Aftermath (25 page)

A small plump man with a soft grey moustache answered the door. He was wearing a green cardigan, unbuttoned, and dark brown trousers which hugged the underside of his rounded gut. A belt
wouldn’t be much good with a shape like that, Jenny thought, noticing the braces that held the trousers up.

‘Clive Liversedge?’

‘Come in, love,’ he said. ‘You must be Dr Fuller.’

‘That’s me.’ Jenny followed him into the cramped hall, from which a glass-panelled door led to a tidy living room with a red velour three-piece suite, an electric fire with
fake coals, and striped wallpaper. Somehow, it wasn’t the kind of place Jenny had imagined Lucy Payne growing up in; she couldn’t get any sense of Lucy living in this environment at
all.

She could see what Banks meant about the invalid mother. Pale skin and raccoon eyes, Hilary Liversedge reclined on the sofa, a wool blanket covering her lower half. Her arms were thin and the
skin looked puckered and loose. She didn’t move when Jenny entered, but her eyes looked lively and attentive enough, despite the yellowish cast of the sclera. Jenny didn’t know what was
wrong with her, but she put it down to one of those vague chronic illnesses that certain types of people luxuriate in towards the ends of their lives.

‘How is she?’ Clive Liversedge asked, as if Lucy had perhaps suffered a minor fall or car accident. ‘They said it wasn’t serious. Is she doing all right?’

‘I saw her this morning,’ Jenny said, ‘and she’s bearing up well.’

‘Poor lass,’ said Hilary. ‘To think of what she’s been through. Tell her she’s welcome to come here and stay with us when she gets out of hospital.’

‘I just came to get some sense of what Lucy’s like,’ Jenny began. ‘What sort of a girl she was.’

The Liversedges looked at one another. ‘Just ordinary,’ said Clive.

‘Normal,’ said Hilary.

Right, thought Jenny. Normal girls go marrying serial killers every day. Even if Lucy had nothing at all to do with the killings, there
had
to be something odd about her, something
out
of
the ordinary. Jenny had even sensed that during their brief chat in the hospital that morning. She could couch it in as much psychological gobbledygook as she wanted – and Jenny had
come across plenty of that in her career – but what it came down to was the feeling that Lucy Payne was definitely a sausage or two short of the full English breakfast.

‘What was she like at school?’ Jenny pressed on.

‘Very bright,’ answered Clive.

‘She got three A-levels. Good marks, too. As and Bs,’ added Hilary.

‘She could have gone to university,’ Clive added.

‘Why didn’t she?’

‘She didn’t want to,’ said Clive. ‘She wanted to get out in the world and make a living for herself.’

‘Isn’t she ambitious?’

‘She’s not greedy, if that’s what you mean,’ Hilary answered. ‘Of course she wants to get on in the world like everyone else, but she doesn’t think she needs
a university degree to do it. They’re overrated, anyway, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Jenny, who had a BA and a PhD. ‘Was she studious when she was at school?’

‘I wouldn’t really say so,’ said Hilary. ‘She did what she had to do in order to pass, but she wasn’t a swot.’

‘Was she popular at school?’

‘She seemed to get on all right with the other children. We got no complaints from her, at any rate.’

‘No bullying, nothing like that?’

‘Well, there was one girl, once, but that came to nothing,’ said Clive.

‘Someone bullying Lucy?’

‘No. Someone complaining she was being bullied
by
Lucy, accused her of demanding money with threats.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing. It was just her word against Lucy’s.’

‘And you believed Lucy?’

‘Yes.’

‘So no action was taken?’

‘No. They couldn’t prove anything against her.’

‘And nothing else like that occurred?’

‘No.’

‘Did she take part in any after-school activities?’

‘She wasn’t much of a one for sports, but she was in a couple of school plays. Very good, too, wasn’t she, love?’

Hilary Liversedge nodded.

‘Was she wild at all?’

‘She could be high spirited, and if she got it in her mind to do something, there was no stopping her, but I wouldn’t say she was especially
wild
.’

‘What about at home? How did you all get along?’

They looked at each other again. It was an ordinary enough gesture, but it unnerved Jenny a bit. ‘Fine. Quiet as a mouse. Never any trouble,’ said Clive.

‘When did she leave home?’

‘When she was eighteen. She got that job at the bank in Leeds. We didn’t stand in her way.’

‘Not that we could have,’ added Hilary.

‘Have you seen much of her lately?’

Hilary’s expression darkened a little. ‘She said she’s not been able to get over here as much as she’d have liked.’

‘When was the last time you saw her?’

‘Christmas,’ answered Clive.

‘Last Christmas?’

‘The year before.’

It was as Pat Mitchell had said; Lucy had become distanced from her parents. ‘So that’s seventeen months?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Did she telephone or write?’

‘She writes us nice letters,’ said Hilary.

‘What does she tell you about her life?’

‘About her job and the house. Just normal, ordinary sorts of things.’

‘Did she tell you how Terry was doing at the school?’

This exchanged look
definitely
spoke volumes. ‘No,’ said Clive. ‘And we didn’t ask.’

‘We didn’t approve of her taking up with the first boy she met,’ said Hilary.

‘Did she have other boyfriends before Terry?’

‘Nobody serious.’

‘But you thought she could do better?’

‘We’re not saying there’s anything
wrong
with Terry. He seems nice enough, and he’s got a decent job, good prospects.’

‘But?’

‘But he seemed to sort of take over, didn’t he, Clive?’

‘Yes. It was very odd.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jenny asked.

‘It was as if he didn’t
want
her to see us.’

‘Did he or she ever say that?’

Hilary shook her head. The loose skin flapped. ‘Not in so many words. It was just an impression I got.
We
got.’

Jenny made a note. To her, this sounded like one of the stages of a sexually sadistic relationship that she had learned about at Quantico. The sadist, in this case Terry Payne, starts to isolate
his partner from her family. Pat Mitchell had also suggested the same sort of progressive separation from her friends.

‘They just kept to themselves,’ said Clive.

‘What did you think of Terry?’

‘There was something strange about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.’

‘What sort of person is Lucy?’ Jenny went on. ‘Is she generally trusting? Naïve? Dependent?’

‘I wouldn’t really describe her in any of those terms, would you, Hilary?’

‘No,’ said Hilary. ‘She’s very independent, for a start. Headstrong, too. Always makes her own decisions and acts on them. Like about not going to university and getting
a job instead. Once she’d made her mind up, she was off. It was the same with marrying Terry. Love at first sight, she said.’

‘You weren’t at the wedding, though?’

‘Hilary can’t travel any more,’ said Clive, going over and patting his wife’s inert form. ‘Can you, love?’

‘We sent a telegram and a present,’ Hilary said. ‘A nice set of Royal Doulton.’

‘Do you think Lucy lacks confidence, self-esteem?’

‘It depends on what you’re talking about. She’s confident enough at work, but not so much around people. She often becomes very quiet around strangers, very wary and reserved.
She doesn’t like crowds, but she used to like going out with a small group of friends. You know, the girls from work. That sort of thing.’

‘Would you say she’s a loner by nature?’

‘To some extent, yes. She’s a very private person, never told us much about what was going on or what was going through her mind.’

Jenny was wondering whether she should ask if Lucy tortured animals, wet her bed and set fire to the local school, but she couldn’t find an easy way to get around to doing it. ‘Was
she like that even as a child?’ she asked. ‘Or did her need for solitude develop later in life?’

‘We wouldn’t know the answer to that,’ said Clive, looking over at his wife. ‘We didn’t know her then.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, Lucy wasn’t our daughter, not our
natural
daughter. Hilary can’t have children, you see. She’s got a heart condition. Always has had. Doctor said childbirth
could kill her.’ Hilary patted her heart and gave Jenny a rueful look.

‘You adopted Lucy?’

‘No. No. We fostered her. Lucy was our foster child. The third and last, as it turned out. She was with us by far the longest and we came to think of her as our own.’

‘I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell the police this?’

‘They didn’t ask,’ said Clive, as if that made it all perfectly reasonable.

Jenny was stunned. Here was an essential piece of information in the puzzle that was Lucy Payne, and nobody else on the team knew it. ‘How old was she when she came to you?’ Jenny
asked.

‘Twelve,’ said Clive. ‘It was in March 1990. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. Didn’t you know? Lucy was one of the “Alderthorpe Seven”.’

•

Annie lounged back in her hard wooden chair as if it had been moulded to fit her shape, and stretched out her legs. Banks had always envied the way she managed to seem so
centred and comfortable in almost any environment, and she was doing it now. She took a sip of her Theakston’s bitter and almost purred. Then she smiled at Banks.

‘I’ve been cursing you all day, you know,’ she said. ‘Taking your name in vain.’

‘I thought my ears were burning.’

‘By rights they should have both burned off by now.’

‘Point taken. What did Superintendent Chambers have to say?’

Annie gave a dismissive wave. ‘What you’d expect. That it’s
my
career on the line if there’s any fallout. Oh, and he warned me about you.’

‘About me?’

‘Yes. Said he thought you might try to pump me for information, to play my cards close to my chest. Which he examined rather too closely for my comfort, by the way.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. He said you’re a ladies’ man. Is that true?’

Banks laughed. ‘He did? He really said that?’

Annie nodded.

The Queen’s Arms was busy with the after-work crowd and tourists seeking shelter, and Banks and Annie had been lucky to get seats at the small, dimpled copper-topped table in the corner by
the window. Banks could see the ghostly images of people with umbrellas drifting back and forth on Market Street beyond the red and yellow panes of glass. Rain spotted the windows, and he could
hear it tapping in the pauses between words. Savage Garden were on the jukebox claiming that they loved someone before they met her. The air was full of smoke and animated chatter.

‘What do you think of Janet Taylor?’ Banks asked. ‘I’m not trying to pry into your case. I’m just interested in your first impression.’

‘So
you
say. Anyway, I quite like her, and I feel sorry for her. She’s a probationary PC with limited experience put in an impossible position. She did what came
naturally.’

‘But?’

‘I’ll not let my feelings blinker my judgement. I haven’t been able to put it all together yet, but it looks to me as if Janet Taylor lied on her statement.’

‘Deliberately lied or just didn’t remember?’

‘I suppose we could give her the benefit of the doubt on that. Look, I’ve never been in a situation like she was. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for her.
The fact remains that, according to Dr Mogabe, she must have hit Payne with her baton at least seven or eight times
after
he was beyond any sort of retaliatory action.’

‘He was stronger than her. Maybe that’s what was required to subdue him. The law allows us
some
latitude on reasonable force in making an arrest.’

Annie shook her head. She stretched out her legs sideways from the chair and crossed them. Banks noticed the thin gold chain around her ankle, one of the many things he found sexy about Annie.
‘She lost it, Alan. It goes way beyond self-defence and reasonable force. There’s another thing, too.’

‘What?’

‘I spoke to the paramedics and ambulance attendants who were first at the scene. They hadn’t a clue what had happened, of course, but it didn’t take them long to work out it
was something really nasty and bizarre.’

‘And?’

‘One of them said when he went over to PC Taylor, who was cradling PC Morrisey’s body, she looked over at Payne and said, “Is he dead? Did I kill the bastard?”’

‘That could mean anything.’

‘My point exactly. In the hands of a good barrister it could mean she had intended to kill him all along and was asking if she had succeeded in her aim. It could signify intent.’

‘It could also just be an innocent question.’

‘You know as well as I do there’s nothing
innocent
about this business at all. Especially with the Hadleigh case on the news every day. And don’t forget that Payne was
unarmed and down on the floor when she aimed the final few blows.’

‘How do we know that?’

‘PC Taylor had already broken his wrist, according to her statement, and kicked the machete into the corner where it was found later. Also, the angles of the blows and the force behind
them indicate she had the advantage of height, which we know she didn’t have naturally. Payne’s six foot one and PC Taylor’s only five foot six.’

Banks took a long drag on his cigarette as he digested what Annie had to say, thinking it wouldn’t be a hell of a lot of fun to tell AC Hartnell about this. ‘Not an immediate threat
to her, then?’ he said.

‘Not from where I’m looking.’ Annie shifted a little in her chair. ‘It’s possible,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not saying that wouldn’t freak out
even the best-trained copper. But I’ve got to say that it looks to me as if she lost it. I’d still like to have a look at the scene.’