Deadly Alibi

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Here, give that back! That’s my bag.’

  She twisted round to reach for it. Grabbing both her wrists in one hand, he tied his belt around them.

  ‘Now be quiet and stop making such a fuss, for Christ’s sake. I’m only taking you home. Anyone would think I’m going to throw you into a snake pit, the fuss you’re making. You’ll be quite safe at home. You really don’t need to look so worried. It’s for your own good. Once you calm down, you’ll realise this is the best thing for you. Trust me.’

  ‘Trust you? What makes you think I’ll trust you, when you’ve chucked away my phone and tied me up?’ She spat on the floor. ‘You’re crazy.’

  Saddened by her hostility, he shook his head.

  ‘Come on, now,’ he said, ‘let’s be friends. You know I’m only thinking of what’s best for you.’

  ‘You’re insane,’ she replied angrily. ‘And we’re not friends.’

  ‘Of course we are,’ he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Now come on, let’s get you home and then we can play some games.’

  She shook her head, muttering that she was fucked if she was going to play any fucking games with a fucking nutter. He knew she was only using that bad language to shock him. With a sigh, he reversed out of the park entrance and put his foot down again. Sooner or later she’d come round. In the meantime, he was going to take good care of her. She wouldn’t get away from him again.

  47

  After a disturbed night, Geraldine arrived at work feeling as though she could do with a rest. All through the night she had been fretting over whether she had done the right thing in handing over so much cash to her sister. She had an uneasy feeling she could guess how it might be spent. At the same time, she felt guilty for thinking the worst of her sister. She had no proof that Helena was a user, although everything about her jittery demeanour indicated that she was.

  It wasn’t only the puncture marks Geraldine thought she had glimpsed on Helena’s arm. She could have been mistaken about them. But her sister’s frailty and unhealthy skin, her glazed eyes and erratic conduct, all combined to build a fairly conclusive picture. And beyond the physical evidence, Geraldine’s gut feeling was that Helena was an addict. She had met enough dysfunctional people in the course of her career to have developed a sense of judgement that was almost instinctive.

  On top of her anxieties about Helena, she was worried about speaking to Adam.

  ‘You really think we should release Chris and start all over again? You’d better have good grounds for wanting to do that,’ he growled when she voiced her concerns.

  Patiently Geraldine went over her reasons for doubting Chris’s guilt. The detective chief inspector listened, his elegant features creased in a scowl that made him look like a sulky teenager. Geraldine persisted, convinced that Adam must have been plagued by the same reservations.

  ‘So if what you’re saying is right, it’s back to the drawing board.’

  ‘I’m not saying I’m right…’

  ‘You may not be right, but we could be wrong,’ he replied heavily.

  Geraldine shrugged.

  ‘Well, go on then, see what you can find out. But let’s keep him where he is for now.’

  Taking Sam with her, Geraldine had Chris brought to an interview room. It took a while to organise, as he refused to answer any questions without a lawyer present. At last everything was in place.

  ‘Chris, I want you to think very carefully before you answer. Can you think of anyone who might have had a grudge against you, or your wife?’

  The stout lawyer’s eyes glittered as he grasped the implications of the question.

  ‘Are you saying my client is no longer a suspect?’ he asked, with a briskness Geraldine had not heard from him before.

  ‘Please just answer the question.’

  Chris glanced at the lawyer who nodded.

  ‘If by that you mean did anyone hate Jamie enough to want to kill her, then no, I can’t think of anyone.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘We’re just ordinary people…’ he burst out, and paused. ‘We were just ordinary people,’ he amended his statement, ‘until all this happened. We didn’t hate anyone, and no one hated us. We’re – we were just people. We were just like everyone else, like any other married couple.’

  Geraldine leaned forward to emphasise her point. ‘Chris, you want to convince us you were happily married, but we all know you were having an affair. So let’s be honest with each other. You weren’t happy with your wife at all, were you? In fact, you were so unhappy in your marriage, you were desperate to get rid of your wife. Now, who do you suppose we imagine might have wanted to kill her?’

  The lawyer leaned across, and muttered to Chris who shook his head.

  ‘I think it was a terrible mistake.’

  ‘She was killed in your house.’

  ‘An intruder must’ve broken in by chance. A burglar. Jamie must have interrupted him, so he killed her.’

  ‘There was no sign of a break-in.’

  ‘Well obviously she must have opened the door, and then I guess he must’ve just barged in.’ He dropped his head in his hands with a muffled groan.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure you can’t think of anyone at all who might’ve wanted to get your wife out of the way? It wasn’t necessarily someone who deliberately set out to kill her. Perhaps she had an argument with someone who had been pushed to breaking point? Someone who was desperate to be free of her, and suddenly snapped?’

  Chris’s face reddened. He shook his head. ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘Did she know that you were seeing Louise?’

  ‘No.’

  Geraldine paused. There was no need to spell out the implications of what had been said.

  ‘How can you be sure she didn’t see you and Louise together? Perhaps when she was on her way home from work one day?’

  Chris shook his head. Jamie hadn’t worked, and, according to him, she had rarely gone out.

  ‘She must have gone out,’ Sam protested.

  Chris shook his head.

  Geraldine leaned forward. She spoke very gently. ‘Did Jamie have problems, Chris? That must have been very difficult for you. I’m sure you did your best, but it was all too much for you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Chris snapped. ‘Jamie didn’t have problems. Sounds to me like you’re the one who’s got problems.’

  He was rattled. Geraldine wasn’t quite sure why, and with the lawyer watching her she wasn’t able to needle Chris too much.

  ‘Chris, is there something you’re not telling us?’

  His reaction was out of all proportion to the question. His face darkened, and he scowled as though this was the first time she had accused him of murder.

  With his voice rising in consternation, he looked and sounded as though he was panicking. ‘There’s nothing I haven’t told you about Jamie, nothing! What makes you think I’d want to hide anything about her from you? There was nothing wrong with us. Nothing! We were just fine.’

  The lawyer put his plump hand on Chris’s arm to restrain him. Turning to Geraldine, he requested a break. Chris subsided, grumbling. Whatever was going on, there was something Chris was not telling them. But Geraldine had no idea what it was.

  ‘My client’s upset,’ the lawyer said. ‘He’s overtired and overwrought. He needs a break.’

  Geraldine nodded. They both knew the lawyer was insisting on a break because Chris was losing his self-control and threatening to become indiscreet. But Geraldine could not refuse his lawyer’s request.

  ‘Listen,’ Chris said, when they reconvened after a break, ‘Jamie didn’t go out much, but that was her choice. She liked being at home. There’s nothing wrong with that. She didn’t go out to work.’

  ‘What did she do? Did she have any hobbies? Who were her
friends?’

  ‘She looked after the house. That was her hobby. She didn’t need friends. We were happy together.’

  ‘So happy that you killed her,’ Sam muttered.

  ‘You seem to be confusing an accusation with a conviction,’ the lawyer remarked drily.

  48

  ‘Someone downstairs asking for you.’

  It was a common enough request, but something in the constable’s tone made Geraldine hesitate.

  ‘What? Who is it?’

  The constable shrugged, looking uncomfortable. ‘She didn’t seem to know your name…’

  Neil didn’t look round, but Geraldine could tell he was listening.

  ‘You said he was asking for me.’

  ‘She. It’s a woman.’ The constable hesitated. ‘She’s got a picture of you on her phone.’

  Feeling uneasy, Geraldine stood up. Her fears were confirmed by the constable’s next words.

  ‘She’s confused. She said your name was…’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Geraldine interrupted him quickly. ‘I think I know who she is.’

  Helena was slumped on a chair in the entry hall, her eyes closed. She opened them when Geraldine spoke. At first Helena resisted when Geraldine asked her to accompany her. In a very short black skirt and bright red stilettos she could have been brought in for soliciting; her unsteady posture and smudged make-up betrayed her state of mind.

  ‘Where you taking me? Get off me!’

  Leaning forward, Geraldine put her lips close to Helena’s ear in an effort to sound authoritative, while speaking too softly to be overheard. ‘You don’t have to come with me. I never asked you to come here. If you’ve changed your mind about speaking to me you can leave right now.’

  Helena’s hair smelt of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Inured as she was to lowlifes and misfits, Geraldine felt wretched. It was impossible to detach herself from the woman she might have been, had circumstances not dictated otherwise. Taking her by the arm, she led her sister to an interview room. She hoped that none of her colleagues had noticed their similarity. It might be difficult to ascertain that they were identical, without looking closely. But despite their differences, on a close look it must be clear they were at least related, especially now that Helena had dyed her hair.

  Before either of them spoke, there was a knock on the door and the young constable opened it. ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’

  Wondering how much the young constable had deduced, Geraldine sent him away and invited Helena to sit down.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I need to speak to you.’

  ‘I’m at work. You can’t come here again. If you do, I won’t see you.’

  ‘Never mind that. You got to help me. Listen, I only come here because I couldn’t think where else to go. I knew they wouldn’t follow me in here. I’m not safe anywhere else. Please, Erin, I need your help.’

  ‘I just gave you some money.’

  ‘I need to give them what’s owed or I’m dead. They’d have been after you by now if you weren’t protected by your people. But I got no one to protect me, and no one to help me. Only you.’

  Geraldine hesitated. Of course some of her colleagues had relatives operating on the wrong side of the law, but this was a new situation for her and she hadn’t yet worked out how she was going to handle it.

  ‘You’re lucky I left my desk to come and speak to you.’

  Helena glared, muttering darkly about her luck.

  ‘You blew the two hundred quid I gave you on drugs, didn’t you?’

  ‘Too bloody right, it was your dosh got me in this state. Always the same, innit? That was what my mum – our mum – did to me. Always give me enough to get me smashed, never enough to get the bastards off my back.’

  Her complaint didn’t make much sense, but Geraldine thought she might have spotted a way through the mess. If Helena was talking about wanting to escape from her current life, there was a chance she might be prepared to kick her habit. At any rate, it was worth a try.

  ‘Listen, Helena, I want to help you. Do you understand what I’m saying? I want to help you.’

  The focus in Helena’s glazed eyes sharpened as she stared at Geraldine, but she said nothing.

  ‘I’m going to pay your debt, all of it, but on one condition.’

  Helena grunted and complained about there always being a catch. ‘Can’t you do nothing to help me without expecting something in return?’

  ‘I’ll help you, however much it takes, but I’m not going to give the money to you so you can get smashed.’

  ‘I need the money, Erin. It’s not for me. They’re going to kill me if I don’t give them what I owe.’

  ‘I’ll pay these people off, whoever they are, but I’ll pay them directly. You won’t touch the money because you’ll just blow it on crack, or whatever it is you do.’

  ‘Smack,’ Helena replied. ‘So you still want to help me, now you know your sister’s a heroin addict?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll help you, but only if you go into rehab.’

  ‘What the fuck you talking about?’

  ‘You need help to kick your addiction.’

  ‘It won’t work. Once a user, always a user. I’m a loser. Jesus, Erin, this is me we’re talking about.’

  ‘That’s my condition. If you don’t go into rehab, you won’t get a penny from me to wipe out your debt and get your drug dealer off your back.’

  Helena closed her eyes. ‘They’ll kill me if I don’t get them their money.’

  ‘You’re already killing yourself. If you don’t agree to go into rehab, you’ll be dead soon anyway. Listen, I’m offering you a chance here, Helena. A chance to live.’

  ‘And if I don’t agree to go into rehab, you won’t hand over the dosh?’

  ‘Exactly. Those are the terms on which I’m prepared to help you.’

  ‘Shit, do you have to talk like that? Like you swallowed a bloody dictionary. I get it. You’re clever and educated and now you want to save my life.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That’s got to be a first.’

  Helena closed her eyes and appeared to fall asleep. She lay sprawled in the chair, snoring softly. Waking her, Geraldine took her out to the car park. Helena barely spoke. It wasn’t clear if she understood what was happening. In the car she fell asleep again straight away. Geraldine drove her to a rehabilitation clinic she knew in North London. As the car stopped, Helena woke up and looked around, bewildered.

  ‘Where the fuck are we?’

  ‘This is a clinic where you can get the support you need to help you kick your habit. And after that, we can get to know one another properly, without all this. I can meet the real Helena.’

  Helena laughed. ‘This is who I am, Erin. There is no other Helena. I’m a druggie, a user, a junkie. This is the real me.’

  ‘Well, we’re here, and you know what you have to do if you want me to help you extricate yourself from all this.’

  Helena seemed to wake up. Her eyes widened as she registered the elegant white stone building in front of them. ‘Jesus, you are joking. I’m not going to no clinic…’

  ‘Then you can sort out your own mess. Do you really think I’m going to hand over five thousand quid, not to mention what this place is going to cost, if you’re not a hundred per cent committed to kicking your habit? So make your mind up. Now. I’m not going to be messed around, Helena. What’s it to be?’

  Geraldine wasn’t sure if she was being direct enough. Helena had to appreciate that she was serious. It really was a turning point in her life. Geraldine was offering her time in a private clinic where she would receive help to walk away from her addiction, something no one had ever been able to afford to do for her before. Geraldine’s salary could support her sister in the clinic, even if it meant reduc
ing her mortgage repayments temporarily, and she had the funds to pay off Helena’s debt of thousands. She just hoped her sister wasn’t too far gone to understand that she was being thrown a lifeline. In a way, Geraldine was rushing blindly into helping someone she knew nothing about. But Helena was her sister. She didn’t really have any other choice.

  49

  Up until twenty-four hours ago, Cindy had been lucky, or perhaps naive. Still fairly new to the game, she had never intended to stay on the job for long. She had heard too many stories of girls being picked up by dangerous nutters. Occasionally a girl disappeared. Even among the few other sex workers she knew, several had been through terrible experiences. And there were always rumours, the stuff of nightmares. Realistically, she had to concede it was probably only a matter of time before her number came up. But she had planned to quit the job long before trouble came looking for her.

  ‘You got to be tough as nails in this game,’ one of the other girls had told her.

  Still, most of the punters were OK. And as long as she was careful, she was going to come out of it on top. She wasn’t the kind of girl to go off with a pervert. She was far too cautious for that. In the meantime, she was earning nicely, even after she’d given her pimp his cut. On a busy night she could make more lying on her back than she’d get in a month standing on her feet in a shop. In another few months she would reach her target. With enough money to pay off her debts, she was going to settle back into a dull day job and be satisfied for the rest of her life, or at least until she met a bloke who would support her properly.

  She hadn’t come up against any problems at all, until she’d climbed into a car the previous night. At first glance, the bloke had looked all right. Clean enough, decent clothes, nice wheels. She wouldn’t have got in his car if she’d suspected there was anything wrong with him. But it hadn’t been long before he’d started talking strangely to her. Not dirty, but weird. When she’d tried to jump out of the car, she’d discovered she was trapped. From then on, things had gone from scary to downright terrifying. It was all well and good in theory learning how to defend herself, but this guy was strong. And her rape alarm was no use once he’d snatched her bag away from her. When he tied her wrists together, she’d given up trying to struggle against him. Sitting back in the passenger seat, she had waited for an opportunity to escape.