by Faith Martin
‘Shush. They’re starting,’ Jake hissed, and the two newbies fell silent as, inside the interview room, Steven spoke into the tape, stating those present, the time, and the fact that Mrs Eileen Millbright had been apprised of her rights and had, so far, declined to speak to a solicitor.
‘Can you please confirm these facts for the tape, please, Mrs Millbright?’ Steven asked politely.
Eileen Millbright cleared her throat slightly, and for the first time since her arrest, spoke. ‘Yes, that’s quite right. My name is Eileen Millbright, and I don’t need a solicitor, as I have done nothing wrong. Nor have I committed any crime. I’ve been a law-abiding citizen for all my life.’
And right at that moment, Hillary thought grimly, she certainly looked like it. Dressed in a pair of grey slacks, with a pale purple tunic, the older woman looked eminently respectable. No jury was going to find her unsympathetic.
Hillary felt her shoulders stiffen as she realized that there were going to be rough times ahead. It was clear that Eileen Millbright was a clever, intelligent woman who didn’t intimidate easily. It was also clear that she’d chosen the path she intended to go down, and would not easily be dissuaded from it. She was simply going to deny everything, and challenge them to prove it. Which was going to be difficult. Damned difficult in fact.
Beside her, she could feel Steven’s tension as he too recognized all the signs of a canny, stubborn opponent. He slowly leaned back in his chair, making it clear that, although he was the ranking officer, this was all Hillary’s show. Which made sense, Jake Barnes thought, watching the body language of his two bosses with intense, interested eyes. Hillary was known for her interviewing prowess.
‘Mrs Millbright. I think you should know that we have your nephew, Peter Goodman, in custody,’ Hillary said, going at once for the jugular. When somebody was as confident as Eileen that her position was unassailable, it was best to get in a body blow quickly. The sooner she could put a crack in her armour, the better.
Eileen’s somewhat watery blue eyes blinked, just the once. Her slightly arthritic hands, lying in front of her on the table, clenched slightly, turning her knuckles momentarily white.
‘Really? I can’t think what for,’ she said calmly. Her low, deep voice sounded calm and unruffled.
Hillary almost felt like applauding her. She had guts, this woman. But then, she supposed, in a way it took guts to cold-bloodedly plan and execute the killing of another human being. Either that, or total cowardice.
‘He’s told us everything, I’m afraid,’ Hillary carried on, less than truthfully. She hadn’t checked in on Jimmy’s progress with Peter Goodman because she hadn’t wanted to interrupt whatever bond he’d managed to form with the bartender. But she had confidence in both Jimmy and her own reading of Goodman’s need to talk.
‘I still have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Eileen Millbright said stubbornly. ‘May I have a glass of water, please? I can sense this may take some time, and I’m somewhat thirsty.’
‘Of course. Would you prefer a cup of tea?’ Hillary asked pleasantly.
‘No, thank you. Some of that water would be fine.’
‘Mrs Hillary Greene is pouring the witness a glass of water,’ Steven Crayle said neutrally, for the tape.
In the observation room, Jake and Zoe watched, fascinated, as the unruffled white-haired woman took a drink. ‘Bloody hell, it’s like watching a scene from a play at a theatre,’ Zoe breathed.
And Jake knew just what she meant. The tension he could feel just between him and Zoe, watching it all, was almost unbearable. What must it be like in there? The super looked totally calm but that had to be an act, right? Jake, novice that he was, could tell that if Hillary Greene couldn’t crack the old woman’s equilibrium they were up the creek without a paddle. So how much more uptight must Hillary Greene be feeling? Not that you could tell, from looking at her.
‘I think we need to establish a few things before we continue, Mrs Millbright,’ Hillary said pleasantly. ‘Just facts that can be clearly corroborated. Peter Goodman is your nephew, yes? The son of Martin Goodman, your second husband’s brother?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Eileen agreed calmly. ‘I’ve known Peter since he was a baby. I’ve always been fond of him.’
‘So fond of him that you got him the job of tending the bar at the party where Felix Olliphant was murdered. You are an old friend of Querida Phelps, are you not? I have just finished speaking to Mrs Phelps,’ she went on, quite truthfully this time. While Steven had been processing Eileen Millbright’s admission with the custody sergeant, she’d taken the opportunity to have a quick word with the hostess of the costume party.
‘It was something she said when I interviewed her that suddenly made sense,’ Hillary went on, as Eileen Millbright hesitated to answer. ‘She told me that an old friend of hers had given her the idea for the party. And when I spoke to her just now, she confirmed that that old friend was you.’
Eileen Millbright’s lips twisted in a brief smile. Her eyes, still level and cool, showed the merest spark of anger as they acknowledged Hillary’s latest hit. ‘Yes, I’ve known Querida for aeons. We graduated from Cheltenham Ladies’ College together. We went down very different paths after that, as I’m sure you could tell, but we kept in touch. I was, and still am, very fond of Querida.’
Hillary smiled. ‘Yes, Mrs Phelps has a very engaging way about her. So when she wanted to throw a big party for the New Year celebrations, you suggested that she throw a costume party.’
‘I don’t recall that,’ Eileen denied firmly, not about to fall into the trap so easily. ‘I do believe that was Querida’s idea. She has always been far more bohemian, shall we say, than myself.’ Eileen spread her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘As you can see, I’m not the type to have much of an imagination. No, I’m quite sure it was Querida who came up with the idea of fancy dress. That’s much more her line, don’t you think?’
Hillary smiled gently. Very good, she thought. But not good enough. ‘I’m afraid Mrs Phelps remembers it quite differently. She assured me, not ten minutes ago, that she can remember you and her having lunch in Browns one day in the autumn, with her telling you that she wanted to do something big for the millennium. And after a few drinks, you coming up with the idea of a costume ball. You said that her newly decorated house would be just the setting for it.’
‘After a few drinks?’ Eileen pounced. ‘Well, there you are then. I daresay Querida was a bit squiffy and not remembering things correctly.’
Hillary nodded. She really was good, no two ways about it. And she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Obviously a change of tactics was needed. Trading intelligent facts with her wasn’t going to work.
It was time to get down and dirty.
Hillary sighed slightly. ‘Ah yes. Mrs Phelps has a wonderful home, hasn’t she? A converted water mill, I believe. Felix Olliphant and his company really did her proud on fitting it out, didn’t they? I thought it was quite spectacular when I visited it.’
Eileen Millbright’s lips tightened, almost imperceptibly. ‘I believe Felix was very good at his job,’ she said blandly. ‘Certainly, Querida was happy with his work, which is all that matters.’
‘I’m surprised she didn’t invite you to the party,’ Hillary slipped in smoothly. ‘You being such old friends, and it being your idea and everything.’
‘I’m not the partying type, Mrs Greene,’ Eileen said primly. ‘And although I do believe that she did invite me, she knew that, and wasn’t surprised, or offended, when I turned her down.’
‘Ah yes, she said something of the kind to me just now,’ Hillary agreed. ‘She also told me that you offered her the services of your nephew to tend the bar for her.’
She waited to see if Eileen would also deny this, but wasn’t particularly surprised when the other woman, after a fraction of a second’s thought, nodded. She was far too wily to be caught out in a needless lie.
‘Yes. Peter was only just getting in
to bartending at the time and needed the money. The young always do, don’t they?’
‘Yes. So you arranged for Peter Goodman to tend bar that night?’
‘I believe I just said so.’
‘Did you also arrange his costume for him?’ Hillary pressed gently.
‘I … his costume?’ Eileen reached for her glass and took another sip.
Hillary smiled. ‘Yes. His costume. It was that of a fox, I believe. An old football mascot, I believe he said.’
Eileen’s eyes flickered for a moment and Hillary knew she was on to something. Maybe nothing big but every little helped in moments like this. ‘It won’t take us long, I imagine, to find out where and how he came by it. After all, the people who had been in possession of it would probably remember loaning it out.’
‘Yes. I believe I did get it for him,’ Eileen reluctantly admitted. ‘My husband, my second husband, that is, used to play in a senior league for his local village team. The Ferrington Foxes, I believe they called themselves. When it became obvious that Peter would need a costume, I thought it would save the lad some money if he didn’t have to rent out something.’
‘But that’s not the true reason you arranged to take possession of the fox outfit, is it, Mrs Millbright? You really needed it because it was the type of outfit that fully covered its wearer, from top to toe. Unlike some of the costumes there, that required only an eye mask, or a carnival mask, the fox outfit would completely hide and obliterate the identity of whoever was wearing it. Isn’t that so?’
Eileen Millbright shrugged one thin shoulder. ‘I really can’t remember.’
‘We have plenty of witnesses from the party who can testify that it did,’ Hillary said gently.
‘I dare say,’ Eileen Millbright said, sounding bored.
‘Which is just as well. Considering that it wasn’t your nephew Peter Goodman who was inside it that night,’ Hillary continued. ‘He’s already admitted that he never went anywhere near Querida Phelps’s house that New Year’s Eve. In fact, he had no idea about the bartending job. He’d been at an illegal rave all that night. The first he knew about it was early the next morning, when you arrived on his doorstep and told him what he had to say when the police came calling,’ Hillary recited the accusation in a matter-of-fact tone that made Zoe Turnbull’s blood run cold.
‘That’s utterly untrue,’ Eileen Millbright said flatly. ‘And if the lad is saying anything else, then I can only imagine that you’ve been bullying him. The police have something of a reputation for brutality, don’t they? And Peter has always been rather a nervous boy.’
Hillary let the slur pass and went straight for the relevant comment. ‘Yes, I thought he was something of a weak character too. No doubt that’s why you were so sure you could control him and make him do as he was told. After all, it wouldn’t be hard for someone like yourself, with, if I may say, a very strong personality, to convince him that he could be in trouble if he got mixed up in a murder case. It would have been easy for you to convince him that he could be arrested for aiding and abetting, or being an accessory after the fact. Or did you simply pay him to keep quiet? I daresay he could always use some money, yes?’
‘Certainly not,’ Eileen Millbright said flatly. ‘You really are talking nonsense, you know. Just what are you accusing me of exactly?’
And as Hillary Greene looked at Felix Olliphant’s killer, she knew that there was really only one way she was going to have any chance of bringing it home to her. She had to play on her emotions – specifically, her love for her son. She needed to bypass the woman’s brain and go right for her heart.
But if she weathered that, Hillary would have nothing else in reserve. Which meant it was a big gamble. And if it didn’t pay off… .
She took a breath. ‘I think you planned the whole thing, Mrs Millbright. I think you manipulated your old friend Querida Phelps into holding a fancy dress costume party that New Year’s Eve night. I think you told her your nephew would tend bar, but that it was you who dressed up in the fox costume and tended bar that night. You have a lean figure, and if I may say so, a deep, rather masculine voice. There was no reason why anyone should suspect it was a woman inside the costume. It was noisy that night anyway. Who would notice? You knew that Felix Olliphant had been invited, and as the bartender you were in the perfect position to make sure that every fruit juice you served him, or his girlfriend, was spiked with large amounts of vodka or gin.’
Hillary paused, but when Eileen remained silent, her blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on her, she carried on.
‘I think you watched him getting progressively drunk and awaited your opportunity. You needed to catch him without his girlfriend in tow, and when that time finally came, sometime just before the countdown, I would imagine, you suggested he go up and lie down. By then he would have been drunk, and not used to being intoxicated was probably very easily persuaded and led. You took him to the bedroom where the coats were stored, got him to lay down on the bed and partially covered him with coats. He probably went to sleep straight away. Or he may just have been too confused to understand what was happening to him. You may even have taken your costume off, to avoid getting blood on it – I’m not sure. But then, with a knife, or some other implement that you had prepared beforehand and secreted on your person, you stabbed him to death. You then left. It really was as simple as that.’
Eileen Millbright slowly poured herself some more water and sipped it.
‘Pure fantasy. All of it,’ she said. ‘And you can’t prove a word of it. Besides all that, why on earth should I kill Felix Olliphant anyway? He was a good friend of my son, Harry. I told you.’
‘I know what you told me,’ Hillary said flatly. ‘But that was all lies, wasn’t it, Mrs Millbright?’
Eileen’s hand trembled slightly. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your son didn’t have a steady boyfriend, and he certainly didn’t fall after trying to fix a television aerial, did he?’ Hillary said, feeling herself tense. Here it comes, she thought. It’s now or never. ‘He deliberately threw himself from the balcony, didn’t he?’ she went on calmly. ‘Because although he was deeply in love with Felix Olliphant, and probably had been for some time, Felix wouldn’t love him back, would he? Not like Harry wanted him to. Not like he needed him to.’
Eileen Millbright stiffened all over. ‘Don’t you dare talk about my son,’ she said, her voice finally cracking.
‘Why not? Isn’t he worth talking about, Eileen? Isn’t he the catalyst for all of this? Isn’t he the reason Felix had to die?’
‘I will not tolerate this. I’m leaving.’ She made to rise, but Hillary was still talking.
‘I’m sure Harry was a lovely boy, Eileen. Loving, kind, but too gentle for his own good, I expect? The world was always able to hurt him, wasn’t it? Even with you there to protect and help him. But not even you could save him from getting his heart broken, could you? And when the man he loved couldn’t save him either—’
‘Not couldn’t!’ Eileen Millbright suddenly snapped savagely. ‘He wouldn’t. That’s hardly the same thing.’
She was breathing hard now, and Hillary leaned forward across the table, her face full of sympathy. ‘It must have driven you mad afterwards,’ Hillary agreed quietly, letting understanding flood her voice and her face. ‘To see and hear about Felix from Querida all the time, going on and on about how her fabulous new designer was doing wonders on her house. About how he was going to attend the party, with his pretty blonde girlfriend. About how he was alive and happy in the world, whilst—’
‘My Harry was dead,’ Eileen interrupted flatly. ‘Dead and buried and gone. Just gone. Where I couldn’t find him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right!’
Hillary took a deep, shaky breath. ‘Did you see him actually jump?’ she asked gently. ‘That day?’
‘No. It was like I told you – well, apart from the television playing up. It wasn’t, of course, you were right about that. We’d been talking about Felix, of cours
e. How Harry needed him to just … Oh, what’s the use? When I went to make us some hot chocolate … that always made him feel better, as a little boy, when he was upset. I thought … But when I came back, the living room was empty, and the French windows leading to the balcony were open and when I went out and looked down … He hadn’t made a sound. Can you imagine that? His despair was so deep, he hadn’t even cried out when falling so far.’
For a moment, the room was silent. Hideously silent. And then Hillary nodded. ‘I’m so very sorry. It must have been a nightmare for you.’
‘You can’t imagine,’ Eileen Millbright said bitterly.
‘No. And the funeral must have been even worse. Seeing Felix there. Knowing he was to blame.’
‘The hypocrite brought flowers. Flowers! Why couldn’t he have brought my son flowers when he was alive, tell me that?’ She was almost shouting now. ‘Just a kind word. Just to give him some hope that one day they might be together.’
‘But he wasn’t gay, Mrs Millbright,’ Hillary Greene said gently. ‘Felix could never have loved your son the way Harry wanted him to. Don’t you see? It would never have worked out, no matter what Felix had tried to do.’
‘He didn’t deserve to live. Not when my son was dead,’ Eileen Millbright said stubbornly.
‘And so you killed him?’ Hillary said flatly.
‘Yes.’
Beside her, she felt Steven finally relax.
‘Yes. It was just like you said,’ she agreed quietly, all the fight draining out of her. ‘I don’t mind getting caught. Not really. Harry was worth it, you see. He was all I had, anyway. I expect you want me to write it all down now?’ Eileen said.
Hillary nodded, and handed over a pad and pen.
It was hours later when the team finally met up at The Boat, Hillary’s local at Thrupp. It was something of a dual celebration, for Jimmy and Sam had also managed to bring down Knocker Clarke and his gang.
‘There were times there, guv, when I didn’t think she was going to crack,’ Jake Barnes said, after buying in his round and dispensing the glasses around their table.
