(2011) Only the Innocent (36 page)

‘It’s Chief Inspector. And of course we know about your parents, but we also have access to your bank details, and there is no evidence of any money coming from that source. The only money coming into your account is your salary, which after tax and deductions is used almost in full to pay your mortgage.’

‘Well,’ she responded with a superior smile ‘that’s your answer, isn’t it? My salary covers my mortgage.’

‘Yes, but Jessica you drive a Mercedes SLK, brand new, and you still have to eat. And even I’ve noticed that your clothes are not exactly your average high street brand. So how, precisely, do you manage all of that?’

‘It’s very simple. My father regularly supplements my earnings. I only have to ask.’ Jessica was leaning back comfortably in her chair. She picked an imaginary piece of fluff off her black and white checked skirt.

‘So if I went to your father and asked him the question, would he give the answer you’re expecting?’

‘Of course he would. Daddy has never been mean where money is concerned.’

Tom was in no mood to give up.

‘By my calculations, just to pay your household bills, buy food, put fuel in the car - which we know by the way is being paid off in twelve fairly hefty monthly instalments - not to mention clothes, holidays and entertainment, you would need several thousand each month. If we asked your father if he gave you, let’s say, in excess of five thousand pounds per month, would he confirm that?’

For the first time, Tom could see that Jessica was uncomfortable. He used the moment to advantage.

‘Did he, for example, pay for your holiday at the Saint Geran on Mauritius last year? Isn’t that the most expensive hotel on the island?’

‘Not necessarily. It’s thought by many to have the most class, but there are several good hotels there now.’ Jessica answered, hiding behind her natural arrogance.

‘You’re not answering my question. How did you pay for that holiday?’

‘Actually, I paid with my bonus.’

‘What bonus? Wouldn’t a bonus be paid into the bank along with your salary?’

Not that Tom had ever had a bonus, but this woman’s haughty tone and condescending attitude were riling him. She answered him with a complacent smirk.

‘Sir Hugo sometimes gave me a bonus in cash.’

Tom banged the palms of his hands on the table, and leaned back with what he hoped she would see as a look of disbelief.

‘Are you telling me that Sir Hugo Fletcher, pillar of society, paid his staff on the black? I really don’t think so, Jessica. Try again.’

Jessica stubbornly refused to say more, so Tom changed direction - for the moment.

‘Can you tell me whether you ever went into the apartment upstairs in Egerton Crescent, Jessica?’

Looking relieved, she returned to her normal slightly supercilious self.

‘Of course I did. Sir Hugo used to stay up in London quite a lot, and I always thought it would be nice for him if the drawing room were prepared for his evening - you know the sort of thing - newspaper at hand, lamps lit, all the decanters topped up, ice bucket filled. Just to make sure he was comfortable. I usually only went into the drawing room and kitchen, but sometimes I did take the laundry up to his room. I didn’t put it away though. I wasn’t sure if he’d like that.’

My God, thought Tom. What was that about her obsession with him being over some time ago?

Seeing her looking more relaxed, he switched back quickly to his previous line of questioning.

‘Did he ever give you presents, Jessica, or was it just cash? Your ‘bonuses’?’

Jessica looked puzzled.

‘He never gave me presents. Why would you want to know that?’

‘Would you have any objection if a couple of my colleagues went with you to your apartment and had a look around? We could get a search warrant, but there’s no need if you’re prepared to cooperate.’

Tom seriously doubted that he had grounds for a warrant, but hoped that Jessica wouldn’t know that. As usual, he underestimated her.

‘I suspect that would prove rather difficult for you, Chief Inspector. But I have nothing to hide. Be my guest.’ Jessica opened her bag and withdrew a set of keys, which she proceeded to dangle in front of Tom’s face. She shook them.

‘Here you are - take them.’

‘We’d like you to accompany us, please.’

‘There’s no need. I’ll call my housekeeper and ask her to be there. The apartment is immaculate, and I expect it to remain that way. I would prefer to stay here and get to the end of this somewhat tedious questioning so that I can get back to work.’

Tom asked Ajay to go and organise the search, and to bring back some refreshments. He didn’t want to upset Jessica too much until the search had been conducted in case she withdrew her permission. But given the ease with which she had acceded to their request, he wasn’t hopeful that they would find anything. She was hardly likely to have left a red wig or a phial of liquid nicotine lying around.

After their brief break, Tom was determined to wipe the smile of this girl’s face. He took it slowly for a while, but not for long.

‘Right, Jessica. You’ve already told us that Sir Hugo gave you money from time to time. What I want to know is how much, and how often.’

‘I don’t actually believe that is any of your business.’

Tom was reaching the end of his tether. He had dealt with some real crooks in his time, but he struggled to think of anybody who he had found as frustrating as bloody Jessica Armstrong. He leaned forward.

‘Are you refusing to answer the question?’

‘Yes. As I said, it is none of your business.’

‘So exactly what was he paying you for, Jessica? Your body, or your silence?’

Jessica looked stunned. Her eyes filled and she swallowed hard. Tom had clearly hit a nerve.

‘It was neither. How dare you!’

Tom’s patience had passed the point of no return. He pushed his chair back with a loud scraping noise, stood up and marched to the door, turning as he went out to deliver his parting shot.

‘For Christ’s sake, this is ridiculous. Ajay - would you please carry on with the interview, because we’re getting absolutely nowhere.’

*

In the end, they had decided to let Jessica go home, with strict instructions to return the next day. Tom thought it would do her good to have a bit of thinking time. Or maybe worrying time.

The following day some of his irritation had dissipated, but he still needed some answers.

As expected, nothing of any interest had been revealed at the apartment, but that was inconclusive. She was an intelligent woman, and now that he knew her a little better he was sure she wouldn’t have left a scrap of useful evidence.

It all came down to the money. Why did men give money to women? Only one reason, as far as Tom could see. She
must
have been his mistress, but does that mean that she murdered him? It would have been so easy for her - she had ready access to the flat, and her fingerprints were all over anyway. They weren’t in the bedroom, although she did admit going in there with the laundry. But that didn’t mean anything either. She could easily have gone in and put everything on the bed without touching a thing.

Tom was ready for her. He was not going to be beaten by sodding Jessica Armstrong.

‘Okay, Jessica, let’s start from the top. You are being taped, and if we find out later that you’ve lied to us, I will charge you with wasting police time. Do you understand me?’

Jessica looked momentarily alarmed, but nodded her head.

‘You need to answer, Jessica. For the tape. I repeat - do you understand me?’

‘Yes’

‘Right. When did you buy your house?’

‘Two years ago.’

‘How did you find the two hundred thousand pounds that was the difference between your mortgage and the price?’

‘My father gave it to me.
Don’t
look like that. It’s true. Ask him if you don’t believe me.’

‘How did he think that you were going to be able to pay the mortgage?’

‘I don’t mean to be rude, Chief Inspector, but do you have a rich father? Mine is very rich indeed, but actually has no interest in anything at all other than making money. I simply told him that Sir Hugo had decided I was invaluable, and had doubled my salary. He wasn’t sufficiently interested in what I do to even query it. He just said something like ‘jolly good, dear’ and carried on reading The Economist.’

Tom had a clear picture in his head of that scene, but it still didn’t answer the question.

‘So how did
you
think you were going to be able to carry on paying the mortgage?’

‘Sir Hugo had told me that he was very impressed with me. He wanted me to do some personal, highly confidential, work for him. He said he would pay me a little extra each month. In cash.’

‘What did he mean by ‘a little extra’?’

‘A few thousand.’

This was like pulling teeth. Surely by now she had realised that he was going to find out - however long it took?

‘How many is ‘a few’, Jessica?’

Jessica had the grace to look slightly sheepish. She shuffled a little in her chair. Then raised her chin defiantly.

‘He asked if eight would be enough.’

‘
Eight thousand pounds! A month
?’

‘Yes.’

Jessica’s chin was still raised, but her cheeks were flushed with what Tom could only assume was embarrassment. Quite right too, he thought.

‘What did you have to do for the money, Jessica? You are going to have to tell us. Were you his mistress?’

‘I’ve already told you that I wasn’t. If he’d asked me, especially in the early days, I would have gladly said yes. And I can assure you that I most certainly would
not
have expected to be paid for it. But unfortunately he never did.’

‘So what did you do, Jessica?’

‘I’d rather not say. I’m sorry, but it was confidential.’ Jessica’s obdurate expression was exasperating Tom.

‘Jessica, Sir Hugo is dead. Whatever you did for him that was worth so much money - it may have a bearing on his death.’

‘It doesn’t.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘It just doesn’t’

It was at times like these that Tom could understand why some policemen lost it. And then it hit him. There was one other good reason why a man might pay a woman a lot of money on a regular basis.

‘Okay, you won’t tell us what you did. Is that because of the terms of the will?’

‘What do you mean?’ Jessica asked with a frown.

‘You know he left you some money?’

‘Brian mentioned it, yes. I haven’t got the details yet, but Brian says I should be more than happy.’

Jessica was in danger of being smug again.

‘Did Brian also tell you that there are some conditions attached?’

Tom was pleased to see that this news wiped the smile off her face.

‘No! What conditions?’

‘The money - a very generous sum - is to be given to you over a period of time, and during that period you cannot say anything about Sir Hugo that would bring his name into disrepute.’

Ajay looked at Tom sharply. He obviously wondered why Tom had told Jessica this as it might prevent her giving them information. But Tom had a plan, and thought he was beginning to understand Jessica quite well. He could feel a tingle of excitement.

‘Well, those conditions will be no problem at all. Nothing Sir Hugo did could bring his name into disrepute.’

Tom was leaning forward in his chair. This was it. He just knew it.

‘What did you know, Jessica?’ he asked in a soft voice. ‘What did you know about Sir Hugo that you have promised not to reveal?’

‘There was
nothing
- how many times do I have to tell you.’

Jessica’s face was set in stubborn lines, and Tom felt his excitement fading.

‘So why won’t you tell me what the money was for, why does it have to remain a secret if it’s not because of the terms of the will?’

‘Because it’s none of your business, and not in any way relevant to your enquiries. He didn’t want anybody to know. He was quite modest about his generosity, you know.’

Tom managed to keep his face impassive.

‘When did it start then, and was there was some specific trigger for this… generosity.’

‘I’ll tell you when it started. I
won’t
, however, tell you what I did. I’m not a terrorist, so I believe I have the right to silence.’

Tom sighed. God preserve us from knowledgeable suspects, he thought.

‘Let’s start there then, shall we? Tell me when it started, and what prompted it.’

Jessica was clasping a green suede handbag on her knee, and she was turning the handle over and over between her fingers. Two deep frown lines had appeared between her eyebrows, and Tom knew that he had rattled her - but whether he’d rattled her enough, he wasn’t sure.

‘Well there were a few things that happened all around the same sort of time a couple of years ago. It started when two of the rescue girls turned up at the office, looking for one of their friends who had apparently gone AWOL. I turned them away, of course. I knew Sir Hugo was very strict about the girls not keeping in touch with each other, and I was very cross with them.’

‘Didn’t you think that was rather a strange rule?’

‘Not at all. He only had their interests at heart, and if he thought it was for the best then I supported that decision. Anyway, it was only a day or two later that the doorbell rang. I was the only one in the office apart from Sir Hugo. Rosie had gone out - ostensibly because we had run out of pens, or something, although it took her an inordinately long time to buy them if I remember correctly. I opened the door, and this young girl pushed past me. She said she wanted to see “Hugo” - not “Sir Hugo”. I thought that very odd. Then I recognised her. I’d been looking at her file that very day. She looked very smartly dressed, though, and that had me fooled for a few moments. I tried to stop her but she pushed past me and straight into Sir Hugo’s office. She slammed the door. Of course, I went after her, but Sir Hugo told me everything was okay and I could go.’

Jessica paused and took a sip of water. Nobody spoke. Tom could see that she was reliving the moment, and although he was dying to ask her the question at the forefront of his mind, he had to let her finish talking. She wasn’t looking at him; she was clutching the glass and gazing into the distance as the scenes of that day came back to her.