Blazing Obsession (22 page)

“That suggests my client hired Johnson. We all know he did it. You're trying to join up dots you don't have.”

“We believe we've linked them sufficiently well to make a case.”

I shouted, “You've totally lost it! If, as you stupidly suggest, I murdered my family, why the hell would I murder Johnson and Greenland? It doesn't make sense.”

Flood, clasping his hands together and placing them on the table, said, “I've been thinking about that. Hartley's the one who caused you the most pain, hasn't he? First, he had an affair with your wife, made her pregnant and then embezzled a considerable sum of money from you. It would be a neat solution for you to murder Johnson and Greenland, both involved in the arson attack, and frame Hartley for their murders. That would cover your tracks, wouldn't it?”

Before I could yell at Flood again, Simon sarcastically said, “I think you've been reading too many crime novels. What you're suggesting is pure hypothesis. And you're desperately short on evidence.”

Flood sneered, “Not as short as you may think.” He referred to his notes yet again, whilst swivelling annoyingly in his chair. His smugness went up a notch.

“Something else has turned up. Following a search at your house, we found a hand-written note addressed to you from your wife in a desk drawer. Would you like me to read it?”

He didn't wait for a reply.

Simon asked, “So?”

“I believe this note refers to Lynne Hamilton contacting the paternity agency and discovering that Hartley was Emily's father. It suggests that either your client had found out about it or she'd told him.” He waved the note in the air. “This confirms they'd had a row about it. There's the motivation.”

He couldn't have been further from the truth.

We'd only ever had one major disagreement in our short married life. It was over something so trivial, we laughed about it afterwards. Flood's assumption placed the note entirely out of context.

After Emily's birth, Lynne's obsessive preoccupation with the baby's well-being countered the joy of having her. She'd check on her several times a night, whether Emily was crying or not. She fussed over her constantly to the exclusion of everyone else. We'd already had to deal with Georgie. Now I knew how he suffered: excluded and envious.

Matters came to head one evening when, for the umpteenth time, she broke off an amorous exchange to check on Emily's cot.

We had a blazing row and both of us said things we'd rather not have said. However, it cleared the air and I apologised. I assumed this was normal behaviour for a woman with a young baby; it's something I'd have to get used to. She apologised too; said all she wanted was for us to be one happy family.

I told Flood the true reason for the note and that he'd jumped to an erroneous conclusion.

“I don't believe you.”

Simon asked, “Is there a date on the note?”

Flood glanced at it, turned it over and said, “No.”

“So it could have been written anytime. If it had been dated close to the date of the arson attack, it would
possibly
have had more relevance to your assumption. As it is, I think my client's version is likely to be more accurate.”

“We'll let the CPS decide on that.”

Flood closed his notebook. DS Lyle said, “Interview terminated at 12.45pm,” and turned off the cassette recorder. They both stood and Flood said, “That's all for now. We'll spend the afternoon preparing our case.”

Simon and I stayed in the interview room to discuss my situation.

I'd never felt less sure about getting away with our plan. I faced a skilful detective who appeared hell-bent on building a case against me, and a smooth-talking con man
par excellence
in Hartley.

My confidence in Roger Pendleton and Simon Brotherton plummeted.

Still reeling from what I'd just heard, I asked Simon what he thought about the case against me now.

“Before I answer that, tell me truthfully, when did you first know about Emily being Hartley's daughter?”

“I can't believe you're asking me that. I didn't know… not until now, I swear.”

“You had no idea Lynne had sent off for a paternity test?”

“No, of course I didn't.”

“But she'd have had to get you to sign a consent form, send off a cheek swab, a used tissue or something. You're saying she never told you, which means she must have sent off a sample without you knowing and forged your signature.”

“I can't believe she'd have done that… but she must have.”

“If the police can prove you did know, that's bad news. Having said that, they'll also have to prove you paid Johnson. They've said nothing about that. And don't forget, Hartley's going through the same interrogation. We've got to hope Flood thinks Hartley's a stronger candidate.”

I slumped forward in my chair.

“God, I hope so.”

Simon paused, then continued. “At least it's encouraging that there appears to be a lack of hard evidence against you, especially for the Johnson and Greenland murders. They'd have challenged you by now if, say, they had evidence of you dumping Johnson's body.”

I looked nervously at the cassette recorder. Simon noticed and said, “Don't worry about that. You have the right to speak with your solicitor in private. Even if they were secretly taping this conversation they wouldn't be able to use it.”

“I hope not.”

“Anyway, with the Greenland case, I shouldn't worry too much about the eyewitness evidence. It's difficult for anyone to be one hundred percent sure and beyond reasonable doubt. That's why judges are now legally bound to warn juries about not giving too much credence to it. Flood's chucking everything he can at you, hoping some of it'll stick.”

I asked Simon about Flood's chloroform presumption. Although he'd identified a potential link to Alisha and her job, I hoped there wasn't a spurious trail leading from her to the back of Hartley's boiler room, where the bottle of chloroform had ended up.

“Flood's got a valid point. It's not going to help,” Simon warned. Thanks a lot, I thought.

*

He went back to his office, telling me he'd be on standby for the rest of the day if I needed him. A PC escorted me back to my cell.

My head still ached, not helped by thinking how on earth did I become a suspected serial killer.

I found it impossible to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't Emily's father. For God's sake, my name was on her birth certificate.

Christ, I'd even cut her umbilical cord. Fatherhood had made me. Hartley had taken that away.

I agonised over why Lynne had carried out the paternity test without my knowledge. I could only guess that she had tortured herself over whether I might discover the truth. Or that Emily would when she grew older.

If the results proved I was the father, no problem. She might even have told me. But she lived with her secret. I wanted to ask Alisha whether Lynne had ever told her about the paternity test result.

I knew I wouldn't cope well spending twenty years plus in a prison cell. Just the thought of it brought me out in a sweat and my claustrophobia kicked in hard.

However, I still had a life to live. I was nearly forty-four years old. I had no financial worries and possibly a future with Alisha.

I could contest these issues all day; it wouldn't make any difference… my immediate fate lay with the CPS.

*

At lunchtime the next day, a uniformed PC led me back to the interview room. Simon arrived shortly afterwards. He'd spent the previous afternoon updating RP and Alisha.

Flood, whose expression remained deadpan, entered the room with DS Lyle in his wake.

“As you know, we passed our files over to the CPS for pre-charge advice. They've decided we should not charge you… at the moment. This advice may change if further evidence comes to light. You are free to go.”

Simon responded first. “Are you charging Hartley?”

“I can't tell you that.”

“Why not?” I shouted. “I think I have the
right
to know.”

“I suspect you'll hear in due course.”

I wanted to pursue the point, but Simon tugged at my arm again in an effort to shut me up and get out of the police station as soon as possible.

Once outside and mightily relieved, I hugged Simon again. He offered to run me back home to Blackheath.

I called Alisha on my mobile from his car. Even with Hartley in custody, she said she preferred to remain at my house. She sounded ecstatic and couldn't wait for me to arrive.

Still not believing Flood hadn't charged me, I asked Simon, as he drove, why he thought not.

“It's always difficult to answer that when two suspects are taken in for questioning. Obviously, the police believe they have more evidence against Hartley than against you. It's as simple as that. And we won't know what that evidence is unless Hartley's charged and he goes on trial.”

“That'll take months.”

“It'll soon pass. I'm guessing the police found Hartley's clothes and trainers and the results from the forensic team sealed his fate for the Johnson murder. They must have believed Alisha's alibis for your whereabouts too. That's so important. She deserves a medal.”

“She certainly does.”

As he pulled up at some traffic lights, Simon turned to me and said, “And regarding Greenland, I don't think Flood really thought you were involved. All he has is the blurry CCTV stuff and the eyewitness.”

“Yes, but I'll be happier knowing Hartley's been charged.”

“Well, as far as the arson attack, it's clear to me Flood's not dug up enough stuff to discover precisely
when
you knew about Lynne's affair. As I said to you before, James, it was always going to be a close decision.”

“I'd love to have been a fly on the wall at Flood's interviews with Hartley.”

“Me too. I'm convinced Flood'll charge him with the arson attack. Then we'll have to wait to fill in the blanks.”

As we pulled into the driveway, Alisha's face appeared at the window. Even before I got to the front door, she'd opened it. She threw herself at me, almost knocking me over.

“Oh, James! It's so good to see you!”

I revelled under a long, hot shower and changed my clothes. Alisha had made my favourite curry, chicken and sweetcorn, and we spent the evening eating and drinking a bottle of chilled
Lanson
champagne. It felt good to be back in the comfort of my home.

She pumped me for every detail concerning Flood's inquisition. She pursed her lips together and frowned when I explained his theory about the chloroform.

“I can see his thinking,” she said. “I could have easily got some if RP had asked me. A close shave, eh?”

“Yeah. Remember my visit to Greenland? When he told me about Hartley believing Emily to be his? Did Lynne ever mention it?”

“Er… no. The first I heard about it is when you told RP and me after your chat with Greenland.”

She fidgeted with her glass before taking a sip. I didn't find her answer convincing.

“Are you sure, Alisha?”

“Yes. Of course I am.”

“So Lynne never knew Hartley felt this way?”

“No.”

“And she didn't try to find out Emily's true father?”

She fidgeted with her glass again.

“I don't know where you got that idea from.”

As she said it, she turned her head away from me. A dead giveaway.

“You knew, didn't you? Don't lie to me!” I raised my voice.

“James… I'm in a difficult situation.” She took another sip of wine.

“I promised Lynne I'd never tell anyone.”

“So you
did
know?” I wanted to pick her up and shake the truth out of her.

She put down the glass of champagne slowly and deliberately on the table, buying time before she answered.

“Yes… I did know.” She avoided my eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

“Christ, Alisha!”

She at last made eye contact and sighed.

“Look, this is not easy, OK? Lynne told me that, before Hartley disappeared, he'd claimed the baby was his. Apparently he had always been obsessed about becoming a father. She was adamant he wasn't, but later, she had doubts. Although horrified at the prospect, she realised it was a possibility.”

“Is that why she had the test?”

“Yes. I asked her whether she thought it a wise thing to do. But she said she
had
to know. If Emily were Hartley's she said she'd have to protect her from ever finding out. She prayed for the right result.”

“I bet she did!”

“She hated knowing the truth. It truly bugged her. Even when Hartley disappeared out of her life for two years when he went to prison. She thought he'd given up on her.”

“Why the hell didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't tell you because you were so happy being a father. I didn't think you'd ever find out. And if you did, I'm sure you wouldn't have
wanted
to know. I thought I did it for the best. I'm sorry.”

“So you lied to me and RP when you said you had no idea Hartley had claimed he was Emily's father?”

“Yes… I've already told you why. I'm sorry.”

“I can't believe you'd not tell me something like this.” I stood up from the table, walked to the window, stared out at the darkness of the garden, balling my fists, fighting to keep my temper under control.

Alisha remained seated. She spoke to my back.