Mummy's Favourite (15 page)

There was nothing he was going to say.

A prepared statement was all they were to get.

He pushed it across the table towards them. She picked it up and knew they would get nothing more from him, although of course they would still have to try. The words were written in Justin's own handwriting. Each paragraph started and ended with a flourish, the first letter accentuated with a large flowing capital and the last with a long swirling tail. The rest of the writing was neat, with all the letters the same height and width apart, and Charlie couldn't help thinking how similar to his personality the handwriting seemed; very controlled and orderly but with the odd ostentatious gesture. She picked the statement up and held it so that both she and Hunter could read it together. It was short and to the point.

‘So,' Charlie started forcefully. ‘Why did you lie to us about whether you knew Julie Hubbard?'

‘No comment.'

‘Was it because your relationship with Julie was much more than simply platonic?'

‘No comment.'

‘Were you conducting a full-blown affair with Julie?'

‘No comment.'

‘We've spoken to your wife, Dana, as I'm sure she's told you and she seems to think you were?'

Justin narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘No comment.'

‘She says that you've had many affairs during your marriage, which she doesn't like but has come to accept, and this is another of your affairs.'

‘No comment.'

‘But this one had been going on for longer than most.'

‘No comment.'

‘Were you getting a bit too attached to Julie?'

‘No comment.'

‘Or was she getting too attached to you?'

‘No comment.'

‘Cramping your style?'

‘No comment.'

‘Causing problems?'

‘No comment.'

‘Did it cause an argument?'

‘No comment.'

‘Or a fight?'

‘No comment.'

‘Did it all go a bit too far?'

‘No comment.'

‘Something happen that you didn't mean to happen?'

‘No comment.'

She could see Justin's composure beginning to slip. He was trying to seem blasé and unconcerned, sitting back, arms folded, that slight, smug smile glued to his face, but she could see the tell-tale signs that it was all beginning to get too much. His breath was becoming rapid, a slight tic was appearing at the corner of his mouth as the questions were getting more searching and his right leg twitched independently of the rest of his body. Hunter had obviously noticed too. He was waiting for her to come in for the kill.

‘Was she threatening to expose you?'

‘No comment.'

‘And it all came on top?'

‘No comment.'

‘Justin, did you kill her?'

His face was getting redder and redder. He looked as if he was about to burst with rage. Instead he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly.

‘No comment,' his voice was controlled and icy. She paused deliberately. Justin had sat up straight now, his chair pulled in to the table; his hands placed palms down on the surface in front of him.

‘Well did you?' she said calmly, looking straight at him. ‘You haven't answered my question.'

He stared back at her intently, but it was his eyes, rather than hers, that were the first to shift focus. He smiled then as if he suddenly understood, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

‘Read my statement,' he said calmly now.

‘I did. You only mentioned you didn't know her location now, not what happened the day she disappeared. So I'm asking you if you know what happened at the time of her disappearance.'

‘No comment.'

‘We will be looking further into your relationship with Julie. You've lied to us once before already, are you sure you don't want to tell us all about it now before we can prove that you've lied again?'

‘No comment.'

‘Because I'm in no doubt that there is more to your relationship than you're telling us.'

‘No comment.'

‘And I'm sure you'll agree that if you're found to be
lying
again to us, we'd be totally within our right to assume that you're trying to hide something.' She accentuated the word lying. She'd managed to repeat it several times just to make the point.

Justin stayed quiet.

‘So is there anything else you want to say before we conclude this interview?'

He didn't say a word.

‘OK then. Interview terminated.'

Hunter reached over and pressed the switch to stop the recording. With a flourish, he pulled the tapes out from the machine and sealed them.

‘Until the next time, Justin. I'm sure we'll be speaking again very soon.'

The new pit was finished. It was ready and waiting and the trap was set. He couldn't wait to pick up his victims. It wouldn't be long. They were primed and ready. He'd known Helena a long while ago but recently he'd seen her and her daughter in the paper, smiling proudly, showing off the ballet medals the darling daughter had won in the national show. Spoilt little bitch! She was obviously the apple of her mother's eye, after all she'd been included in
The Times
cultural section.

So fucking what! Daisy McPherson could dance. She could spin around and stand on tiptoes. Why did that make her better than her sister? Why was her older sister, Abigail, forced to watch, time and time again, as her younger sibling got all the praise? No doubt she was told she should be proud: that Daisy was doing it for the family, that the family should support her. Bullshit, total and utter bullshit. Daisy was obviously Mummy's favourite and Abigail would know it. Deep, deep within her core, she would know she wasn't good enough, she never would be. She would always be in her younger sister's shadow.

He knew what it was like. He felt Abigail's pain. He hated Daisy McPherson and her snivelling, tedious, dreary mother, Helena, for what they were doing to Abigail. Very soon though Abi would be number one. Very soon!

He nudged the seat upright in his hired BMW and pulled his sunglasses into place. They were barely needed as the car already had tints. The fake driving licence which he had used to hire the car was safely in his pocket. Helena and Daisy McPherson would be climbing into his car soon to be driven to their deaths. He shuddered with the thrill of the chase. Didn't he love this bit the best? It was so fucking good!

Taking the side roads, he gradually made his way to the McPherson house. As he neared, he pulled on his chauffeur's cap, straightened his tie and adjusted his black leather gloves. He was well disguised today, gold tooth, brown wig that was held in place by the cap, fake scar that ran from the centre of his left cheek down to the corner of his mouth, not too vivid but evident enough to be remembered, sunglasses. He'd thought carefully about the disguise and he was pleased. All of the additions were intended to be memorable, to divert attention away from his normal features but easily removable when the job was done. Even the chauffeur's uniform was a triumph; Helena McPherson and Daisy would be so stupidly pleased that he looked so official. It was so faultlessly simple. It would increase their feelings of self-importance, when really they were nothing.

They were standing on the door-step when he pulled up outside and he heard Daisy's squeal of pleasure and saw Abigail's sad, jealous face as she stood next to her. Both girls ran towards the car.

‘You can't come with us today,' Daisy scoffed at her sister.

He hated her the moment she said those words.

‘We've got time for a quick ride around the block,' he found himself saying to Abigail. ‘Here, sit in the front next to me.'

Helena McPherson bustled towards them with a large bag before dropping it in the boot and squeezing in next to Daisy, who was slumped malevolently in the rear. Abigail sat up tall in her seat in the passenger side. He drove around the block slowly, carefully, taking sideways glances at Abigail, recognizing the conflict in her eyes. She loved her sister but she hated her too. She wanted her to do well, but not at her expense. Why couldn't she do well too? It wasn't fair. She couldn't hide her delight at this small gesture though and her eyes shone when she smiled at him. And he wondered whether that was how he had looked when he had made his own mummy smile, pleased and proud, happy for once in his life. He nearly missed the house, so carried away in his own memories was he, and if Daisy hadn't cried out he would have kept going.

‘We're back now. She has to go in. She's not allowed to come with us today.'

He broke hard at those words, stopping suddenly, but the temptation to take Abigail with them nearly overcame him. Wouldn't it be nice to show her what he was about to do to snooty Daisy and her pathetic mummy? Maybe Abi would enjoy the show, just as he had enjoyed watching his own brother die; but what would he do with her then if she saw? He would have to kill her too or keep her locked away, and she was too nice to die or be caged. It was risky enough knowing that she had seen him. She'd seen the scar; he'd caught a glimpse of her staring at it through the corner of his eye. She'd no doubt remember his counterfeit features, but would she recall the face underneath? He had to hope she wouldn't. No! He'd accepted the risk. She deserved some time being indulged by her father. She deserved to live.

He got out and opened her door and she jumped out, leaning over spontaneously to kiss him quickly on the scar-free cheek and say ‘thank you' and then she was gone, scampering back up the garden path into her house without a word to her mother or sister.

He missed her immediately. She was nice, ordinary, not spoiled like her little sister. What he was about to do would make things better for her. What he was about to do would make her number one.

Daisy was squealing again now, once more centre of attention. He glanced into the mirror and saw her pretty, doll-like face and it made him angry. He could see only ugliness and pride. He watched her crane her head up to see out of the window better and noted the way her neck stretched and twisted, so long, so graceful, so easy to slit open. It would be a pleasure after the way she'd treated Abigail.

Helena could not take her hands off Daisy; brushing her hair, adjusting her clothing, pampering and preening.

Mother and daughter were so wrapped up in their own world they didn't even realize they were going in entirely the wrong direction and he wouldn't say a word until he'd got them to the old deserted hospital. It didn't take long. As he turned into the site, Helena's head popped up, staring out the windscreen from the back seat. She had been so busy organizing her daughter she'd barely said a single word to him.

‘Where are we?'

‘Never you mind where we are. Just shut the fuck up and do what I say.' His voice was gruff and hard.

He saw the expression on her face change from mild interest at where they were, to sheer terror as it dawned on her what was happening. He loved watching that. He loved that look of terror so very fucking much. It was what made him come back day after day after day to see that same expression, to watch it change again from terror to hopelessness as their favourite offspring gradually decomposed next to them.

He watched her hand go to the door and slowly pull at the handle, but the door remained shut. Did she think he would be stupid enough not to put the child locks on? He was in control, after all. They would leave the car when he said they could; and not before.

He couldn't help the grin from spreading across his face.

‘Give me your bags and your phones,' he said quietly but firmly. ‘And no more messing.' He pulled out the hunting knife he'd placed carefully in his door pocket. The blade was so sharp that even the slightest brush against skin would cause the blood to flow.

‘Where are you taking us?' her voice was shaking with fear. Even Daisy was silent now.

‘You'll see. It's lovely. So quiet. No one will ever know we're here.'

He pulled the bags across to the passenger side and went through them, swiftly removing the mobile phones and switching them off. He didn't trust her though. He would be watching her every move. He lifted the knife up so that she could clearly see it.

‘Don't do anything stupid now, will you? Or Daisy will pay.'

The message was simple and he could see she understood. What she didn't realize was that Daisy was going to pay, whether she behaved or not. In fact, he couldn't wait for the moment when he would shut her precious daughter up for good.