Buried Secrets

by Lisa Cutts

  Jenny gave a small laugh and playing to the jury said, ‘I’m a woman. As if I’d know that.’

  ‘Quite,’ smarmed the barrister, giving her a little smile in return.

  ‘Milton then told me he could pop in that evening and he’d bring his tools with him. He arrived that evening with a toolbox of stuff and connected the dishwasher for me. I made him tea, kept out of his way and asked if I could return the favour. I remember very clearly that, as he left, he said that I could find his hammer for him. We had quite a laugh when he told me that the range was called Hard As They Come. That doesn’t seem very important now.’

  ‘What did you do about the hammer?’

  ‘I decided to buy him one to replace the one he’d lost. It was the least I could do, so I found a shop that sells them and I went to buy one. On the morning I went to see Linda, I thought about taking it with me so that she could give it to Milton. Then I realized she might not know Milton had installed my dishwasher. The last thing I wanted to do was cause any problems between them. Besides, if I was going round there to confront her about Aiden it really wasn’t a good idea. I left it at home.’

  ‘Where is the hammer now that you bought for Mr Bowman?’

  ‘I lost it.’

  There was a titter from a couple of the jury members and from her sideways view of Jenny, Hazel saw her features snap into annoyance, before her face regained its composure again.

  Even though the bottom half of Aiden was hidden by the wooden wall of the dock, through the top half of reinforced glass it was easy to see him squirm and wriggle in his seat.

  No one was completely fooled that Aiden hadn’t played a greater part in all this than simply trying to dispose of bloodstained clothing. His turn would soon come and then he could explain why he was kneeling next to Linda’s bloodied skull when his own mother, who was taking full responsibility for the death, claimed he hadn’t even been there.

  It was clear to Hazel, who had sat through such a drama many times before, that the defence team were muddying the waters as far as Milton and Jenny’s relationship was concerned. This was their attempt to try and give an innocent explanation as to why, only three days before the murder, Jenny went to a hardware shop and bought exactly the same make and size hammer that was already at the Bowmans’ home. All the defence had to do was show the jury that they should doubt that Jenny’s actions were indeed a premeditated act of murder, and she might get away with it.

  What Hazel didn’t pay much attention to, and what Jenny couldn’t have seen as she stood in the witness box with her back to the courtroom door, was someone slip into the public gallery and listen to the rest of the defendant’s answers as she gave her evidence.

  It was someone with a lot more than a simple interest in the outcome of the trial.

  Sean Turner was more ruthless than anyone had so far given him credit for.

  Chapter 90

  Evening of Monday 27 November

  The trial that day had continued without Aiden giving his evidence and the judge pointed out that the jury shouldn’t read anything into this.

  Over a dinner that evening that Hazel barely picked at, Harry said, ‘How about when the jury come back with their verdict, we go away for a weekend?’

  She looked up at him from scrutinizing a prawn on the end of her fork and said, ‘We could do that but it’s difficult to predict how long they’ll be out for.’ She hesitated and added, ‘You’re right, though, a weekend away would be a great idea.’

  Her face was drawn and her eyes hadn’t danced at him for what seemed like eternity, yet they had only been in a relationship for a little over five months. Harry had messed up one relationship, and wasn’t about to let another one go awry right in front of him.

  ‘I’ve got a bloody good idea,’ he said, watching her smile at his enthusiasm. ‘We can get a cab into town on Friday, get drunk and spend Saturday hungover.’

  ‘It’s probably not the most sensible thing to do, but I’ll think about it.’

  They carried on eating for a few minutes, Harry feeling relieved that Hazel was at least showing an interest in doing something together, even if it meant the pair of them feeling under the weather for half the weekend. He was also glad not to be talking about work for a while as it was all Hazel seemed to speak about lately. He wanted to make plans with her and make sure there was a future for them together. He wasn’t sure if she could see ahead to spending years to come with a divorced father of three who was much older than her, but he wasn’t too keen to point that one out. Also, he realized that he needed to cut her some slack until the verdict came back.

  One thing he did know was that Travis wouldn’t be the only one who was inconsolable if both Jenny and Aiden were found not guilty.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked her, picking up his beer.

  ‘I’m fine. It’s taken it out of me being at court for so long. That’s all it is. I know this has been a really testing time for Travis. Even so, it’s getting to me.’

  She busied her hands by pouring some water from the jug into her glass. The truth was that, when the trial was over, she had no reason not to spend a lot more time with Harry, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that was something she was looking forward to. Neither of them had expected the relationship to take off so fast and gather so much pace without them realizing what was happening.

  Even though Harry had eaten enough seafood linguine to last him a lifetime, he continued to twirl pasta strands around his fork. The only reason was that he didn’t want to look his girlfriend in the eye, and other than make it obvious by leaving the table, he needed to avert his gaze.

  ‘You needn’t worry so much,’ he said, ‘there’s enough stuff, such as Jenny lying to begin with, the stuff on her computer she looked up about the difference between manslaughter and murder, the fact that she only admitted it when it was all stacking up against Aiden. Jenny will never get away with her claim of self-defence. There were too many injuries to Linda. I saw them.’

  He crammed as much food into his mouth as he could manage and slowly began to chew. Right now, he wanted to avoid being drawn into a conversation about where they were headed: it was much easier to talk about murder than love.

  ‘That’s part of my problem though: she did only admit it when we had Aiden in custody, so what if she’s merely taking the blame for something he’s done to keep him out of prison?’

  Verbalizing his thoughts was impossible at that moment, unless he wanted to spray linguine all over Hazel. He was no expert when it came to women, yet he didn’t think she’d like a seafood coating very much.

  ‘Either way,’ continued Hazel, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s desperate chomping, ‘Jenny might have admitted to killing Linda, thinking it was Aiden when it wasn’t him at all.’

  ‘First off, Haze, we aren’t looking at anyone else at all for this murder. It could only have been one of those fuckers that smashed her head in, the other one was standing there at the time. They helped each other to get rid of bloodstained clothing and threw the hammer with Linda’s blood and hair all over it into a garden. A hammer, might I add, that was bought by Jenny and taken as a gift to the house at six in the morning. Even fucking Interflora don’t deliver at that time of day. They’re murdering fuckers. Can we leave it at that?’

  Chapter 91

  Things weren’t supposed to go this way. Sean’s plan had been a simple one: expand his business, recruit some door-to-door Class A dealers, make lots of money. It was a huge Avon round, except that instead of lipstick and perfume, they were taking orders for crack and heroin. It should have been so simple.

  Then he found out that Karen was right here in East Rise. What the fuck did his stupid sister think she was doing being married to a copper, a bent one at that?

  Anyone with so few brain cells that after keeping her identity a secret for thirty years allowed her photograph to go on Facebook, her standing next to her detective inspector husband, was too dumb to be allowed to live.

&n
bsp; It didn’t take much to find her – half an hour in an internet café and he had the address.

  It wasn’t quite the reunion he’d pictured. He knew there would be shouting, there always was. Even the day she upped and left Plymouth, not telling anyone where she was going. But for fuck’s sake, to marry a copper? Was it some sort of sick joke? She didn’t even seem to have a good word to say about him.

  The red mist had come down and he’d acted in blind panic, anticipating the sound of the dull thud of metal on skull. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, he really hadn’t.

  He’d watched his own hand as he’d raised the hammer, horrified as it smashed against his own sister’s head, hearing the sound of it connecting with bone as he hit her again and again. A sickening crunch that sounded much louder than it probably was, the blood flying in an arc as he used his strength to pull it back towards him, the bloody end inches from his face until he swung it again.

  Over time, Sean had carried out similarly terrible acts of violence, only not against his own kith and kin. He hadn’t gone to see his sister to do this to her. That wasn’t the sort of person he was.

  Although he couldn’t explain to himself at what point before he picked the hammer up he slipped on the latex gloves he carried in his jacket pocket.

  He had a couple of other matters to tie up, and although he would take no pleasure in it, it was all business at the end of the day.

  Chapter 92

  Afternoon of Wednesday 29 November

  For the second day running, Barbara Venice warned all of those who were to be in the courtroom about their behaviour.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ she said, ‘when the jury come back, and it could be this afternoon, we remain professional and impassive. Whatever the verdict.’ She scanned the faces of those jamming themselves into the police room.

  ‘We won’t always get the result we want,’ she said. ‘Nevertheless, we don’t show it. OK?’

  Her words were met with reluctant nods until someone offered to put the kettle on and it was back to business as usual, with the added edge of knowing that within an hour or so, they could be packing up the exhibits and paperwork and heading off to another murder. There had been another four in the county whilst the trial was going on and one or two members of staff had been released to rush off and deal with another family’s anguish somewhere.

  The world still kept on turning, even if it felt to Travis and the Bloomfields as though it had come to a halt far away from the light.

  The difference was that Travis’s predicament wasn’t his own doing.

  The tannoy had called all parties in the case of Bloomfield and Bloomfield back to court seven. Travis sat in his usual seat, next to Hazel, his aunt and uncle the other side of him. Every police and civilian employee who had worked on the investigation who could make time to be there took every last seat. Even a few that had nothing to do with the inquiry but had known Linda and Milton were in the room. Travis had seen Aiden’s father outside the court and didn’t have to turn round and scan the packed room to know he was behind him somewhere.

  Hazel cast her eye over the other occupied seats and saw a couple of local reporters she recognized plus a few she didn’t.

  Everyone had anticipated that being called back to their places meant that twelve people who had been chosen from the local community, who had sat and listened to the evidence, and made notes throughout, were about to announce whether they thought that Jenny and Aiden Bloomfield were guilty of murder.

  Both of his parents were gone so all Travis felt he had left was the words of the jury. It didn’t seem to him as if it was about the evidence or the truth now, but still it all focused on this point. He had a thudding in his ears and barely registered what the court usher in her long black gown was saying as she checked with the jury foreman whether they had reached a verdict they all agreed on.

  He tried his best to concentrate and not think about Hazel’s explanation of what might happen if the jury couldn’t agree. The word ‘retrial’ was as abhorrent to him as ‘innocent’. Couldn’t anyone see how he was suffering? How this was all weighted in the favour of those on trial?

  His skull felt as though someone had replaced his brain with red-hot coals and they were burning him from the inside out.

  He tried to concentrate on the words he was hearing and heard Aiden’s name.

  Travis closed his eyes, held his breath.

  ‘Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  That was all he heard. He knew there was more to come but he had gone into sensory overload.

  Jenny. They must have decided about Jenny only right now, feelings he hadn’t expected to experience flooded him. He didn’t want his best friend to be guilty. He knew that they couldn’t ever be friends again, yet if twelve complete strangers had just said “not guilty” instead of “guilty”, it wouldn’t have been Travis’s decision. He could have then put all of his efforts into hating Jenny and all the times he and Aiden had spent together over the years would count for something.

  Now that was gone too.

  ‘Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’ he heard again.

  ‘Not guilty.’

  He couldn’t believe what was happening. He looked around wildly at the faces of the jury then the faces of Aiden and Jenny as they stood in the dock. Hers paler than death, his, an open-mouthed stare of disbelief.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Hazel said, tilting her head towards his. ‘Do you understand what happened?’

  His eyes, staring yet not seeming to focus, were unsettling and leading her to believe he hadn’t grasped what had just happened.

  ‘Yeah,’ he rasped, ‘they said my best friend murdered my mum.’

  Chapter 93

  Feeling as though she had lost everything in a very dangerous game, Jenny Bloomfield stood outside the court building, utterly bewildered and unsure what to do.

  She had seen her husband in the public gallery from time to time throughout the trial, although he had never once made contact with her in prison, wouldn’t take her phone calls and failed on each occasion she looked his way in court to return her gaze.

  It was as though she wasn’t even there. She knew that he was there for Aiden and not for her, that idea reinforced by his rapid exit as soon as the jury announced her innocence.

  Traffic was heavy and the air had a sharp bite to it. It was the time of year she usually had her Christmas shopping out of the way and could start to enjoy the holiday season. This year, she wasn’t even sure where she’d be living.

  Without any other plan, shivering, Jenny made her way to the town. She had never envisaged that, if she was found not guilty, they would kick her out there and then with only the clothes she stood in. She had no money, no credit card. Everything she had was at the prison. She hadn’t even been able to find her barrister after the verdict. Feeling herself start to panic, she toyed with the idea of going back into the court to ask one of the police officers for a lift home, then realized how preposterous that was: they had put her inside in the first place, and for something she hadn’t done.

  She waited at the lights to cross towards the taxi rank, not thinking through how she would pay for her fare home, wherever home was. Her mind still turning over the events of nearly six months ago and how her actions of that morning were all down to one single act of love for her son.

  What mother wouldn’t have done the same?

  Her feet took her past where the CCTV cameras used to be until the council decided it had to save £80,000 and remove two thirds of them, and out the other side in the direction of the waiting area for cabs. Except it was empty.

  Lost in the thought of how Aiden was the whole reason she had been at the Bowmans’ in the first place, she stood miserable and vulnerable at the side of the darkened street, the biting wind keeping most people in the shops and pubs only a couple of roads away. Her only crime had been to creep from her own house at an ungodly hour to plead with Linda
to leave her son alone, partly fuelled by her pillow talk with Sean during afternoons at the Grand.

  She had arrived at Linda’s house expecting to be laughed at, although not ignored, so after she’d rung the doorbell for the second time, she tried the door and let herself in, making her way to the heart of the house, the kitchen.

  Hindsight was a wonderful thing, and if only she had gone back home again, forgotten the confrontation she had practised in her mind.

  The sight of Linda on the floor, the noise of gurgling coming from her lips and blood from her mouth as Jenny stood over her and watched her take her final breath.

  She would never have confessed to a murder she wasn’t responsible for if she had known for one second that her wonderful, sweet, kind son would instead be found guilty.

  Now she was terrified and alone, teeth chattering, and completely at a loss as to what she should do.

  Jenny called to mind the battle she had had with herself deciding whether to help the dying woman on the floor and call an ambulance, or whether to get herself away as fast as possible. She closed her eyes and remembered the tentative step forward she had taken, her head next to Linda’s head.

  Then self-preservation had kicked in. And her love for her son.

  If she ran, she’d reasoned, no one would know she’d been there. Linda would soon be dead and not plaguing her family.

  The worst thought of all was that Aiden had done this himself. Jenny knew that he wasn’t in his bed when she’d left that morning, and here was the same make of hammer he had made such a fuss about using to hang that bloody photograph.

  With her arms wrapped round her in an attempt to keep warm, she blinked back tears, now realizing how stupid she had been. All she had to do was turn round, go back and find one of the police officers and tell them. She and Aiden had never spoken about it, too numb with terror at what the other had done, too horrified that they considered each other capable of standing there and watching another person’s life’s blood trickle away.