I hesitated, but I couldn’t risk Tony calling the police. It would hardly help my case, if I were found pestering a potential witness at midnight. Such desperation was bound to suggest that I was afraid because I had something to hide. Muttering a curse, I turned away, bitterly disappointed in Katie. As I drove home, I realised that it couldn't be left like that. I had to confront her and clear up any misunderstanding. She worked in a school only a few miles from my house, so I resolved to go there first thing in morning and speak to her.
The next day I left home early to speak to Katie. I waited for her, fretting at the reception desk after she was summoned, but she didn't appear.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Barrett,’ the school secretary said at last. ‘I’m afraid Katie’s tied up. Our teachers are generally very busy during the school day. Can anyone else help you?’
Peering up at me through the thick lenses of her glasses, she raised her eyebrows slightly when I shook my head.
‘Would you like to make an appointment. What did you say your child’s full name is?’
‘Oh no, I’m not a parent. That is, I am, but I don't have a child at the school. My son’s seventeen. Katie's a friend of mine and I need to speak to her urgently.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated, more coldly this time, ‘but she’s not able to speak to you right now. If she's a friend of yours, perhaps you could call her this evening?’
‘Can I at least leave a message for her? Please ask her to call me. And tell her it's urgent.’
‘I told her that you’re here, and you're very anxious to see her, but she said she knows what this is about, and she can't spare you any time today. I really don't know what else you want me to say.’
With a shrug, the secretary turned away. Short of running around scouring the premises for Katie, and probably being thrown out by security, or the police, there was nothing more to be done, so I left.
As I walked back to my car, I reminded myself that whatever happened, I had to behave normally. But that was becoming increasingly difficult. I no longer knew what it felt like to be normal.
8
The police were waiting for me when I arrived home, their car parked outside my house. After watching me go through my gate, a man and a woman followed me. Tall and lithe, the man moved quickly to reach my side before I had crossed the threshold, while a dark-haired woman strode at his heels.
‘Julie Barrett?’ He held up his identity card and introduced himself as Detective Inspector James Morgan. ‘This is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Mary Cooper.’
The woman nodded, poker-faced.
‘Is this about my husband?’
‘Yes,’ the Detective Inspector replied. ‘We’re very sorry about your loss, Mrs Barrett, but if you’d like to accompany us to the police station, we can arrange alternative accommodation for you and your son if necessary, or perhaps there’s a relative or a friend you can stay with?’
‘Alternative accommodation?’ I repeated stupidly.
‘Just while we take a look inside your house.’
‘Where is your son now?’ the sergeant asked.
I wasn't sure whether they were entitled to refuse me permission to enter my own house, but there was nothing to gain from being obstructive, and it was important to act as though I had done nothing wrong.
‘My son’s visiting his grandparents in Scotland. We arranged it months ago,’ I added, feeling I needed to explain why he had gone away at such a time. ‘We thought it would help them, and I thought it would be good for him to get away for a while, have a change of scene.’ It sounded lame, but it was the truth.
‘Please, come with us.’
‘What’s this about?’
‘You know why we’re here. Now, please, we’d like you to accompany us to the police station.’
‘Do I have a choice?’ I muttered.
‘We would like to ask you a few questions about your husband’s death.’
‘I’ve told you everything I know, I don’t understand,’ I spluttered, doing my best to look surprised.
Katie was right. The police suspected I had killed my husband.
The Detective Inspector gazed steadily at me, his grey eyes unblinking. He was around my age, with hair beginning to turn white on his temples, and a face creased with laughter lines. Under other circumstances I would have found him attractive, but the situation was terrifying. I had to think quickly. Assuming my husband really had been murdered, if the police discovered I had known about Paul’s affair, they might suspect I had killed him in a fit of jealous rage.
‘What do you mean, you think he was murdered?’ I asked, trying to stall them while I considered what to do. ‘I need to speak to a lawyer...’
But the time for discussion had run out. A whole team of officers clad head to foot in white suits joined us by the door, looking as though they had just stepped out of a science fiction film. I trembled at the harsh reality of what was happening.
The Detective Inspector held out his hand. ‘May I have the key, Mrs. Barrett?’ It wasn’t a question.
The Detective Sergeant spoke, and it took me a moment to process what she was saying.
‘A search warrant?’ I repeated. ‘What for?’
‘We need to look around your house,’ she replied patiently.
‘I don't understand. Paul’s gone. They took him away. They took the bedding. They emptied his drawers. There's nothing left-’
‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ the inspector said quietly.
‘No, no, go away, all of you,’ I burst out, shocked that these strangers intended to poke about inside my house. ‘I just lost my husband. Please, leave me alone.’
Trembling with fear at what they might find, I was powerless to prevent them from conducting their search. The two detectives were very kind about it. The sergeant drove me to the police station where she sat me down and made me a mug of tea while out of sight a team of white-suited officers were busy rummaging through my belongings. At least Dan wasn't there to witness this intrusion into our privacy. That would have just about finished him off.
‘They won’t move anything in my son’s room, will they?’ I asked with a sudden tremor of anxiety. ‘He’s very particular about his things. He suffers from OCD and when he feels stressed he refuses to eat. We manage his condition, but it can be quite serious, and he’s already out of his routine. He had to be hospitalised a couple of years ago when he refused to eat, and something like this could set him off again.’
‘When is he due home from his grandparents in Scotland?’
‘A couple of weeks.’
The Detective Sergeant nodded. ‘That’s just as well then. I’ll make sure nothing in his room is disturbed. Don’t worry.’
I didn’t respond to her facile comment. She might as well have told me not to breathe. We sat waiting for what felt like a very long time until at last the inspector appeared.
‘Just a few questions, Mrs. Barrett,’ he said, sitting down, ‘and then you can go. Is there somewhere you can stay?’
‘How long is this going to take?’ I asked. ‘And when can I go home and collect my things?’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible today.’
‘What do you mean? Why not? It’s my house.’
It was ironic that now the house belonged to me alone, I was locked out of it.
‘It is currently being treated as a crime scene.’
‘A crime scene?’
‘Yes. Is there anywhere you can stay for tonight? I assure you that you’ll be allowed back home as soon as possible, but these forensic investigations can take a few days.’
‘If it's just for a night or two, I’ve got a friend who’ll put me up.’
Once I had assured them I needed no help from them to arrange my accommodation for that night at least, the detectives said they would like to ask me a few questions. I sat in a small room at the police station, sipping lukewarm tea, and they sat watching me drink, until I felt as though I had been drinki
ng tea in front of my silent watchers for hours.
‘There is just one small point we’d like to clear up with you, Mrs. Barrett,’ the Detective Inspector said at last.
He spoke casually, but I was instantly on my guard, aware that Paul’s death had placed me in a precarious position. I tried to sound confident in my answer, but I could hear my voice shaking. The detectives must have noticed it too.
‘I did call the doctor as soon as I knew Paul was dead. Of course, I did.’
It was imperative I behaved as though I had never stumbled on Paul’s adultery, but it was hard to pretend I was still in love with him when I hated him more than anyone else I had ever known. People say love and hate are closely related. That’s a lie. Love is an overriding generosity that makes you smile on strangers as friends. My hatred for Paul was a barren passion. I was a robot programmed only to protect myself and my son, a machine for survival. Other people had been reduced to mere obstacles in my path. I had never felt so desperate before, or so strong.
‘Your husband had been dead for nearly eleven hours by the time you called the doctor,’ the Detective Inspector said quietly.
‘I phoned them as soon as I found him. That is, it might have been a few minutes before I phoned, but I was too shocked to do anything at first.’
He looked thoughtful, no doubt analysing everything I said.
‘What did you do for those few minutes between discovering the body and calling the doctor?’
‘I can't remember. I don't think I did anything. I think I just cried. And I remember shaking his shoulder and shouting at him to wake up.’
‘You didn't try to resuscitate him?’
‘He was dead. I could tell there was no point, even if I’d known what to do, which I didn't. All I knew was that he was dead. What difference would it have made to him if I didn't get to phone straight away?’ I added, trying to sound him out in case he discovered the delay had been considerably longer than a few minutes.
‘My problem is the time of death was around midnight, yet you didn't call the doctor until ten to eleven the following morning.’
‘I had to give my son a lift to school,’ I explained. ‘I was focused on that. He had to have some breakfast before he went to school. He struggles to eat when he’s stressed. And my friend came over to collect her coat. She'd left it in the taxi the previous evening.’
When I had given my initial statement to a constable, she hadn't reacted to my account. Now, the inspector’s expression gave nothing away. It was unnerving. I would almost have preferred it if he had looked sceptical. When people lie they talk too much, so I dropped my gaze and waited, while the two detectives stared at me in silence.
‘Is there anything more you'd like to tell us?’ the Detective Inspector asked after a few minutes.
I shook my head. ‘What do you want to know?’
The Detective Inspector was abruptly called away, leaving me with the Detective Sergeant and a constable standing by the door.
‘How would you describe your relations with your husband?’ the Detective Sergeant asked in a low soft voice that seemed to promise discretion.
I wondered if the Detective Inspector’s summons had been genuine. Probably they thought I would be more likely to confide in another woman.
‘He was my husband. We were married for nineteen years. It would have been twenty this year. You don’t stay together for that long if you don’t want to be with each other.’
Realising I was sounding defensive, I shut my mouth. I had to be careful not to show my true feelings about Paul. Words spoken cannot be unsaid, and these detectives noticed everything.
‘I hate to have to press you at a time like this, but we do need to ask these questions.’ She gave me an encouraging smile. ‘Were you happily married?’
‘Yes. We were happy together.’
I hoped my answer didn’t sound wooden. It was true that we had been happy together once. It wasn’t my fault if that had changed.
When the Detective Inspector returned and told me I was free to leave, I struggled to maintain my calm expression. The questioning had been gentle, but it had still felt to me like an interrogation. And all the time a desperate part of me wanted to shout out the truth, that I had hated my husband and was glad he was dead. It was no more than he deserved.
‘We’d like you to let us know where you’re staying,’ the Detective Inspector added as I stood up. ‘Just in case we need to get hold of you.’
I walked out of there as quickly as I could.
9
Although I hadn’t seen the inside of a cell, I felt as though I had been locked up for hours. Leaving the claustrophobic atmosphere of the police station, I breathed in deeply, the cool evening air welcome after my hot tiring day. Calling a cab, instead of giving the driver Nina’s address, I directed him to the nearest Travelodge which was a couple of miles away, near Northolt station. Without spare clothes or toiletries, I wanted to stay somewhere I could be on my own and not have to field any more questions. Nina would lend me whatever I needed, but I had talked enough for one day. I could hardly accept her hospitality and then insist on being left alone.
The young man at reception handed over a key with an impersonal smile. That suited me. I wanted to be anonymous, left alone to work out what to do. After pretending to listen to his patter about checking out, I made my way along the corridor. The hotel room was clean, with a firm comfortable bed, and the only noise was the gentle hum of passing traffic. I was so exhausted, I thought I would be able to sleep anywhere but, as soon as I lay down, my mind raced. It might have been the stress of everything that had happened, or just the result of drinking too much tea, but I couldn't settle.
Abandoning my attempt to sleep, I called Stella to ask about Dan. I didn’t tell her the police were investigating the possibility that Paul had been murdered. As quickly as I could, I shifted the focus of our conversation away from me. When I asked her how she and my father-in-law were doing, she broke down, admitting tearfully that they were finding it hard to believe that Paul was dead. I said I knew exactly how she felt, although that wasn’t true. I hadn’t struggled to accept that Paul was dead even for a moment, perhaps because I had seen his cold corpse. Dan seemed to be coping, she told me, but he couldn’t talk to me just then as he and his grandfather were out getting fish and chips.
After ringing off I lay back on the bed and tried to rest. The mention of fish and chips had made me realise how hungry I was. All I had eaten since the morning was a biscuit at the police station, but I was too tired to go out and look for something.
When the phone rang again, I answered at once expecting to hear Dan’s voice, but it was Nina calling to ask how I was. I didn’t tell her that I had been turfed out of my house. Somehow since Paul’s death I seemed to be lying to everyone.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ she asked me.
I assured her that I was fine. Another lie.
‘The police came here to see me,’ she said, and paused. ‘They seem to think someone killed him.’ She paused again. ‘They’ll understand, you know, after what he did to you. If you tell them.’
‘What do you mean? Who’s going to understand what?’
‘Anyone would understand if you lost it in a fit of jealous rage. No one would blame you. I’m here, whatever happens.’
The realisation that Nina thought I had killed my husband shocked me so much I was speechless for a moment. What possible hope was there that the police would believe my protestations of innocence, if my two best friends thought I was guilty?
‘I didn’t do it, Nina. You have to believe me.’
When she assured me that she did, I wasn’t sure if I believed her.
‘You’ve got to be practical,’ she went on. ‘Most important, you need to find yourself a good lawyer, in case the police arrest you. It’s a possibility, so you really need to think about getting your defence together. And don’t worry about Dan. He can come and stay with me if you need someone to lo
ok after him.’
‘What are you talking about? Paul’s death makes no difference to Dan and me.’
‘I’m talking about if...’ She hesitated. ‘If you have to go away for a while. I’m only saying in case. I’m not suggesting you’re going to need it, but you ought to be prepared.’
‘You really think they’re going to arrest me for murder? Is that what you’re saying?’
I could feel waves of hysteria rising in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe, but I managed to keep my voice steady.
‘No one is taking Dan away from me,’ I said.
‘No, no, of course not. That’s not what I meant at all. I don’t want to take Dan away from you. No one wants that. And we won’t let the police come between you either. I only meant I’ll look after him while you’re, you know, being investigated, if that’s necessary.’
Her insistence that I shouldn’t worry did nothing to calm me. On the contrary, I felt as though the nightmare was closing in around me. In all my confusion, only one thing remained clear in my mind: none of this was going to have any impact on Dan and me. He had already lost his father. He would never survive the shock of losing me as well. So, I thanked Nina for her support, and hung up. I was more determined than ever to extricate myself from my plight before Dan came home. I had two weeks.
To my surprise I slept well after that and woke up in the morning ravenous and thinking clearly. Paul had inexplicably dropped dead. I had to get past my emotional shock and work out what to do. As far as I knew, there was no obvious reason for his death, so the police suspected he might have been the victim of foul play. It was their job to think the worst of everyone, just in case some ostensibly innocent person turned out to be a murderer. It wasn't as if murderers flagged up their guilt. But at the same time, it was a lazy solution to the problem of why Paul had died. What they should have been doing was discovering what had really happened to him. So far, events had unfolded around me with a sickening inevitability. It was time for me to take control of my own fate, which meant it might be down to me to discover the true cause of Paul's death to prove my innocence.
The Adulterer's Wife: a breathtaking psychological thriller Page 5
