Innocent

by Kinsley, Erin

Fifty-two

  The video’s been recorded in a bleak, white room, hard fluorescent light, no windows. Gemma looks unwell, her lips dry.

  Muir’s team are gathered round a monitor to watch. The voice asking the questions is Weld’s, and she’s taking it slowly, not applying any pressure. Out of shot, the appropriate adult and Gemma’s lawyer are making sure of that.

  Weld pushes a cheap phone in a clear evidence bag across the table.

  ‘Is this your phone, Gemma?’

  Gemma glances at it and nods.

  ‘Your dad bought it for you, is that right?’

  She nods again.

  ‘And that was recently?’

  ‘I had a decent phone on contract, but Dad said my bills were way too high. He got me that instead and made me pay my own top-ups.’

  ‘Did you use this phone to call Tristan?’

  Gemma gives no answer. Weld leaves plenty of time for her to speak, then moves on.

  ‘Can you tell us what happened between you and Tristan at the wedding?’

  On the screen, Gemma looks down at her hands, and starts to pick at a hangnail. Her fingernails are bitten down to the quick. Weld’s assuming she’s going to maintain her silence – no doubt she’s had the lawyer’s standard No comment advice – but then Gemma looks up and says, ‘He asked me to meet him by the pool.’

  Calmly, Weld asks, ‘When did he ask you to do that?’

  Gemma mumbles her reply. Muir rewinds a few seconds and turns up the volume.

  ‘At the wedding, after we ate. He came over to talk to me and my friends and he asked me then.’

  ‘How did he manage to do that?’ asks Weld’s voice. ‘With all those people around that must have been quite difficult.’

  ‘I was in a group, and he bent down and said it in my ear. I suppose he thought in that situation he could speak to me without Izzy noticing.’

  ‘Izzy being Isobel, his wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So he suggested you should meet him in secret – is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you were compliant?’

  ‘I don’t know what that means.’

  ‘I’m asking if you wanted to meet up with him as much as he wanted to meet up with you.’

  Gemma lapses back into silence, folding her arms and staring directly at the wall behind Weld’s head, as if there’s something fascinating there.

  An unseen woman’s voice – the lawyer’s – says, ‘You can say No comment to any question you don’t want to answer, Gemma.’

  ‘Why did you go to meet him, Gemma?’ persists Weld. ‘What were you expecting to happen?’

  Gemma’s cheeks flush pink, a blush of embarrassment.

  ‘Did you think he was attractive?’

  She shrugs. ‘Not really.’

  ‘A bit old for you, maybe?’

  Gemma nods.

  ‘But you still went. Did you tell anyone you were going?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t tell any of your friends?’

  No response.

  ‘Was that because you thought what you were doing was wrong?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was wrong,’ objects Gemma. ‘Our families are friends. Izzy and my mum are good mates.’

  ‘So with him being a family friend, you thought you would be safe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you still didn’t tell anyone?’

  ‘I thought it would be a laugh. I thought he might buy me a drink. My mum wouldn’t have liked that.’

  ‘Obtaining alcohol for you would be against the law. Did he do that?’

  ‘Kind of. He brought a bottle of champagne with him.’

  ‘Just a bottle? No glasses?’

  ‘Two glasses.’

  ‘What kind of glasses?’

  ‘Wine glasses.’

  ‘Round ones, tall ones, big ones – what kind of wine glasses?’

  ‘The tall, thin kind.’

  ‘So there you were, you two alone by the pool. What happened next?’

  A short silence.

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘We need you to remember, Gemma. This is terribly important. What I don’t want you to worry about is being embarrassed. Whatever you say we don’t have to share with anyone you don’t want us to. OK? We just need to get to the truth. So please, do your very best to remember. Did you drink any champagne?’

  ‘Yes. He opened it and we both drank some.’

  Weld senses Gooch shift in her chair.

  ‘And while you were drinking, what else were you doing? What were you talking about?’

  ‘About the wedding, mostly. About whether I was having a good time. Just chat.’

  ‘Just friendly chat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He didn’t say anything to you of a sexual nature?’

  Gemma blushes deeply. ‘He said I was beautiful.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Weld waits, but there’s nothing more.

  She continues probing. ‘Did you mind him saying that?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Well, you have to think about Tristan’s age, don’t you? How old would you say he is? As old as your dad, maybe?’

  ‘About that.’

  ‘Who’s your best friend at school, Gemma?’

  Gemma frowns at the change of tack. ‘Hannah, I suppose. What’s she got to do with it?’

  ‘If you found out your dad was telling Hannah she was beautiful and getting her to drink champagne, would you think that was an OK thing to do? Or would you think it was creepy?’

  ‘I’d think it was disgusting.’

  ‘Don’t you think people might think the same about Tristan doing that with you? That his behaviour was inappropriate?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Did you think it was OK because of who he was? On TV, I mean. I suppose it must have felt glamorous, drinking champagne with a TV star.’

  No response.

  ‘So what happened next?’

  Gemma starts to look upset.

  ‘Everything turned bad. He tried to kiss me but I didn’t want him to. He grabbed my wrists and started pushing me up against the wall. I asked him to stop but he didn’t, so I hit him to get him off me. I was frightened. I thought he was going to rape me.’

  ‘If he had hold of your wrists, how did you pick up the bottle?’ asks Weld.

  Gemma looks tearful and bewildered.

  ‘I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I wanted to get him off me. I was frightened, and I didn’t want to get raped. Can we have a break, please?’ She turns her head to ask this last question of someone sitting beside her.

  ‘All right, Gemma,’ says Weld. ‘I think that’s enough for this evening.’

  When Flora’s asleep and her mother’s settled down in front of the TV, Izzy sits down at the kitchen table and turns on her phone.

  She’s missed a lot of messages and calls. Most can wait till morning, but there’s a recent voicemail from Weld which she thinks she should listen to.

  ‘Hi Izzy, this is Kirstie Weld from West Mercia CID. I’m calling to let you know we’ve made an arrest in Tristan’s case. Can you call me as soon as you get this, please, and I’ll update you.’

  An arrest can only mean one thing.

  Izzy sees red.

  Fifty-three

  Aidan’s sitting in the near-dark.

  Along the cul-de-sac, someone’s having a party, and the thump of upbeat, bright music only blackens his mood.

  Laura lets herself in the front door, drops her handbag on the stairs and goes to him on the sofa, letting herself be folded into his arms. A moment passes where neither of them speak, not wanti
ng to break the sanctuary spell of silence. Once they begin to talk, their catastrophe will become overwhelmingly real.

  Aidan says, ‘Tell me,’ and Laura shakes her head, not knowing where to begin.

  ‘She did it, didn’t she?’

  Laura sits up. ‘I need to get something for my headache.’

  In the kitchen, she takes two paracetamol. Finding vodka at the back of the fridge, she pours two long measures into tumblers and tops them off with orange juice.

  Back in the lounge, she hands a glass to Aidan and they both drink.

  Now they sit side by side but with space between them.

  ‘They let me speak to her, like you said,’ says Laura. ‘Yes, she did it.’

  Aidan bows his head. ‘For Christ’s sake. Why?’

  ‘It wasn’t her fault. He tried to seduce her, and when she said no, he was going to force her. It was self-defence.’

  ‘She hit him with the bottle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did she hit him so hard?’

  ‘She must have been so scared, Aidan. It kills me to think about her being in that situation. Why weren’t we there to help?’

  ‘Why were they together?’

  ‘He asked her to meet him. She thought he was planning some kind of surprise for Izzy.’

  ‘And the champagne? Where did that come from?’

  ‘She says he brought it with him. A tool of seduction, I suppose.’

  Aidan shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been such a mug. When I think how we’ve been taken in.’

  ‘She won’t go to prison, will she? Not if it’s self-defence.’

  Aidan swallows what remains of his drink. ‘Not if I have anything to do with it. But our little girl against one of the darlings of the entertainment world? I think we’re going to have a fight on our hands.’

  ‘Then we’ll fight with everything we’ve got.’

  Aidan reaches out and touches her face.

  ‘What have we got, Laura? Not money, that’s for sure.’

  ‘We’ll sell the house. We won’t be staying in Sterndale anyway, not after this. And he isn’t the first. There are plenty like him locked away for doing the same thing. We’ll get her the best lawyers. They’ll make sure she doesn’t pay for what he tried to do.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Please, we have to be positive. Why wouldn’t people be on her side?’

  ‘Because,’ says Aidan, ‘Tristan isn’t like those others. Even when you were telling me what Izzy had found out about him, with his other women and his burner phone, I didn’t quite believe it. It just didn’t seem like the Tris we think we know. He’s plausible, people like him. Didn’t I fall for his bullshit, and let him recruit me in his tax evasion scam?’

  ‘You don’t know that was bullshit.’

  ‘No, I don’t know for sure. But when the police were grilling me and laid out the possibility, I felt such an idiot for not thinking of it myself. I mean, who actually does that, just gives someone money because they need it? But he always seemed so genuine. What if a jury feels the same, buys into the image and thinks it’s impossible for him to have done wrong? Gemma could end up with a criminal record and a life in ruins, and I would take that very, very hard, because the thought of him touching our daughter makes me want to throw up.’

  ‘You’re thinking about that girl, aren’t you?’

  Aidan nods. ‘Faith Ogden. Raped by a taxi driver with form as long as your arm, none of it admissible in court. What did CID tell her? All you have to do is tell the truth, and you’ll be fine. But that toe-rag was likeable and not bad-looking, she’d been drinking, so when he claimed it was consensual, the jury believed him. By the time she reported it, any bruises or other injuries were gone. She had no evidence to support her case, and he walked free.’

  ‘We won’t let it be like that for Gemma. Will we?’

  The doorbell rings.

  Aidan goes to answer the door. The pulsing party music down the street has been turned down, and a few people are beginning to leave, calling to each other as they head for their cars.

  In the fading light, for a moment he isn’t sure it’s her. The Izzy in his mind is a slender, elegant beauty, wholly unlike this haggard, emaciated creature on the doorstep. A part of him is pleased to see her, but only until he remembers Gemma. Then he doesn’t know what to say to her, so he says simply, ‘Izzy.’

  And loud enough to catch the ears of the party guests, she says, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  Laura comes to stand at Aidan’s shoulder.

  He decides he’s going to keep his cool.

  ‘I live here,’ he says. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I came for a word with my so-called friend there,’ says Izzy, waving a contemptuous hand at Laura. ‘I got a message to say you’d been arrested. For my husband’s murder.’

  Sensing an escalating drama, the party guests are slowing their departures.

  ‘You’ve been misinformed, then,’ says Aidan. ‘See, here I am, still at liberty.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ says Izzy, beginning to blush, realising Weld’s message said only that an arrest had been made. Unaware of anyone apart from Aidan being under suspicion, plainly she’s made a dreadful mistake.

  But as she’s about to apologise, Laura steps forward, right in Izzy’s face.

  ‘I’ll tell you who’s been arrested, lady,’ she spits. ‘Our daughter, that’s who. And since you seem to be out of the loop, let me fill you in. Your husband tried to take advantage of her. He tried to rape her. You and your perfect marriage, your perfect bloody everything, when he was nothing but a dirty, disgusting pervert. That’s who your wonderful husband was, another monster hiding in plain sight.’

  The slap Izzy lands on Laura’s cheek is hard. The sound of it echoes between the houses, and the party guests fall into astonished silence, watching to see what will happen next.

  Laura puts her hand up to her face and covers her stinging cheek.

  Aidan looks at Izzy.

  ‘I think you need to go now,’ he says.

  Watching her walk back to the Range Rover, he feels both anger and regret.

  He doesn’t wait for her to start the engine before he closes the door.

  He goes to comfort Laura, while the party guests are already busy on their phones.

  Izzy doesn’t drive far before she pulls over. Not giving a damn about the time, she finds her phone and dials Weld’s number.

  Weld answers on the fifth ring, sounding drowsy, as if she might have been asleep.

  ‘Izzy. Hi.’

  ‘Who have you arrested?’ demands Izzy.

  Weld doesn’t immediately answer, and Izzy knows she’s deciding how much to say.

  ‘We’ve been trying to get in touch with you,’ says Weld eventually. ‘I left you a couple of messages.’

  ‘I’ve only just picked them up,’ says Izzy. ‘Where we’ve been, the signal was terrible. Could you please tell me what’s been going on?’

  ‘This is a conversation I’d far rather have in person, but since you’re asking, we’re currently talking to Gemma Ridley, who was brought in this afternoon. We’ve spoken to her at some length, and we’ll be interviewing her again tomorrow.’

  ‘Did she do it?’

  ‘It’s far too early to say.’

  ‘But you must have your reasons.’

  ‘We have our suspicions. But I promise we’ll keep you updated, if you make sure I can get in touch.’

  After the call’s ended, Izzy sits a while, taking in what Weld has said.

  Not Aidan, but sweet, gentle Gemma.

  Sounds like Laura was right.

  She’s been deluded and hoodwinked, trapped into playing the gullible wife to an absolute master of deceit.

  Fifty
-four

  As Weld prepares for Gemma’s second interview, Gooch brings her coffee, a dull latte from the first-floor machine.

  Weld takes a sip and pulls a face. ‘At least it’s reliably bad. I’ve spoken to Nate about the outcome of yesterday’s search, and he’s confirmed via Facebook photos that the dress and shoes they found hidden at the back of Gemma’s wardrobe are the ones she was wearing at the wedding. They’ve sent them to forensics as a rush job, but there’s no way we’ll have the results today.’

  ‘Do you think there’ll be enough to send her to trial?’ asks Gooch.

  ‘If she hit him with that bottle, they’ll find blood spatter, and with a match to Tristan, we won’t need too much else. What did you make of yesterday’s interview?’

  Afraid of calling it wrong, Gooch is reluctant to offer an opinion.

  ‘Something’s off to me,’ she says, in the end. ‘I don’t think she was telling the truth.’

  ‘That’s very astute of you,’ says Weld. ‘As a matter of fact, I didn’t think she was, either. So let’s see if she’s reconsidered, now she’s had chance to reflect overnight.’

  ‘The thing is, Gemma, there are one or two things we already know which don’t quite fit with what you’ve told us so far,’ says Weld. ‘For example, Tristan’s wife Izzy – you know Izzy, don’t you? She’s told us Tristan didn’t drink alcohol. Never. Which leads us to wonder how come he was drinking with you.’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose he was trying to get me drunk.’

  ‘So you’d be less likely to object when he touched you? Is that what you mean?’

  A shrug. ‘Suppose.’

  ‘And can you just clarify for us how this meeting came to be arranged. You said . . .’ Weld appears to be reading from her notes. ‘Here we are. You said that he asked you to meet him, but we’re wondering whether it might have been the other way around. That maybe you asked him to meet you.’

  A short silence.

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Did you have a crush on him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You deny that you had any interest in Tristan?’

  ‘Why would I be interested in him?’

  ‘Lots of women are. People think of him as an attractive man, and here you are with easy access to him.’