put everything in her handbag and left the house to go to Kensington. She parked in the Harrods car park but said she had more than likely thrown the ticket away. However, she was sure that the security cameras would be able to confirm her arrival and departure time. She then went into Harrods and went up to the accounts floor as her account was outstanding and she settled it by cheque. While she was there she asked to use their telephone.

  Again, she assured Jane all this could be checked out because of the time she paid off her account. They allowed her to use one of the phones at the accounts desk and she called the agency but was told that Charles was not there. She then made a second call, this time to his flat. When he answered, she just replaced the receiver. By the time she collected her car from the car park, it was almost 3 p.m. Knowing Charles was at home, she decided that she would go through with her intention of telling him that he was no longer welcome at her home. If he persisted, she was going to sell the house and see a lawyer to discuss custody of Clara. She could then provide evidence that he was a drug user and that their daughter was not safe in his company.

  Jane glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was already half past twelve, but she didn’t want to stop Justine as she was still calm and giving Jane new and valuable information.

  ‘I knew Darren McDermott would handle the custody hearing. He’s a very experienced and respected QC; he is also a close family friend.’

  Jane nodded. ‘He certainly seemed to be very solicitous of your welfare.’

  Justine laughed. ‘You have no idea just how caring he is. I am sure she won’t mind me telling you this, but he was once my mother’s lover. She was an exceptionally beautiful woman then.’ She tossed her hair back. ‘I’ve always been told how fortunate I am to have inherited her looks. McDermott was deeply in love with her for many years.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, I digress . . . Where was I?’

  Jane sipped her coffee and had another uneasy feeling as Justine used a finger to go up and down the page of her notes.

  ‘Right, now then . . . I can’t give you the exact time I found a parking space. I didn’t know how long I was going to be there so I put in some change and I thought that it would be enough because it was about 3.45 p.m. My intention was to go and tell him exactly what I was going to do, then leave. I went in, and he seemed surprised to see me. I said we needed to have an adult conversation because I had reached a decision not only for myself, but for Clara. He laughed but when I continued to tell him my intentions, he said that even if I attempted to get full custody, he would be able to prove that I was mentally unstable. At that point, I opened my handbag and told him I could prove that he was a cocaine addict and that he was also stuffing himself with amphetamines.’

  Justine picked up a pencil and began to scribble on the page as she described how he had laughed and told her that he could consume any amount of drugs and still functional normally. He tipped out the contents of the cocaine and used a bank note to snort up a line in front of her.

  ‘“There, you see,” he said to me. “You don’t stand a hope in hell of ever getting rid of me, and if you attempt to stop my access to Clara, I will have you certified.”’ Justine’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He would drive me mad like that because he could be vicious and cruel, but then he would become like a child, needing me to care for him, and that’s why I always forgave him. But on this occasion I waited because I was hoping the combination of what I put into the cocaine would quieten him down.’

  Jane held up her hand. ‘What did you mean by “combination”?’

  ‘I crushed up my sleeping tablets and mixed it with the cocaine.’

  Jane looked up from her notes. ‘When you went to see him at his flat, do you remember what he was wearing?’

  Justine screwed up her face. ‘Well, I think he was wearing his jeans, because he almost always was, his trainers and a white shirt – in fact, rather an expensive one, with one of those priest collars, not a button-down – and he wasn’t wearing a tie.’

  Justine got up from her stool, fetched the coffee pot and refilled their mugs.

  ‘I left the flat and, as you know, the parking ticket shows that I was fined at five fifteen p.m. I drove from Kensington straight home and I have only just remembered that when I got there, Abby, my cleaner, was waiting. I had forgotten to pay her on the Friday. I asked if she could come with me to the nearest cash machine and I withdrew enough to pay her wages and for me for the rest of the week. When we returned, Abby finished some ironing and left. I then went to bed.’

  Jane could hardly believe it. If everything Justine was saying could be verified, she had an alibi for the time of her ex-husband’s murder.

  Justine picked up her coffee mug and smiled. ‘Perhaps we could sit in more comfort in the drawing room as I’d like a cigarette.’

  *

  Spencer had grabbed himself a sandwich and a coffee to eat at his desk and was intending to write up a report of his interview with Simon Quinn. As he walked into the incident room, he was surprised to see DI Miller.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be interviewing Justine Harris, sir?’

  ‘Yes, but not until three p.m. That pompous twat Darren McDermott has put the meeting back because he has an urgent situation at his fucking chambers. He should be collecting me any minute.’

  Spencer put his coffee down and checked the time. ‘Hang on a minute, sir, did anyone talk to Tennison? The last time I saw her, she was on her way to meet with you at Justine Harris’s home.’

  On the other side of the room DC Dors put up his hand. ‘Guv, I put in a call to the agency to speak to Tennison but I was told you had both already left, so I presumed someone must have got in contact.’

  Spe
ncer glared at him. ‘You fucking presumed? What the hell is going on here? She left around eleven thirty this morning and was getting the Underground to be sure she got to the interview for midday. Has anyone been in touch with her? I mean, does this Justine bitch know the meeting isn’t going ahead until three p.m.?’ Spencer turned his attention to Miller. ‘Tennison has gone to see her, and you, of all people’ – he pointed at him – ‘know what Justine Harris is capable of doing.’

  Miller looked as if he was about to give Spencer a dressing down, then reined himself in. ‘Get a patrol car and get straight over there. In the meantime, call the house and see if Tennison is there . . . and then contact Barnes police station and ask them to get over there urgently and check on Tennison’s safety.’

  Spencer ran down the stairs two at a time, banging the door out into the yard. He collared one of the uniformed drivers and got the keys to drive, shouting at him to inform DI Miller he was on his way to Justine Harris’s.

  *

  Jane followed Justine into the drawing room, carrying her fresh cup of coffee. She could see from the clock on the mantelpiece that it was already ten to one. She thought she should call the station to check what was happening. Just as she was about to ask if she could use the phone, she noticed a large white envelope on the coffee table. It had been sealed shut with Sellotape and had a pink ribbon tied around it. In large loopy writing on the front was the word ‘Mummy’.

  Justine frowned and untied the ribbon. ‘This is odd,’ she said, crossing over to the mantelpiece. She stared hard at the envelope in her left hand as she patted along the mantelpiece with her right hand. Then to Jane’s horror Justine held up a silver dagger. ‘I bought this in a bazaar in Morocco when I was filming there three years ago,’ she said, waving it in the air. ‘The blade’s terribly sharp, so I always keep it high up here on the mantelpiece, out of Clara’s reach.’

  Jane pushed her back further into the chair as Justine continued to wave the dagger around. She could feel a rising sense of panic and tried to take some deep breaths unobtrusively as Elliott had taught her.

  Justine quickly slit open the envelope, slicing through the Sellotape. She looked up at Jane as she placed the dagger back in its sheath and tossed it towards her.

  ‘Have a look, it’s really beautifully carved.’

  Jane felt swamped with relief as she held the ornate dagger. Justine sat on the edge of the sofa opposite her, smiling broadly.

  *

  Spencer, with sirens blaring and lights flashing, drove as if he was competing in a Formula One race, at top speed, sometimes on the wrong side of the road, other times mounting the kerb to avoid traffic. He was heading for the Hammersmith Bridge but there was no possibility of him overtaking the line of traffic crossing the bridge in single file. As he reached the traffic lights he shot through the red light and overtook vehicles heading towards the right-hand turn for Barnes. Any ill-feeling he had had towards Jane over the situation with the models had dissolved; all he was concerned about was her safety.

  *

  Justine pulled out two letters from the envelope. The first one was on lined notepaper and written in a childish scrawl. She read it then placed it to one side and unfolded the second letter.

  ‘My God, how could she do this?’

  Jane looked at her questioningly.

  ‘It’s from my mother. Listen to this: “Dear darling Justine, I am sorry for the subterfuge, but for a while I have felt this is not the atmosphere for Clara to be living in. I am constantly on edge and worried for her, and also for you. I have therefore decided to take my granddaughter home to live with me in my house. This is for her benefit and I will be talking to her headmistress about these arrangements.”’

  Justine glanced across at Jane with an empty look on her face, and then back down at the letter.

  ‘“I have contacted dear George and he will hopefully be with you shortly.”’

  The telephone rang and Justine stood up and crossed to the drawing-room door, yanking it open. She picked up the phone, screamed ‘Fuck off!’ then slammed the receiver down. When she walked back into the room, her whole demeanour had changed. Her eyes were wild and she was grimacing as if she had eaten something sour.

  ‘I knew that would be my mother. That bloody two-faced, interfering woman . . . The stupid cow has been wanting to take my daughter for years and now she thinks she has the right to move her out of my home – my daughter’s home. Well, I won’t let her get away with it.’

  Jane eased herself forward in the seat. ‘You know, Justine, perhaps it might be for the best at the moment. You are going to be re-questioned this afternoon and maybe your mother is just trying to keep Clara away from anything upsetting.’

  ‘My mother is a complete bitch. She was always more glamorous, better educated and more sophisticated than me. She’s been competing with me my entire life and now she has taken away the only thing that makes my life worth living.’

  Jane watched as Justine went over to the mantelpiece and began patting along it with her hand again, knocking over an ormolu clock and a china figurine.

  She turned to Jane. ‘Where is my knife? Where is my knife?’

  Jane didn’t dare get up. She had slid the dagger down the side of the chair cushion and now watched as Justine became more and more uncontrolled. She was moving in rapid, jerky steps, backwards and forward. Jane knew she had to calm her but she didn’t want to give Justine the opportunity to find the knife.

  Jane reached for her coffee mug. ‘Justine, you are one of the most beautiful women I have met in my life. When you came into my office, I said to myself you reminded me of Faye Dunaway.’

  Justine seemed to heave for breath.

  ‘It was that film . . . you remember that film? What was that film called, Justine?’

  ‘Bonnie and Clyde,’ Justine said, nodding. ‘I’ve been told that before, you know, that I look like her, but I gave up my career when I got married. My mother always told me that I should have never even considered marrying him.’ She gave one of her strange high-pitched laughs. ‘Probably because she wanted him for herself . . . That’s how she was, my mother.’

  Jane desperately wanted to get her off the subject of her mother. Although Justine’s movements were no longer as jerky, she was still pacing. Jane wanted to buy time to enable her to get out of the room. She slowly stood up, certain the knife was well hidden, and kept up deep, steady breathing to maintain control.

  ‘Do you have any photograph albums of when you were acting? I’d love to see pictures of the productions you were in.’

  ‘Oh, please . . . don’t be so patronising,’ Justine sneered. ‘I’m sure you have no interest in my career. I have explained to you that I had nothing to do with my ex-husband’s murder, but I don’t think you believe me . . . You’re just like everyone else. You don’t believe everything I remembered about where I was and what I did. Just as I was beginning to trust you. Now you’re trying to convince me that I look like a movie star just to calm me down. What you don’t understand is, I could have been a star.’

  The sound of the police siren cut through the room. For a second the noise distracted Justine and she turned in a panic towards the window. The siren came closer, along with the blue flashing light, then the front door was being hammered. Spencer screamed out for Jane. She was now in a position to make a run from the drawing room into the hall, as Spencer kicked out the stained-glass panel in the front door. He reached in to open it then ran towards her. There was a look of such relief on his face that it was almost comical.

  ‘Christ, Jane, are you all right?’

  She was so thankful to see him that she almost wept. ‘I’m fine, but Justine is out of control. She’s in there . . .’

  ‘You just stay where you are.’ Spencer walked cautiously into the drawing room. Justine was sitting at the piano.

  ‘I’m going to play you my favourite piece. I achieved Grade Eight when I was seven.’ She began to play
the ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

  Spencer stopped in his tracks. He looked over to Jane, who was standing in the doorway.

  She said, very quietly, ‘There is a silver sheathed dagger down the side of the cushion in the armchair opposite the sofa.’

  Spencer moved further into the room as Justine continued playing. Spencer retrieved the dagger and returned to join Jane in the hall, shutting the door behind him.

  The dogs had been barking frantically from the moment Spencer had hammered on the front door. He put a call into the station to say that DS Tennison was with him at the Barnes property and they would be waiting there with Justine Harris until DI Miller and Darren McDermott arrived.

  Spencer went into the kitchen and placed the dagger in a plastic bag he found in a drawer.

  ‘You think this may be the weapon used to disembowel Foxley?’

  Jane shrugged. ‘It’s possible. Lawrence should check it for any blood residue.’

  Spencer found a dustpan and brush to sweep up the broken glass from inside the front door.

  Justine stopped playing the piano just as DI Miller, accompanied by Darren McDermott, arrived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  McDermott went in to sit with Justine. She was calm but tearful, repeating to him that her mother had taken Clara and that was the reason she had become so upset. Meanwhile, Jane sat with a very tense DI Miller in the kitchen. He was reading Justine’s account of where she had been on the Monday afternoon of the murder and kept on glancing irritably towards the dogs, who had returned to their respective baskets.

  He tapped Justine’s list. ‘Do you believe all this? Don’t you think it’s strange that she didn’t say this in the interview at the station?’

  ‘Well,’ Jane said, ‘she has made it very clear that we can double-check everything. It gives her quite a strong alibi if we take the time of death to be early that evening.’