Faith (63 page)

He had met Sandra many times before, and he liked and respected her. She was a very plain woman in her forties, with straight mousey hair, glasses and bad skin, but she had a keen mind, a good sense of humour, and she loved the cut and thrust of her job. No lawyer in Scotland was better than she at defending women who had killed or attacked an abuser. But Donaldson guessed even she would find it hard to believe in a spoilt middle-class woman like Belle Howell.

‘I hope so.’ She frowned up at the sky. ‘This sort of weather always seems to bring on a rash of domestic violence.’

‘So we can expect Howell to be extra-aggressive today then?’ he said with a chuckle.

Sandra smiled. ‘She’s a difficult one, that’s for sure.’

‘Do you believe she’s innocent?’

Sandra smile faded. ‘You know better than to ask such a thing, Ian!’

‘I will consider my knuckles rapped,’ he said.

Donaldson had to resist the desire to smirk when Belle was brought into the interview room. She looked rougher than a down-and-out on the streets of Glasgow. She had a bruise under one eye, her blonde hair was scraped back off her face, but that didn’t disguise a couple of bald patches, and her tee-shirt and tracksuit trousers were far too big for her, and an unflattering khaki colour.

Sandra showed some concern about how she got the bruise.

‘How do you think, you stupid cow?’ Belle responded. ‘I shouldn’t be in here with these animals. They stole my cigarettes and I tried to get them back.’

Sandra calmly got a packet of cigarettes out of her briefcase and handed them to Belle. ‘I am not your enemy,’ she said gently. ‘I’m sorry to hear you’ve been hurt, but if you want to make life easier for yourself while you are in here, I suggest you don’t go around calling people stupid cows.’

Belle just snatched up the cigarettes, tore the packet open and lit one up. She didn’t thank Sandra for them or apologize for her rudeness.

‘Right then, we’d better get on,’ Donaldson said, putting a new tape in the machine and turning it on. He spoke into it, giving the date, time and the names of the people present.

He began by asking Belle much the same questions he’d asked her umpteen times before: what time Stuart Macgregor came to Kirkmay House on the day in question, how long they spent in the garden, what they talked about, the details of how Stuart broke the news to her about her sister’s will, and her reaction to it.

‘It was a shock and I was very upset,’ she said. ‘But then Charles came home drunk and he went mad and stabbed Stuart.’

Donaldson had already heard a great many minor variations on her story of the frightened little wife who felt compelled to assist her husband because she didn’t know what else to do. But this was the first time she’d said Charles was drunk, perhaps because it had recently occurred to her that it was a good cover for any points of his version of events which didn’t match hers.

‘It was just after eleven at night when we arrested you and your husband on your arrival back in Crail after taking Macgregor’s car to Edinburgh,’ Donaldson said. ‘We did blood tests on you both. You still had a high level of alcohol in yours, Belle, but Charles didn’t. He had drunk no more than one pint of beer in the previous eight hours.’

Belle became irate then, shouting that Donaldson didn’t know what he was talking about. Sandra tried to calm her down, but she shouted at her too.

‘Belle, we have a statement from Macgregor telling us exactly what happened that evening,’ Donaldson said. ‘We know it was you who stabbed him, we have forensic science to back it up, and your husband’s statement too. It would be far better for you to admit what you did.’

‘I have told you the truth, you arsehole,’ she screamed at him. ‘Charles is a lying bastard!’

Her face was flushed with rage, yet Donaldson felt that it wouldn’t take much more confrontation before she cracked.

‘Is he lying too when he said that you stabbed your sister on 12 May 1993?’

‘He said that?’ Her voice was suddenly an octave lower and she looked stunned.

‘He did.’ Donaldson nodded. ‘He said you took the car belonging to your guests which had been left in your drive, and drove out there because you were furious that she was going to give Brodie Farm to Laura.’

‘I didn’t, I didn’t go out of the house that day,’ she insisted, but the colour draining from her face proved she was afraid now. ‘Why would he say that?’

‘Because it is the truth and he’s tired of covering up for you?’ Donaldson suggested. ‘He told us how you had to rush to clean the car belonging to the Langdons. It must have got very muddy on that track? And you had blood on your clothes too, didn’t you? Charles got rid of those clothes for you. But we know where they are.’

Donaldson was only guessing that Charles took her clothes and disposed of them. But he reckoned that Charles had led the kind of life where he’d often had to get rid of incriminating evidence, and would know the safest way of doing it.

Sandra advised her client that she didn’t have to say anything if she didn’t wish to, but Belle didn’t appear to take that in for she suddenly erupted with rage.

‘That bastard, after all I’ve been through for him,’ she screamed. ‘He lost all our money, he forced me to go cap in hand to Jackie and move to that Godforsaken place that I hated. Me, running a guest house! Why should I be expected to clean up after people, cook them breakfast, listen to their endless complaints? Have you got any idea how demeaning that is?’

Belle glared at the two policemen. ‘And what did his nibs do? He was off at the golf club all the time! I even covered up for him when he killed a kid in his car and wasn’t man enough to stay and face the music. But now he’s told on me!’

Sandra’s jaw dropped, Donaldson and Price looked at each other in shocked surprise.

Donaldson recovered first. He certainly hadn’t expected that either one of the Howells would ever admit to that crime. ‘That must have been terrible for you, Belle,’ he said in feigned sympathy. ‘Jackie was badly hurt too, wasn’t she? And Barney was as good as your nephew.’

‘We all loved him, he was the sweetest little boy,’ Belle sobbed. ‘If he hadn’t been killed I could have got Jackie to give us money to go and live in Spain or somewhere, instead she punished us by making us stay in Scotland.’

‘So are you saying she always knew it was Charles driving the other car?’ Price butted in.

‘Well, of course she did,’ Belle snapped at him. ‘Who wouldn’t know Charles in his flash car, driving like a maniac? She was going to tell the police, but I talked her out of it. It wouldn’t bring Barney back and I’d be all alone while Charles was in prison.’

‘But we have it on record that he was in London at the time,’ Donaldson said. ‘He flew back the following day, the airline confirmed that.’

Belle gave him a withering look as if astounded he didn’t realize how resourceful her husband could be when he was in trouble. ‘He had been in London for almost a week before, but he was on his way home when he had the accident. He turned around and drove straight back to London, the cowardly bastard. He even had the blasted cheek to fly back and act like he was distraught at Barney’s death, when all the time his car was having the dents repaired.’

Donaldson looked at Sandra, expecting her to bring the interview to a halt for the day. But she shrugged, the cold expression on her face telling him she thought it advisable for all concerned that he went on and got a complete confession.

‘So Barney’s death soured your relationship with your sister?’ Donaldson asked.

‘She acted like we were dirt beneath her feet,’ Belle said and began to cry. ‘She had all the sympathy for that whore Laura, but not for us. Laura got to spend the following summer in Italy, and when she came back Jackie helped her get that crummy shop, but what did I get? Nothing, that’s what! Just criticism because I didn’t have many guests, or that I spoke to them too sharply. Jackie was lording it up out at her place, coining it in hand over fist with all her properties, everyone adoring her, and I’m stuck with Charles off playing golf, chatting up women and making an arse of himself. I had nothing and no one.’

Donaldson could hardly believe that anyone could be so unappreciative of all her sister had done for her, so lacking in compassion and so utterly self-centred. He wondered if she was actually mad, for surely no one sane could see others the way she did.

‘How about you tell us what brought things to a head with your sister?’ Sandra suggested.

Belle folded her arms and her expression was belligerent, Donaldson sighed inwardly, expecting that she would clam up now. But to his surprise she didn’t.

‘I went out to the farm two or three weeks before Christmas,’ she began.

‘Was that Christmas of ’92?’ Price asked, so it would be on record.

‘Yes,’ Belle agreed. ‘I was so tired of it all, of Charles out all the time, of the guests, having no friends, everything.’

She leaned back in her chair and lit another cigarette, half closed her eyes and as she began to speak, they all realized she was reliving those events.

It was around four in the afternoon and already dark when Belle drove up the drive to Brodie Farm. But as she turned into the yard it was like suddenly entering Santa’s grotto. There were Christmas lights around all the windows of the guest cottages, a holly wreath on each of the doors, and more lights on the evergreen shrubs in planters either side of the farmhouse door.

Belle gritted her teeth, irritated to be once again reminded that her older sister had the energy and enthusiasm she lacked to make things special for her guests. Yet at the same time it seemed like a good omen, for Jackie had always loved Christmas, and it was the time when she was usually at her most amenable.

It was freezing cold, and Belle turned up the collar of her mink coat as she walked to Jackie’s door. She glanced through the kitchen window before knocking, and saw her sister sitting at the table wrapping up presents, surrounded by reels of coloured ribbon and rolls of paper. The kitchen looked festive with coloured lights strung along the dresser shelves, and she’d even hung some Chinese lanterns shaped like comic turkeys from the old beams.

Belle tapped on the window and Jackie waved and beckoned for her to come in.

Jackie wasn’t drunk, but she’d clearly had a couple of drinks, and she had a Christmas tape of Johnny Mathis playing. She giggled and said she hoped Belle wouldn’t tell anyone what she listened to, or she’d lose all credibility.

She teased Belle too for wearing a mink coat. She said she should have sold it years ago before it became politically incorrect to own one. Then she poured her sister a glass of red wine, and asked what had brought her round.

‘I can’t go on like this,’ Belle burst out. ‘I hate Scotland. I hate you despising us because Charles killed Barney, and I want out.’

Jackie stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. She was wearing a Fair Isle sweater and jeans tucked into long green boots. Belle thought Fair Isle sweaters were an abomination, but even she had to admit that Jackie looked lovely in it with her tousled curls showering down on to her shoulders. ‘Well, go then,’ she said eventually. Just tell me when and I’ll get someone in to run Kirkmay until I can decide what to do with it.’

‘You don’t mind then?’ Belle asked.

‘Why should I?’ Jackie shrugged. ‘Let’s face it, you aren’t making a success of the place, there is no return on my investment either. Go with my blessing. I’ll be glad not to have to see Charles around. Where are you planning to go? Back to London?’

‘We aren’t sure yet,’ Belle said, feeling just a little flustered because it had been so easy. ‘It depends.’

‘On what? Whether you can drag Charles away from the golf club?’ Jackie laughed.

‘No. On how much you can give us,’ Belle replied.

Jackie stood up and leaned against the Aga rail. She folded her arms, something she always did when she anticipated trouble. ‘Run that past me again! I don’t think I heard it quite right. You want me to pay you to leave here?’

‘Well, we haven’t got any money,’ Belle shrugged. ‘You know that.’

‘Yes I do, because you spend every penny you get,’ Jackie said. ‘Kirkmay could make you an excellent living if you lived within your means, but I see that once again you’ve been to the hairdresser’s, are wearing new boots, and I suspect that’s a new outfit under the old coat. I reckon that little lot alone came to something like three hundred pounds.’

‘I have to look nice. I’ve got an image to uphold.’

Jackie spluttered with derisive laughter. ‘An image to uphold! Your image around here is that you are a toffee-nosed Londoner who doesn’t give a toss whether anyone stays at her guest house. No one would take any notice if you were suddenly to appear in a floral pinny and a headscarf over your hair rollers. In fact I think they’d prefer that!’

They argued for some time, but Jackie remained adamant she wasn’t helping out any more. She wasn’t nasty, but very firm. She said if they wanted to leave that was fine, but they’d have to finance it themselves.

The phone rang and Jackie went upstairs to answer it, giving Belle the idea it was a man friend calling. As Jackie went up the stairs she called back down asking Belle to make a pot of tea.

As Belle got the teapot off the dresser, she saw the document lying there, half covered by a biscuit tin. She could see the name Laura Brannigan, and curiosity made her pull it out to see what it was about.

As she read it she felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach, for it was a deed of gift. Jackie was giving the farm away to Laura! As she stood there in the Christmassy kitchen, she couldn’t believe her sister could do this to her.

A mere friend was to get a property worth at least £150,000, but Jackie was refusing to give her a paltry few thousand when she desperately needed it.

She went to the bottom of the stairs and listened to what Jackie was saying. ‘I must go,’ she heard. ‘Belle’s downstairs on the scrounge again. But don’t despair, my growling one. We’ll soon be away from all the bloodsuckers, together, for ever.’

Belle had to leave then because she knew that if she stayed she might hit Jackie.