by Vicary, Tim
‘Ye ... yes, exactly,’ said Sarah, thinking that’s not quite what I meant but what do you expect, with a devious twisting Jesuitical argument like that? God knows what solicitors do. The stunned blurry confused disappointment had begun to fade from Kathryn’s face, she noted, leaving a ghostly determination behind. Kathryn smiled bleakly.
‘Then maybe you’re right. That wouldn’t be justice, would it?’
‘No.’ What have I unleashed here, Sarah wondered, in the grim silence that followed. ‘That doesn’t mean you should try to kill him again, you know. That’s not what I meant at all.’
‘I know you didn’t,’ said Kathryn, in her new calmer voice. ‘But then it’s not your daughter that was murdered, is it, Mrs Newby? Anyway, don’t worry. We’ve only got one shotgun at home.’
For Terry, the arrest of Kathryn Walters was a nightmare. If Kidd had been convicted, this could never have happened. Kathryn wasn’t a criminal, she was a victim, the mother of a murdered child. And yet here she was, under arrest and about to be charged with - well, what? Attempted murder? If I hadn’t stopped her, Terry thought, she’d have killed him, and been locked up for life. And it’s all Will Churchill’s fault, and mine for not checking up on him in time!
An hour later, with the cartridges burning a hole in his pocket, Terry led Kathryn and Sarah along the corridor to a different interview room. He paused for a moment outside the door. ‘Listen to me, Mrs Walters. In a moment I’ll caution you formally again, but first, let me give you some advice. Say as little as possible, just answer me yes or no if you can. Be advised by Mrs Newby, of course, but I’m telling you this for free.’
Sarah glanced at him curiously as she entered the room, and sat beside Kathryn at the table. What had he meant by that? A young female constable watched impassively from a corner. Terry switched on the tape and read the caution.
‘Now, Mrs Walters, four days ago a man called David Kidd was acquitted of murdering your daughter Shelley at York Crown Court. That’s true, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You, as a mother, must have found that extremely upsetting. Traumatic, even.’
‘Of course I did. How would you feel, if it was your daughter, and that bastard ...’ Sarah put a hand on Kathryn’s arm, to squeeze a warning. But Terry, it seemed, was pursuing an agenda of his own, a rather less aggressive one than Sarah had expected.
‘Yes, all right, Mrs Walters, I understand. Have you been able to sleep since the trial?’
‘Not much, no.’
‘So for the past few days you’ve had hardly any sleep. You’re overtired, and understandably very upset. Is that a fair description?’
‘Yes, of course it is.’
‘Okay. Now the reason you’re here, Mrs Walters, is that this evening you were arrested outside David Kidd’s flat with this shotgun.’ He indicated the shotgun, now absurdly wrapped in a long plastic evidence bag and leaning against the wall. ‘Is it yours?’
‘It’s my husband’s.’
‘What does he use it for?’
‘To shoot rabbits, mostly, and pheasants.’
‘Do you go shooting with him?’
‘No. I don’t like it.’
Where’s he going with this, Sarah wondered. He’s taking a long time to get to the point. Either there’s something wrong with the light in here or the man’s looking ill. Grey, haunted almost. Perhaps he’s not sleeping well.
‘So you’re not used to using the gun?’ Terry continued.
‘No, not really. It’s his thing, not mine. He should have ...’
‘Mrs Walters, just answer the questions, please.’ Terry drew a deep breath. He - and Will Churchill - had put this woman in this position; now he wanted to put things right. But this was the moment of decision; there could be no going back later. He plunged on before he could have second thoughts. It was all being recorded; he had to sound firm and convincing, without the least sign of hesitation.
‘I want you to think about this very carefully, if you will. When I took this shotgun from you I was surprised - relieved perhaps would be a better word - to find that there were no cartridges in it. None at all. The gun was unloaded. You knew that, didn’t you?’
Kathryn and Sarah both stared at Terry in silence. His face was quite wooden, Sarah noted, quite serious. Even when his eyes met hers they were perfectly still. The devious bastard, she thought. He’s lying, he has to be. He means to let her off.
‘I ... no, I ... I don’t remember.’
‘You do know the gun doesn’t work without cartridges, don’t you, Mrs Walters?’
‘Yes, of course I know that.’
‘Yes. But you hadn’t put any cartridges in the gun, Mrs Walters. So however tired and emotional you were, you must have realised the gun couldn’t hurt anybody.’
‘I ... yes, I suppose I did.’
‘All right.’ Terry met Sarah’s eyes again, still avoiding a wink or the slightest sign of conspiracy. This can’t be true, surely, Sarah thought, he has to be making this up. ‘So we need to know what you were doing outside Mr Kidd’s flat with this unloaded shotgun. A gun which you didn’t really know how to use. Were you trying to frighten Mr Kidd, perhaps, Mrs Walters?’
‘I ... maybe, I don’t know.’ Kathryn glanced at Sarah, remembering their earlier interview. ‘I was upset. I may have been ... confused.’
‘You were tired, overwrought, and confused?’
‘I ... yes.’
‘So confused that you made no attempt to load the gun. Nonetheless, Mrs Walters, if Mr Kidd had come out he would have been very frightened, which may be what you intended. Not to kill him, but scare him. Now even taking into account your emotional state, that’s still a serious crime, an assault which can’t be ignored. Do you admit that’s what you intended to do?’
‘If you say so. Yes.’
Terry sighed with relief. That’s it then, he thought. I’ve done it. God knows what will come of this in the future but for the moment, this woman can go home. And if I play my cards carefully that’s all it will ever be; I’ll have made some small atonement at least for the terrible wrong she’s suffered. That she suffered because of me.
‘Very well. Kathryn Walters, I am charging you with threatening behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace. Details of this charge will be forwarded to the Crown Prosecution Service. In the meantime I am impounding this shotgun as evidence, and I advise you to stay well away from David Kidd, however you may feel about him. That’s it. Interview terminated at ten forty seven.’ He switched off the tape. ‘I’ll type up your statement and when you’ve signed it you’ll be free to go.’
‘That’s all?’ Kathryn said in astonishment. ‘I can go home?’
‘When you’ve signed your statement, yes. If you plead guilty the most likely outcome is either a fine, a caution, or both. Do you have any previous convictions?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Well then.’ He leaned forward across the table, his eyes looking directly into hers, trying to look as stern and intimidating as he could. ‘Don’t do it again, Kathryn, that’s my advice to you. You may not be so lucky next time. Go home, and don’t let me catch you anywhere near David Kidd again, okay?’
Kathryn stared at him in bemusement. ‘But you know what happened ...’
Terry took the papers and got to his feet. ‘Not another word, okay? Or I’ll be charging you with wasting police time.’ He glanced at Sarah, wondering if it would ever be possible to explain this to her. Probably not; certainly not now. But maybe she’ll appreciate the justice of what I’m doing, even if she doesn’t understand exactly why. He picked up the shotgun and left the room.
Sarah watched him go, shaking her head in surprise.
33. Mother’s Little Helpers
KATHRYN CAME home from the police station to an empty house. Andrew, she assumed, was with his mistress Carole. She’d thought Miranda would be home, but there was a note from her on the table, something about visiting her friend Liz
zie and not to wait up, she might stay the night. Dazed as she was, Kathryn was more grateful than worried. She’d made a fool of herself, and failed; she didn’t relish the thought of explaining to either of them. Exhausted, she collapsed on her bed for a few hours’ fitful sleep, then drove to Harrogate next morning determined to hide her troubles in work.
The burden of running the pharmacy in recent months had fallen heavily on her partner, Cheryl Wolman, but Cheryl had been in London for the past week with her dying mother. As a result they’d called in a locum, a young man with a reputation for chasing girls who’d already upset several of their elderly customers, and Kathryn sensed the relief when she entered the shop. She was certainly needed: the staff were harassed, customers crotchety, stock control all over the place. Kathryn felt like screaming at the lot of them, slamming the door and running away down the street. Instead she went into the stock cupboard and helped herself to some Valium. Then she floated through the rest of the day like a hologram, empty of feelings. She took some more before she drove home, to find Andrew waiting in the kitchen.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked anxiously.
‘At work. Sorting things out. That young locum’s a disaster.’
‘Your mobile was switched off. I was worried.’
‘Were you? Why? Has Carole found someone else?’
‘Oh come on, Kath, that’s not fair.’
‘Isn’t it?’ She took off her coat. ‘Look, you may as well know. I was arrested last night.’
‘What?’ She made herself a coffee, sat at the table and explained. The Valium made her feel cool, lighthearted, calm. Everything mattered, and yet it didn’t. She watched everything from the kitchen ceiling, encouraged by the performance of her body below.
‘You meant to kill him, you mean!’
‘I couldn’t, could I? That detective lost the cartridges for me.’ Andrew’s horror amused her. Kathryn giggled, and fumbled in the pockets of her coat. ‘There are still some gentlemen left in the world.’ She pulled out some cartridges and lined them up, one by one, on the table. ‘How many does it take to kill a man? One, two, three ...’ She flicked the cartridges down with her finger, one by one like toy soldiers.
As she did so a taxi drew up outside and Miranda came in. At least, it was someone who looked like Miranda, but with her shoulder length brown hair cut brutally short to a two inch length all round, teased into little curls and spikes, stiffened with gel and dyed blonde, with red and orange highlights. Miranda had expected a strong reaction, but to her surprise, her mother contemplated her with disconcerting calm.
‘Ah, here’s another one. What happened to your hair?’
‘I saw it in a fashion magazine. Thought it would cheer me up.’
‘Well, I hope it does. Bruce will get a shock.’
‘Yes.’ Miranda’s husband’s conservative tastes were well known. ‘I’ll manage him.’
‘You were out last night, were you? Just got home?’
Miranda nodded. ‘I stayed over at Lizzie’s. I did phone, but you weren’t here. And then we spent the day in town.’
‘That’s all right. I saw your note. Anyway, I was out last night, too. At the police station.’
‘What?’
Astonished, Miranda collapsed in a chair, as Kathryn explained it all over again. She even made it sound funny at times, with the new chemical grin on her face. You want irony, take the irony tablets. Kathryn was so distant from her real feelings, that she could observe Miranda’s shock with pride. Her daughter’s startling new hairstyle just seemed to fit in with the dreamlike mood of the evening.
‘But Mum, what if he’d opened the door and come out?’
‘I’d have blown a hole in him, to let the truth out.’
‘My God.’ Her mother’s words sounded surreal, insane. And yet similar hazy thoughts of vengeance had been circling in Miranda’s own mind; nothing as violent as this, but the search for a way to make David Kidd pay for his crime. She had one half formed idea, which had been the reason for getting her hair cut. ‘Did you ... look? See him inside?’
‘I saw a man moving. If that detective hadn’t come, I’d have done it.’
‘And then what? Mum, it would have been murder!’
‘Yes, well.’ Kathryn picked up a cartridge from the table. ‘I’d have still had these left, wouldn’t I?’
They stared at her in horror. ‘Kathryn love,’ Andrew said. ‘Are you all right?’
From an immense distance, Kathryn considered the question. ‘No, probably not. But don’t worry, life goes on. That’s what they say, isn’t it?’
‘But what about this charge, the police?’
‘They let me go, with a warning. Don’t shoot people, the man said, it’s wrong. I must remember that. It’s good advice, don’t you think?’ Kathryn laughed - a short, nervous laugh that threatened to run out of control.
‘You’re not well, love. You need a doctor.’
‘No I don’t. I need a daughter.’ With a dizzying jolt, Kathryn fell from the ceiling back into her body, and slumped forward, head in her arms on the table. No, please, not again, the pain’s coming back. Where are those pills, I’ll take some more. She felt Miranda’s arm round her shoulders.
‘You’ve still got me, Mum. For a few more days, anyway.’
‘Yes, that’s good.’
‘Maybe, love,’ Andrew said hesitantly. ‘With your mother in this state, you could stay a few more days.’
Miranda considered. She had an open ticket, but before the trial she’d been planning to go back this week, soon after the verdict which should have seen David Kidd locked away for life. Now, everything was changed. Her mother was clearly unbalanced and if she was to do anything about this plan which she had been hatching all day she would need a little more time. But this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with her parents. They needed care, she thought, and freedom from further worry.
‘Yes, of course I can, Dad. I’ll give Bruce a ring tonight. Sophie won’t be pleased but ...’
‘Don’t stay just for me, darling,’ Kathryn said. ‘I mean, it’s lovely to have you but I’ll manage. I always have before.’
‘You’ve never had this before, though, Mum, have you? None of us have.’
‘No. But don’t worry, I’m not mad. I just thought - it was perfectly rational - that man deserves to die. Unfortunately I failed and ...’ She shook her head wearily. ‘I don’t think I could do it again.’
Andrew reached across the table for her hand. ‘It’s not normal to think like that, love. You’ve been under a lot of stress, of course you have. See Doctor Pegg, he’ll give you something for it, he’ll understand.’
And bring Shelley back, too, will he? Kathryn thought, hazily. I don’t need a doctor, I’ve got the pills in my bag. What I want now is to be left alone. She smiled at Andrew through her tears. ‘Yes, all right. I’ll ring doctor Pegg in the morning.’
‘Good. And no more shooting, okay?’
‘I can’t, can I? They’ve got your gun.’ Kathryn smiled and hauled herself to her feet. The pills were working again. She felt a blissful ease, an exhaustion. ‘You’re right, I do feel strange. Tired, more than anything else. Find something in the freezer, if you’re hungry. Right now, I’m going to bed.’
Terry, too, was feeling strange - depressed, and light-headed, both at once. The depression was fairly easy to account for - it came from guilt, and the shock of not only failing to secure David Kidd’s conviction, but of having betrayed his own principles. Now he too, had tampered with evidence. Naturally he felt depressed. Yet since the arrest of Kathryn Walters, he’d also felt light-headed - infected by an absurd, almost cheerful fever which overlaid the guilty gloom beneath. At least he’d been able to put matters partly right, he thought. If anyone else had arrested Kathryn Walters she’d have been charged with attempted murder; as it was, she’d been released on bail.
I’m becoming a gambler with the truth, Terry thought, as he knocked on Will Churchill’s
door - a high wire artist. If I slip, I’ll lose my job.
Will Churchill, looking up from Terry’s report, was incredulous. ‘Threatening behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace? Are you mad? The woman had a shotgun!’
‘An unloaded shotgun, sir.’
‘Well, she must be mad, too. How d’you know it wasn’t loaded?’
‘First thing I did, sir, was break it open.’ Terry spread his hands wide. ‘Zilch.’
‘What about her pockets? Did you find any cartridges there?’
Terry shook his head, using the eye furthest from Churchill to wink at a photo of a nubile young woman in a wetsuit to the right of his boss’s head. ‘I found no cartridges there either, sir,’ he said, which was true, since he had deliberately avoided searching Kathryn’s clothing. The two cartridges he had extracted from the gun were now in the bin outside his house.
‘Well, what the hell did she think she was doing?’
‘In my view, sir, she was overwrought, and possibly hallucinating from stress and lack of sleep. The main thing is she didn’t cause any harm.’
‘You could have charged her with attempted murder.’
‘She admitted she wanted to scare him, sir, and that’s what she’s charged with.’
Churchill sat back in his leather chair, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘No wonder you don’t get any convictions, Terence. First Kidd, now this. Ever think of joining the social services? They’d take you like a shot.’
There was no answer to this, so Terry studied the young woman in the wetsuit instead. Churchill glanced back at the report. ‘She had a lawyer, of course. Who was it? My God, Mrs Newby! I thought barristers didn’t lower themselves to this sort of thing.’
‘They don’t normally, sir, but she was, er, available at the time, and Mrs Walters requested her services.’
‘Available at the time?’ Churchill smirked. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Not what I think it means, surely?’
‘She was at a restaurant in town, and I reached her on her mobile.’
‘The number of which just happens to be saved on yours.’ Churchill’s grin broadened. ‘Give it up, Terence, you haven’t got a hope with a bird like that. Go on, get out of here, now.’
