Killer Women (10 page)

Then she worked it out. It was so obvious. It had been staring her in the face all along. The sea was the place to dispose of the weapon.

A few hours later, in an extraordinary scene that strangely resembled the scattering of a loved one’s ashes, Gail Jones stood on the cliffs at nearby Flamborough Head and watched as the burnt bits of wood descended slowly down to the sea below. They would never sink, but at least they would be dispersed forever.

Back in Filey, the rumour-mongers were working overtime. It seemed as if everyone except the police had already judged Gail and Tillotson guilty of murdering her husband.

‘It’s so bloody obvious. They staged the whole thing.’ It might have been obvious but there wasn’t a shred of real evidence … yet.

The policeman leading the murder hunt, Det. Supt. Strickland Carter, was feeling a mite frustrated to say the least. He knew all about the gossip in Filey and he was just as convinced as all the locals, but he had to be patient. The results of all those forensic
tests had not come back yet. They would just have to wait.

It was another few days until the police got what they wanted. Traces of blood found on Tillotson’s shoes matched Graham Jones’s blood, as did similar blood spots found on Gail’s clothes.

But most crucial of all, police were able to prove that the glasses thrown over Tillotson came from an upstairs bar not the main lounge bar on the ground floor.

Confronted with the evidence, the two illicit lovers were arrested but still insisted they were innocent.

At their trial at York Crown Court in June 1985, Gail Jones and Rod Tillotson were found guilty of murder and sentenced to life in prison.

The pretty brunette collapsed in tears as sentence was pronounced, and two women prison officers had to carry her back to her cell while a doctor and an ambulance were called.

After the case, Det. Supt. Carter said, ‘She was play-acting from beginning to end. She was arrested because she overreacted and I had a gut feeling she was putting on a show. She maintained it to the end, right down to the stage-managed collapse in the dock.’

She had an affinity for light. Her skin was luminous. Her dark hair glistened. But it was the brown of her eyes, like jewels on velvet under a storekeeper’s spotlight, that were the source.

He looked into them, felt their warmth, oblivious of the darkness to come. For somewhere, within her stunning beauty, there lay a twisted mind. A mind warped by time. A mind that wanted him all to
herself. A determination to get what she wanted – no matter what the cost. How dearly the innocent would have to pay.

But for the moment, Lydia Galladan just wanted her lover Augusto Pineda. She wished to obey his every command. She wanted him to be her master.

Augusto could barely endure her presence without feeling an overwhelming lust for her. Every time he looked at her, he thought of the passion, the unashamed love-making that knew no bounds. He knew she would do anything for him. It was an extraordinary sensation – knowing that your lover would obey any request, however bizarre. Lydia just could not refuse. She was obsessed and infatuated with Augusto. He had made her perform sex acts she never even realised existed. But she did not hesitate in her quest to satisfy. If he wanted it that way – then she would do it. Her own enjoyment was a bonus. If she felt a surge of excitement as well then that was good. But if it did not happen, then there was always another time, another place. It was far more important to Lydia to serve her master. To please him in every way possible.

On this day, in September 1982, the red flames of passion were burning brightly between the two lovers. It was mid-afternoon but it could have been midnight for all they cared. The curtains in the bedroom of the tiny apartment were closed. But the
lights were on. Augusto always insisted on the lights being on. He wanted Lydia to see as well as hear everything – in graphic detail.

They had arranged the rendezvous the previous day in a coded phone call.

‘OK, Mr Galladan, I will see you at three.’ Augusto wanted to make sure that no one knew where he was really going.

Now they were about to seal their lust for one another yet again. Within seconds of getting through the front door of that modest flat in Philbeach Gardens, Earls Court, South West London, they started.

Lydia took his coat slowly off his shoulders, stroked his neck, kissed him full on the lips. There was no point in making conversation. They both knew what was about to occur. But Augusto liked Lydia to do everything for him. It was sort of traditional in his family. The female would honour and obey the man’s every command. In any case he was sure she enjoyed it.

No sooner had she removed his coat than she knelt down in front of him and ran her hands from the top of his thighs down to his knees. She kept both hands spread so that her nails dug slightly into his skin through the flannel material of his trousers. She knew he could feel a tingle. A subtle sensation as her thumbs rode up and down the inside of his
thighs. So near and yet so far.

Augusto’s only response was to spread his hands through her thick, luscious hair. Then he held her scalp firmly, almost roughly for a moment. Excitement surged through his body. His breathing quickened. He looked down at the crown of her head, covered in those dark, silky locks.

Lydia was still on her knees. Probing him with thin fingers. She wanted it to last for ever between them. She would not rush the act – unless he wanted to. Augusto appreciated her gentle touch but he wanted more. She was there to serve his every whim.

He stopped stroking her hair, and grabbed at it more roughly, pushing her face towards his groin. She did not mind the slight pain of her hair being pulled. She knew he was giving her a sign. He wanted her to take him all the way. She could feel the stiffness through his trousers. Throbbing against her cheek. Then she kissed him through the material. Not enough, he wanted more; he wanted it now. He dug nails into scalp and pushed. It was time for her to unzip his trousers.

The first time Augusto climaxed, she felt nothing. No satisfaction for her. He made no attempt, no move to turn her on. But that did not matter to Lydia. She had already consumed the evidence of his own lust. Now, they were about to start again.

But first, she had to remove her clothes. She knew he would never even attempt that for her. In any case, he liked to watch her undress herself. He enjoyed the pleasure of watching her perform a private striptease just for him. And Lydia was happy to oblige. She was obsessed. She would do anything for him. Absolutely anything.

He could not resist the way she looked at him while she slowly and sensuously removed each garment. Her hair fell forward, across slightly slanted eyes. Each time it covered her face she would flick it back and look straight at him. Then her tongue would push out from between her full, pouting lips and lick the rim of her mouth from one side to the other. Just thinking about where that tongue had been made Augusto rise to the occasion.

The strip was important to Lydia as well. For it marked the only moment in their sessions when she was in charge. When she could provoke him. When she could control his lust. In many ways, it was the most exciting moment for Lydia. Maybe if she had stopped to think about that then she would have realised just how dangerous her obsession was becoming. But Lydia did not consider it. She was built to serve her master.

Now she was down to her red bra, red stockings and matching suspender belt. Slowly and provocatively she unhooked the bra, leaving it
hanging there for a few moments. There was just a hint of her shapely breasts below the line of the bra. She ran her hands up her stomach – slowly, ever so slowly. She watched him watching her. Once again running her own tongue around the rim of that pouting mouth. Then she pushed her hands up and under the bra and squeezed her breasts hard. She knew he liked it when she did that. But Lydia had not yet finished. She held both bosoms out towards her lover. Pointing them, invitingly, towards him. Then she knelt on the double bed and began rubbing her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She squeezed them fairly tightly to ensure they would grow quickly. Within seconds they had become bullets, hard and aimed at him. Lydia closed her eyes for a moment and soaked up the pleasure she was giving herself. If only he would do it to her sometimes.

She removed the bra completely, crammed her breasts together and leant over her lover’s face, smothering him with the fullness of her body.

Lydia was in ecstasy. At last she was close to climaxing. They had been making hot passionate love for almost three hours but this was the nearest she had been to satisfaction all afternoon. Augusto might have come three or four times already but then he was not really interested in Lydia’s contentment.

Suddenly, as if by some cruel stroke of fate, the doorbell sounded. Lydia was so close and yet so far. She tried to keep going. She wanted Augusto to carry on. Don’t stop now! Not now! But the bell rang continuously. Mocking her. As though there were some deliberate plan to stop Lydia climaxing, to ruin her one and only moment of sheer enjoyment. She tried to keep going but the noise was too much.

‘Please, Lydia. It might be an emergency. You must answer it.’

Augusto was quite relieved the doorbell had interrupted them. He had long since passed the point of satisfaction. It was actually becoming a bit tedious now – in any case it was almost time to go to work. The bar where he served was expecting him there at 7pm.

The bell was still shrilling away as Lydia pulled herself off her lover and wrapped a pink silk dressing gown around her naked, burning body. Who could it be? What was happening? Lydia unhooked the latch and opened the door. She could not believe her eyes.

Bella Pineda was shaking with rage as she rang the bell, her mind scarred by the knowledge that her own husband – the father of their two children – was in this flat having sex with that slut. It was just a few days before she was due to give birth to a beautiful bouncing baby boy.

She knew what was happening because she had followed him all the way there. She did not want to believe it. In fact, she had sat there – hot and uncomfortable – in her car outside the flat for nearly three hours before she decided to confront them. She knew they could not have spent all that time just talking. They had to have been screwing together. There was no doubt in her mind. She just felt so betrayed.

‘You bitch. Where’s my husband?’

Lydia was stunned. For a split second she stood there in silence. She just did not know what to say. She tried to wrap the silky nightgown more tightly around her lithe body. It was a strange reaction to the situation – almost as if she did not want her lover’s wife to see what he had just devoured.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Not exactly convincing and she knew it.

At that moment, Augusto appeared. When Bella saw him, it really was the ultimate insult. Her husband and his lover standing there almost naked while she stood by, heavily pregnant with their baby.

‘If you are not home in one hour then I never want to see you again.’

Despite the situation, Bella was still prepared to forgive. She did not mean what she was saying. She just wanted to make sure he returned. She loved her husband very very much. She would do anything to
make him happy. She was there to serve and obey. But then both women were originally from the Philippines. Their subservience had been ingrained deep within them from an early age. They had a lot more in common than they ever realised. Both existed solely for his pleasure.

Now, even as she stared at the evidence of her husband’s adultery before her very eyes, Bella thought only of how to hold on to him. She wanted to make sure that other woman could never have him all to herself. She wobbled away from the apartment feeling a strange mixture of sadness and satisfaction. She had suspected Augusto was seeing another woman. Now it was out in the open and he would have to end it. Bella would never return to that flat ever again.

‘Look, Lydia. I don’t think I can see you for a bit. It’s better if we don’t meet.’

Augusto was struggling to get his clothes on as he tried to explain to his mistress why they would not be making love ever again. But Lydia was not going to accept it all that easily.

‘But I want you. I want to be your wife.’

Augusto cringed. What had he done? This was supposed to be an innocent love affair. But then how can any illicit sex be innocent?

He said little but decided a lot. He was not going
to see Lydia again. It was not worth it. In any case, all this talk of marriage was really worrying him. He wanted sex not love. Couldn’t she understand that?

‘I’ll be in touch.’

Augusto did not sound very sincere as he left the flat that day. But what else could he say? For her part, Lydia read the blank spaces between the words all right. But she could not contain her love for Augusto. She had to have him. He was her salvation. Without him, she was just a lonely nurse living in a big, unfriendly city.

‘Hello, Augusto. I must talk to you …’ CLICK.

Lydia’s heart sank when the phone line went dead. She dialled the number once again.

‘You must talk to me. Come round tonight …’ CLICK. It happened yet again.

Lydia could feel the resentment building up inside her. She had to see him. He could not just discard her like this. ‘He said he loved me … He said he loved me … He said he loved me.’

The words kept ringing through her head. She picked up the phone once more and dialled the number.

‘I love you, Augusto. How can you do this to me?’ CLICK.

The phone went dead for the last time. Lydia thought about Augusto. Lucky Augusto. Happy
Augusto. The man who had everything. A wife, two children and a pretty lover. He had it all and she had nothing. She could not stand to even contemplate him getting into bed later that night with his wife after having kissed his two children goodnight. He had what she wanted. She could not bear it. It had to change. She would not give him up that easily. There had to be a way to win him back.

Lydia sat and thought for hours and hours. Every time a plan came to her she dismissed it from her mind because it was too outrageous. But she could not get him out of her head. She thought back to all the passionate love-making. The things he used to say to her.

It was then she decided. She had devised a scheme. She reckoned it could work if she planned it carefully. She was obsessed. She had to have him.

The underground train was virtually empty on that early morning of 6 September 1982. It was travelling out of the centre of London to the suburbs when millions of commuters were going the other way. In one carriage, there was a solitary figure staring demurely out into the blackness of the tube. She seemed to be in a trance. Even when the train stopped at a station her eyes did not waver, did not follow the people getting on and off. She was just looking into a huge nothing. A cavity of emptiness.
She felt no emotion. Just steely determination. She often thought this way when she was about to perform some unpleasant task during her work as a nurse. It helped to divorce herself from the reality. It made the most distressing moments much more tolerable. But this time, Lydia Galladan was about to perform a special duty – one just for her own, tiny, insignificant little self.

She got off at Balham Underground Station. The sun shone brilliantly, market stalls lined the nearby streets, crammed with bustling crowds. But she walked in a vacuum. The grey, tatty cheap shop fronts might as well not have existed as far as Lydia was concerned.

She opened the A to Z street directory and marched up Tooting High Road. It wasn’t far. In any case, she would have walked one hundred miles to find this particular house. It could have been a war zone anywhere in the world – it would have made no difference to Lydia. She was going to get to that house and perform her duty. Her only wish was to love and obey him and she was about to make the ultimate sacrifice. Soon she would have him all to herself. She neared the house in College Gardens, Tooting. But there were a lot of people in the street and she did not want them to notice her.