A Moment Of Madness

by Hilary Bonner

  ‘Did you use a weapon at all?’

  Kelly looked puzzled.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I just hit her.’

  ‘In the face?’

  ‘I told you so.’

  ‘Not on the back of the head?’

  ‘No, no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘You sound unsure.’

  ‘Well, it all happened so fast. I know I just lashed out. But I think only that one blow really connected. I’m just not sure, I just can’t tell you any more …’

  ‘You have what looks like scratch marks on your face. Did Angel do that to you? Was there a struggle?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think she tried to push me away. It’s so hard to remember exactly.’

  ‘Angel Silver suffered a wound to the back of the head, which is what we think killed her,’ Karen went on. ‘Do you think you could have been responsible for that, John?’

  ‘I must have been.’ Kelly put his head in his hands again.

  ‘But how, how could that have happened? Think, John, think.’

  ‘I just don’t know, I really don’t.’

  ‘All right.’ Karen decided to change tack. ‘There must have been something, something specific that happened that night which made you lash out like that, John.’

  Kelly shrugged.

  ‘C’mon,’ the DCI prompted. ‘Try to put it into words.’

  Kelly smiled, again without humour, his eyes still full of tears.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I had reason to suspect that Angel had killed her husband as well as Terry James. That the whole robbery thing was a put-up job. Good reason. I decided to confront her, to make her tell me the truth.’

  ‘And did she?’ Karen struggled to keep any expression out of her voice.

  ‘Oh yes, I’m almost sure of it. That was the worst thing of all.’

  He told her, then, exactly what Angel had told him, all about Scott and his affair with Bridget Summers and how he’d been planning to leave Angel, about the pre-nuptial agreement and how Angel had plotted to make sure both that she would keep all of Scott’s wealth and never lose her man to another woman. How she had been prepared to kill her husband and another innocent man in order to do that.

  ‘Her motive was a mixture of greed and pride, and passion too, because she did love Scott, like I loved her, I suppose,’ said Kelly, sounding strangely detached. ‘She was passionate enough about him to kill him, yet there was no way she’d let him leave her.’

  Karen had already been given cause to have grave doubts over the events at Maythorpe Manor the night Scott and James had died, but hearing the words, just like that, from the person who had probably been closest to Angel following her husband’s death, was, none the less, quite devastating. Even DS Cooper, watching her conduct the interview with her usual calm professionalism, would have had no idea of the effect Kelly’s revelations were having on the DCI. She was actually quite stunned.

  ‘So why did you suspect her so strongly, John?’ she asked levelly.

  ‘It was more than suspecting. There was evidence that pointed directly to her, only I chose to ignore it – well, as best I could …’

  His voice tailed off again.

  ‘What evidence, John? We didn’t find anything.’

  ‘No.’ Again a brief humourless laugh.

  Karen pressed the point until Kelly told her about the video film which had so clearly shown Angel killing Terry James, stabbing him repeatedly, and also all that the video had indicated to him about how Scott may also have died at her hands.

  ‘So where is that video now?’

  ‘We burned it.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I confronted Angel with it and she asked me to destroy it. I did her bidding. I pretty darned well always did.’

  Kelly was angry with himself, Karen thought. But not nearly as angry as she felt.

  Karen rose from her chair.

  ‘Interview terminated at twelve fifty-five p.m.,’ she announced for the tape, then, without addressing Kelly further, turned on her heel and left the room, gesturing Cooper to follow her.

  Once they were outside she turned to the sergeant.

  ‘What a fucker, Phil,’ she said. ‘So much for Angel Silver as the brave little woman who only wanted to defend her husband.’

  ‘She must have been a total monster, boss.’

  ‘Yup. A lethal one too. And when it all comes out there’s going to be hell to pay, you know that, don’t you?’

  Cooper nodded. ‘They’ll be looking for scapegoats, boss, won’t they? Our brass, the press, the Home Office even. Anyone involved with the previous investigation and that apology for a trial will be heading the list.’

  ‘You’re not wrong about that, and no doubt I shall be right at the very top,’ said Karen resignedly as she began to walk along the corridor, Cooper, quietly thoughtful, at her side. They arrived at the door to Karen’s office at the same time as DC Burns, who came hurrying along from the direction of the incident room.

  ‘The Chief Constable’s Office has been on, boss,’ said Michael Burns. ‘Mr Tomlinson wants to talk to you straight away.’

  ‘I’ll bet he does,’ muttered Karen. ‘Who took the call?’

  ‘I did, boss,’ said Burns.

  ‘And what did you tell them?’

  ‘That you were interviewing the leading suspect and couldn’t be disturbed, boss,’ said Burns expressionlessly.

  Karen shot him a sideways glance. Maybe there was more than there appeared to be to this big muscle-bound lad.

  ‘Well done, Mike,’ she said approvingly. ‘And I think that interview is going to have to go on for some time. I can’t quite face the chief constable at the moment.’

  She beckoned the two detectives to follow her into her office and slumped into the chair at her desk, brushing the remains of that morning’s paperwork casually to one side. She certainly had no time for any of that.

  Cooper, without waiting to be asked, sat down opposite her. Burns, still ill at ease with the more informal ways of CID, stood quite stiffly, almost to attention, by the door.

  ‘For God’s sake, Mike,’ said the DCI, suddenly noticing his awkward stance. ‘Sit down somewhere, will you? You look as if you’re facing a court martial.’

  ‘Heaven forbid, boss,’ murmured Cooper with a wry smile.

  Karen managed a very small smile back. ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘I can, however, see an internal inquiry and God knows what other shit looming unless we make a damned near miraculous recovery on this one, Phil.’

  She leaned forward across her desk, fists clenched, her forehead creased into a frown of concentration.

  ‘Right! Let’s get at it. I know that Angel’s death at least seems cut and dried. We have a confession and all the evidence seems to back that up. But I’m just not happy, and we certainly can’t afford any more mistakes. I want a check on any other possible suspects. I’d like to talk to Bridget Summers and to Ken James.’

  ‘I’ll get on to it, boss.’ Phil Cooper was quite serious now.

  ‘Any word of Angel’s mother, by the way? Do we know if the Met have broken the news to her yet?’

  ‘Yes, they have, boss. I heard just before we went in to interview Kelly. Apparently she’s on her way to Torquay and she wants to see you.’

  Karen nodded. ‘I want to see her too. Though God knows what light she can shed on any of it.’

  ‘And Rachel Hobbs is no chicken, boss. She’s bound to be in shock.’

  ‘No doubt,’ said Karen, thinking that Mrs Hobbs wasn’t the only one.

  *

  It was, however, Rachel Hobbs who had coached her daughter in the old showbiz maxim of never letting the act drop.

  Like Kelly all those months previously, Karen Meadows was surprised by the now seventy-one-year-old woman she had expected to have to treat so carefully.

  Mrs Hobbs was immaculately turned out, in her own particular sty
le, all bouffanted platinum-blonde hair, tight tailored suit and high-heeled shoes. If she had shed any tears at all at her daughter’s death, it didn’t show. Whatever her feelings were, she was keeping them to herself. This was no broken mother, rather she was a woman on a mission.

  ‘My daughter was a very famous woman, the wife of a great star, and once upon a time, quite a star herself,’ Rachel Hobbs announced. ‘I need to know exactly what you think happened to her, and why. I know you’ve got John Kelly in custody, but I find it really hard to believe that he would have hurt Angel. I need to know what’s going on, because my Angel had a certain image. She was somebody. That meant a lot to her, I know, and it meant a lot to me, Detective Chief Inspector. I intend to protect that image with my last breath if I need to. One thing is certain: I will not let her name be tarnished. That’s why I am here.’

  Karen listened in some amazement. This was not what she had expected at all. She studied Rachel Hobbs carefully.

  Karen had, of course, absolutely no intention of revealing to her what Kelly had told her about her daughter, and how she now believed that Angel Silver had not killed an intruder in self-defence, but was, instead, a double murderer. Deep in thought, she let Mrs Hobbs’ words wash over her.

  ‘Have you any reason to think that Angel’s name will be tarnished?’ she asked eventually.

  Rachel Hobbs looked startled. ‘No, of course not. But you never know what will come out of something like this, do you?’

  ‘A funeral perhaps?’ Karen hadn’t meant to be so sharp, but Rachel Hobbs had thrown her off kilter and she was always inclined to speak her mind.

  Mrs Hobbs stared at her for fully half a minute before reacting, then she seemed to slump a little in her chair.

  ‘You think I don’t care …’ The words faded away.

  ‘No. I don’t think about that at all. My job is to find out what happened at Maythorpe Manor and to bring your daughter’s killer to justice.’

  Karen could see Mrs Hobbs making a conscious effort to pull herself together again. ‘So, do you think you have found him? Is it really John Kelly? And if so, why? Why on earth would John Kelly harm Angel? He always adored her.’

  Karen wondered if the woman had any idea that her daughter had been having a torrid affair with Kelly. She thought not.

  ‘I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, Mrs Hobbs,’ she said. ‘But I do intend to find out.’

  During the next twenty minutes or so she gave Rachel Hobbs all the information she was prepared to about Angel’s death, which wasn’t actually that much, and also asked a few questions of her own. But it quickly became apparent that Mrs Hobbs could be of little help in the investigation.

  ‘I only saw Angel a couple of times after Scott was killed, and that was quite early on,’ she said. ‘We hardly talked about that night at all. Angel didn’t want to. To be honest, I didn’t think she could. She had always visited me quite often, but after Scott’s death she seemed to pull away. There were phone calls, but that’s not the same, is it? And she made it quite clear that she didn’t want me to come to Maythorpe. I was hurt, to tell the truth. I wanted to support her, and she wouldn’t let me. But that was my Angel. You could never second-guess how she would react to anything.’

  That, certainly, was true enough, thought Karen. And another certainty seemed to be that Mrs Hobbs knew virtually nothing at all about anything that might have led to Angel’s death.

  Karen found herself relieved when she was finally able to show the woman out of her office.

  But at the door Rachel Hobbs turned round to face her again. ‘Don’t think I’m not devastated by my daughter’s death, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Mrs Hobbs announced. ‘She was my only child and I loved her to bits.’

  Now, finally, Karen saw that her eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled when she spoke.

  ‘I try not to think about what I’ve lost, that’s how I cope,’ she said very quietly. ‘That and by carrying on doing what I’ve always done, I suppose. Trying to fix things for Angel … trying to look after her, even though she’s not here any more …’

  Mrs Hobbs abruptly swung away and hurried off down the corridor. Karen could see that her shoulders were shaking. Even the likes of Rachel Hobbs can’t always keep the act up, she thought.

  Alone in her office later, Karen went over in her mind for the umpteenth time the events of the last week. She had genuine doubts about Kelly’s guilt, in spite of his confession, but she needed to be able to convince herself that these had nothing to do with their shared history and her personal feelings for him. She needed to seriously think it through.

  There was no doubt that Kelly had gone to Maythorpe that night and that he had physically attacked Angel, hitting her in the face and causing her nose to bleed – something which had not called for a huge blow exactly, reflected Karen. None the less, Kelly’s version of events to that extent was backed up by almost irrefutable evidence. But Kelly still denied any recollection of having used a weapon on Angel, although he was so uncertain and vague it was difficult to judge the credibility of some of his evidence, even if you accepted that he was being as honest as he could be. His return to drink and drugs might seriously have addled his brain this time, Karen feared. That and an unhealthy obsession which seemed to have totally blinded him to reality.

  On an impulse she put in a call to Audley Richards, even though she suspected that the Home Office pathologist might not be overjoyed to hear from her again. And she was right about that.

  ‘Look, Audley, I just wanted to go over it again. Are you sure the blow to Angel’s head couldn’t have been caused by her hitting the back of her head either on the worktop or on the floor after she’d been hit in the face?’

  ‘Karen, this is the third time you’ve phoned on this. I can’t tell you any more than I have already. I am ninety-nine per cent certain that Angel Silver’s fatal injury was caused by a blow to the head administered by a blunt instrument. However many more times you call me, nothing will change that.’

  Karen ended the call, leaned back in her chair and tried to sort it out inside her head. The logical solution was that Kelly had used some sort of weapon on Angel and had either blanked it out or was deliberately denying it, knowing that his lawyers would probably attempt to have his charge reduced to manslaughter.

  Audley Richards said ninety-nine per cent. That one per cent doubt, plus no murder weapon having been found, made it likely that a manslaughter plea would be accepted. Kelly would plead guilty to that and probably end up with just a few years in a low-grade prison.

  Yet there were enough unanswered questions to make the DCI feel extremely uneasy. Then, just as she was contemplating attempting another interview with Kelly, her telephone rang. It was the chief constable. She had known she could not avoid him indefinitely. The call was, however, extremely unwelcome.

  Harry Tomlinson didn’t even attempt his cheerful act.

  ‘I have been trying to get to speak to you for almost half a day, Detective Chief Inspector. Have you been deliberately avoiding me?’

  Karen took a deep breath. She knew that it was a very bad sign when the chief constable addressed you by your rank. The bloody man prided himself on his chumminess.

  ‘Of course not, sir. It’s been a very busy day, that’s all. I’ve been in the interview room most of the time.’

  Tomlinson grunted unenthusiastically. ‘And with any constructive results, may I ask?’

  ‘To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure, sir –’

  ‘Are you not, DCI Meadows? Well, you should know I have managed to obtain reports from other officers less elusive than yourself.’ He paused to allow that one to sink in. Karen refused to let herself rise to the bait.

  ‘I understand that there is a clear-cut case against John Kelly, that he has confessed and that forensic and DNA evidence is likely to back up that confession. Is that not so, Detective Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Well, that’s one way of looking at it
, sir –’

  ‘One way of looking at it?’ Tomlinson’s voice had risen several octaves. He was virtually shouting down the phone. ‘I’ll have you know, DCI Meadows, that it’s my way of looking at it, and I have little doubt the way of any decent police officer. I just hope you are not allowing any personal prejudices to get in the way of your judgement on Kelly.’

  The chief constable had put extra emphasis on his last remark. Oh shit, thought Karen. So he too thought she’d had an affair with John Kelly. Well, there was nothing she could do about that. She certainly wasn’t going to deny something Harry Tomlinson would never dare put into words.

  ‘I can assure you, sir –’ she began. But Tomlinson interrupted her before she could even put a sentence together.

  ‘The only assurance I want from you is that you’re going to charge John Kelly with the murder of Angel Silver, and fast. We need somebody in the frame. We’ve got the man, and I don’t want him slipping through our fingers. God knows what will come out in court about the bloody mess we seem to have made of the whole Silver case so far, but we’ll just have to weather that one when it happens. I’m talking about damage limitation, DCI Meadows, and you, I may remind you, have a hell of a lot of damage to put a limit on.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Karen.

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but, in any case, it didn’t matter much. By the time she had muttered even those two words she was already speaking into a buzzing receiver. Harry Tomlinson had hung up.

  Cooper came into Karen’s office then, just in time to see her looking quizzically at the telephone receiver in her hand. She put it down at once.

  ‘Yes, Phil?’

  Karen did not intend to tell anyone about her conversation with the chief constable, not even Cooper. The political machinations of Harry Tomlinson were her problem.

  ‘The team we sent round to Bridget Summers’ place in Exeter have just reported back, boss,’ Cooper told her. ‘Apparently the house is all shut up, and the neighbours say they haven’t seen her for weeks. We’re still checking it out.’

  ‘And Ken James?’