Blue Murder

by Staincliffe, Cath

Lesley’s mouth opened in surprise, her brow creased. ‘Who?’

  ‘Dean Hendrix. You know him?’ Janine stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

  ‘No, erm … no, I don’t.’ Lesley turned back to the worktop.

  ‘He lives locally, you may know him by sight. Matthew never mentioned a Dean to you?’

  ‘No,’ over her shoulder.

  ‘What about a Ronald Prosser?’

  A tensing of the shoulders. ‘No.’ She began to cut the loaf.

  Janine didn’t believe her. ‘We’ll be interviewing Dean Hendrix this morning. Is there anything you want to tell me, Lesley?’

  Lesley stopped, turned, met her gaze. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think you know.’

  Lesley’s lip curled with disgust. ‘No.’ Her tone became more aggressive. ‘Do you enjoy this? Does it make you feel clever? Insulting me, trying to dirty my name?’ She faced Janine, the knife in her hand. ‘How would you like it? If someone kept on and on at you?’ Her eyes glittered with emotion. ‘On and on – nasty little minds.’

  Janine’s phone broke the tension. She watched as Lesley steadied herself against the counter then returned to her preparations while Janine listened.

  ‘Janine? It’s Richard. Dean Hendrix, we made a mistake. We know he was there but he can’t have used the knife. He’s left-handed. It can’t possibly be him.’

  She stared transfixed as Lesley Tulley sawed through the loaf. Richard went on, ‘Ferdie Gibson’s out of the picture, Dean Hendrix can’t have done it. Leaves us with one suspect.’

  She heard the faint tick of the clock, felt the hairs on her neck prickle.

  ‘Janine?’ He sounded worried. ‘Where are you? Are you already at the Tulleys’?’

  ‘Yes.’ She tried to keep her voice level.

  ‘Can you talk?’

  ‘No,’ she spoke softly hoping that Richard would too, trying to prevent Lesley from hearing the call.’

  ‘Get out of there!’ He said urgently. ‘Janine? Janine?’

  ‘No,’ she said simply. She would not run away from this. There was a chance here, a chance to get a confession and then she’d show them all. The Lemon and all of them.

  She pressed end call.

  Lesley swung back her way, still holding the knife, an edge of instability in her manner. ‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’

  Ambiguous. Janine felt a surge of vertigo but hid it. Shook her head.

  ‘Bad news?’ Lesley asked her.

  Janine forced herself to ignore the knife. Resisted the urge to cover her stomach with her hands. ‘You and Matthew, you had problems?’

  ‘We were very happy,’ Lesley said.

  ‘But you had depression? And you cut yourself, Lesley, don’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve seen the scars.’

  A flash of something crossed Lesley’s face, a tightening round the mouth.

  ‘You’re not happy. Was Matthew?’

  ‘We were fine.’

  ‘Perhaps Matthew began looking for something outside the marriage.’

  Lesley glared at her. ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘You never had children.’

  ‘I can’t, I’ve already told you.’ Her voice wavered. ‘I had to have a hysterectomy.’

  ‘Was that a cause of strain between you? Matthew may have wanted children.’

  ‘No, he loved me, it didn’t matter.’

  ‘But it was all lies wasn’t it?’ She could see Lesley Tulley’s breath come faster. ‘He’d lied to you right from the start. About his parents. They didn’t know you existed.’

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘He lied to you about being the first. He’d already been married to Laura.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Her voice rose.

  ‘He fooled you, didn’t he? He kept it all from you.’

  ‘Don’t!’

  Janine took a step closer. Knew Lesley was near breaking point. ‘It was all a sham – your marriage. A pack of lies.’

  ‘Shut it!’ Lesley shouted frantically, her hand trembling, the knife glinting.

  Janine felt her throat constrict. She’d gone too far. Misjudged it. Janine kept staring at her, saw the rage burning in Lesley’s eyes.

  The doorbell shrilled, startling them both.

  ‘I’ll be on my way.’ Janine managed. She turned her back to Lesley, walked, her heart hammering, knees rubbery, to the door. Expecting Emma but it was Mr Deaking, the head-teacher.

  ‘Come to pay my condolences.’

  ‘That’s good of you,’ Janine said, trying to sound normal. ‘She’s still very shaken up.’

  *****

  She managed to rouse Richard who was already doing a cavalry stunt and breaking the speed limit. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ Though that was actually a bit of an exaggeration.

  At the station, she told the team the same thing after giving a detailed account of the stand-off. ‘Alive and kicking,’ she winced as the baby butted, ‘being kicked.’ She appreciated their concern but she needed to stay strong, in command. ‘Now, we’ve all got work to do, let’s get on with it.’ The team dispersed.

  She turned to Richard. ‘You heard from the lab?’

  ‘There’s no trace of fibres in the ashes. All they’ve found is residue from the videotapes.’

  She swore. She’d been sure that that was where the missing clothes had gone. ‘I’m applying for warrants then. Search and arrest. The Lemon’s given me till the end of the day. Let’s hope Dean Hendrix will give us something we can use.’

  ‘He’s in room one,’ Richard told her, ‘and the trainer’s a match.’

  A moment of relief. At least they were making some progress.

  ‘Plus they recovered a knife.’

  She frowned. How did that fit? Two knives. His print at the scene but he couldn’t have done the stabbing. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  ‘You want a coffee?’

  ‘Yeah, no – tea.’ She was wired enough. ‘What have we got? We know Dean didn’t use the weapon but we know he was at the allotment.’

  ‘Egging her on? Restraining Matthew for her?’ Richard suggested.

  ‘Could have just gone pear-shaped. Dean doesn’t get chance in the commotion so Lesley stepped in? And Dean could have got rid of the knife.’

  ‘And the one he had with him?’

  ‘Maybe they had one each? Lesley got to strike first. Dean obviously likes to be tooled up. Probably feels naked without one.’

  DS Shap came over. ‘The guy you wanted the background on, boss. Ronald Prosser. They were also looking at him for distributing obscene materials. Charges were dropped. He was released last week.’

  ‘Drugs and porn, you see a link to Mr Tulley with either of those?’ Janine a Richard.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Can’t tell by looking, can you?’ She was hit by a wave of fatigue. ‘Get us that tea, will you? And a fudge brownie.’

  *****

  A noise startled old Eddie, still sitting in his chair; woke him up. His head jerked back. The swill of fear coursed through him. He gasped. Listened. But there was no sound of intruders. His senses reassured him that he was alone in the house. Silly bugger, he chided himself. All this talk of murder getting to him.

  He had woken earlier, near to daybreak, stiff and chilled. Dreams of the war, of killing, clogged his head. He’d done his duty, fought and killed and it had left him a lesser man, a damaged man. He wondered what the lad who killed Matthew Tulley felt? Remorse? Terror? Shame at what he had done or just fear of being caught?

  He had made the trip upstairs to relieve himself. He contemplated going to bed but an early dawn was breaking so he had sat by his bedroom window instead and watched the light spreading over the allotments, saw the soft grey haze lift and give way to colours, heard the cacophony of birdsong fill the air. His favourite time of day.

  Came from years back when his dad had taken him fishing. Leaving in the dark and walking all the way to
the River Mersey. Never caught much, not many fish could survive the muck and waste that the factories and mills discharged into the river. It was his clearest memory of his dad, that was. Never said much, just the odd comment; teaching him the way the current worked, the names of the birds, even the stars when the night was clear. Cygnus the swan, the Plough, Orion with the row of stars for his belt, Cassiopeia the giant W.

  Coming home Eddie would get tired, struggling to keep up and his dad would put the tackle down and swing him up onto his shoulders. Carry him back, big as a giant.

  There was a pain in Eddie’s head now. An awful pain. He tried to rise from the chair but he couldn’t. He looked up and the sky was filled with stars, more of them than he had ever seen. Glittering and shining and rushing towards him. He could feel his dad swinging him up, up high and Maisie laughing, her breath hot on his face and the pain falling away as he span round and round and soared among the stars.

  *****

  There was an art to running an interview, building up the pressure, asking the right questions at the right moment, wrong-footing or confusing the person so they would make a mistake and give you a glimpse of the truth. It was a duel; she was good at it, quick to spot the body language, the tiny clues pointing to lies and half-truths. She was assertive, forceful but not aggressive; she used the power of her intelligence rather than the threat of violence to catch her quarry. And when the chase was on it was both exhilarating and exhausting.

  Dean looked bewildered and on edge when Janine first saw him. His solicitor sat by his side and Richard made the formal introductions for the recording of the interview.

  ‘Can you tell us where you were on Saturday morning, Dean?’

  ‘Oldham, at my mate’s,’ his breath caught in his throat, ‘Douggie’s.’

  ‘I was sorry to hear about the accident. You were good friends?’

  He looked away, Janine saw his Adam’s apple bob, realised how hard he was struggling to hold it all together.

  ‘When were you at Matthew Tulley’s allotment?’

  ‘Never,’ he said quickly.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. We’ve forensic evidence that puts you at the scene of a particularly nasty murder. I think you’d better consider your replies very carefully.’

  ‘What evidence?’

  ‘Hard evidence, Dean, and only you could have left it there.’

  His eyes darted away again.

  ‘And you know what also interests me?’ Janine went on. ‘Matthew Tulley had his belly slit open, top to bottom. You’ll know about that, won’t you? What it feels like to carve someone up like that?’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ he burst out.

  ‘You were there.’

  ‘Just to give Mr Tulley something.’ An admission. Janine caught Richard’s eye. He signalled back – keep going.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘A tape that’s all.’

  ‘You knew Mr Tulley?’

  ‘Only because of the videos. I’d collect them from him and bring back a master copy. He wanted his dirty stuff editing. Look at the tape – you’ll see.’

  Janine nodded. He knew more, she was sure. ‘What happened Dean? Saturday morning. You weren’t in Oldham.’

  Christ! Knocking at the door broke her concentration. Richard sighed with exasperation. Janine excused herself and went to the door, ready to haul someone over the coals for barging in.

  ‘Sorry, boss.’ Butchers spoke before Janine got chance, lowered his voice. ‘The video they found with his stuff – it’s filmed at the Tulleys’ place.’

  This she had to see.

  Shap started the VCR. There was a soundtrack playing, an instrumental of Cry Me A River, a haunting melody. The camera was taking the viewer through the shrubbery and up to the Tulleys’ front door.

  ‘Dean Hendrix said he ran errands for Tulley – getting tapes edited. Claims that was why he went to the allotments,’ Janine told them.

  Butchers took a call. ‘The warrants, boss. Search and arrest. They’ve both been granted.’

  A title sequence. Lust Beyond Boundaries. Oh, please! thought Janine. Though what had she expected? Pirated copies of Disney? ‘Maybe Lesley stumbled on Matthew’s home-made porn collection. Went for him in a fit of jealousy?’ she said.

  ‘Could explain the contact with Ronald Prosser,’ Richard pointed out.

  ‘Anything else, here?’ She encouraged them to think like detectives – what could they learn? ‘What about the tape, the quality?’

  ‘Not as shaky as some,’ said Chen.

  ‘Yet,’ Shap said quietly.

  There was a burst of laughter, swiftly suppressed.

  ‘Maybe using tripods?’ Butchers said.

  ‘Been edited,’ said Shap, ‘more than one camera, soundtrack added.’

  Janine recalled the flight cases, photographic gear in Tulley’s study. ‘And that backs up what Dean Hendrix has been telling us so far. I think I’ll leave this to you lot. Easy on the popcorn.’ She had seen this sort of thing before, as a result of the job, but watching it made her toes curl and watching with a room full of men just added to the discomfort. Janine moved to go.

  The scene on the video changed, the conservatory at Ashgrove. A woman, half-clothed. Janine stopped in her tracks. ‘It’s Lesley Tulley. Oh, sweet Jesus!’ The man stood behind her, Lesley’s face was pressed against the glass distorting her cheek and mouth. She was crying. The man had a knife.

  ‘That’s not Tulley,’ said Richard, ‘the guy with the blade, wrong build.’

  On the tape Lesley began to beg. ‘Matthew, please, no more, please! Stop him.’

  ‘Tulley’s filming it, he’s the cameraman,’ said Janine. ‘The bonfire. This was what she was–’

  Lesley’s face contorted with pain and she began to scream, a horrific yelping sound that made Janine feel sick. No run of the mill porn video. This was torture. The sound that Lesley made left no doubt as to her suffering. She saw Chen flinch and Butchers turn away. ‘Wait! Pause it!’ Janine shouted.

  Shap hit the remote. The picture froze, showing the man’s arm, his hand around Lesley’s throat.

  Think. Janine told herself, resisting the temptation to turn from the image to leave the room. Analyse. How does this help us? What does it tell us?

  ‘This explains the scars,’ she said. ‘She never cut herself.’

  ‘This is sick …’ Butchers said in disgust.

  ‘I think we’ve got our motive.’ Janine said. She looked again at the screen, there was something familiar. ‘The guy’s hand,’ she said slowly. A copper arthritis bracelet, crabbed fingers. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen …’

  The truth hit her like plunging off a cliff. ‘Jesus Christ, it’s Deaking!’ She raced to the door.

  ‘Who?’ Shap asked.

  ‘The head-teacher … and I’ve just left him at Lesley Tulley’s house!’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The car squealed to a halt, fishtailing on the drive. Janine and Richard jumped out and moved swiftly to the front door. Janine put her finger on the bell and pressed without let up. There was no immediate response so she moved back and signalled to Richard.

  He smashed the glass in the front door and put his arm in to free the catch.

  Where was she? Janine could feel the blood pounding in her ears and her heart bucking. Richard raced upstairs while Janine checked each of the downstairs rooms. Nothing, deserted, everything in order like the Marie Celeste.

  ‘The garage,’ she said, when Richard ran back down.

  They were there. Mr Deaking had his hands tight round Lesley Tulley’s neck, strangling her. She was like a doll beside him, petite, limp. Her face bloated and red.

  ‘Let go! Let go of her!’ Janine yelled.

  Richard pulled him off and Deaking fell to his knees. Janine caught Lesley who was choking and shaking, her arms thin and frail, almost weightless; like lifting a child.

  There was a pause, the only sound people gasping for breath: Deaking, bent double, his breath r
agged and noisy; Lesley shuddering, sobbing hoarsely; Richard blowing; Janine panting.

  Janine looked at Richard, not hiding anything, a moment’s emotion fired by adrenaline and the sense of shared jeopardy. He held her gaze, eyes wide open, unsmiling, gave a tiny nod. She wanted to hug him.

  Richard turned to the teacher. ‘Bernard Deaking, I am arresting you for attempted murder …’

  Janine began to recite the caution, still breathless and wondering what the chase had done to her blood pressure. ‘Lesley Tulley, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Matthew Tulley. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if …’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ Lesley shook her head slowly, her dark hair swinging. ‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t …’

  ‘… you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.’

  ‘You have to believe me.’

  ‘Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  A sound at the entrance and Emma came in, still holding their shopping, confusion on her face, trying to make sense of the situation.

  ‘She was in town,’ she said to Janine. ‘You’re making a terrible mistake. She loved him.’

  Janine began to lead Lesley out.

  ‘Emma,’ Lesley said, ‘it’ll be all right, you’ll see. I didn’t do it.’

  *****

  The team were gathered in the murder room and Janine briefed them on the arrests they had made. ‘They’re being processed now, we’re taking Deaking first. The search at the house is underway.’ With the warrant, the search would be completely thorough. Floorboards would be lifted, the, roof space checked; dogs, detectors and staff would comb the Tulleys’ place inside and out. Janine remained convinced that somewhere there were the clothes that Lesley Tulley must have worn when she killed her husband. Clothes covered in his blood which she had then washed and concealed.

  ‘We’ll let them both stew for a bit while we have another crack at Dean. I want him to think he’s still centre stage for this; maybe he’ll admit they were colluding if he thinks we’ll go easier on him.’

  In the interview room, sat back, attempting to look more relaxed than he actually was, as Janine resumed the interview.