Unsafe Convictions (7 page)

‘
Don’t mind Frances,’ Wendy said. ‘She’s been our solicitor for years, so she can’t help treating me as if I’m still in ankle socks.’ She smiled, rather sadly. ‘She was an absolute brick when Mother died.’

‘
Was your mother ill for long?’

‘
She wasn’t ill at all. I think I thought she’d live for ever, then she just went, like the light had gone out.’

‘
It must have been a dreadful shock,’ Janet sympathised.

‘
Oh, it was! And I still miss her. I plan to do something, or I hear a bit of juicy gossip, and I still say to myself: “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Mother.” Then I remember she’s not here any more, and it hits me like a fist in the chest. I even find myself feeling winded, at times.’

‘
You can ask if shock affected her professional judgement when the tape’s switched back on.’ Frances appeared in the doorway with a glass of neat whisky in her pudgy fingers. ‘Personally, I think it did, but Wendy said she went on to auto pilot, as it were.’ She returned to the kitchen, and Janet heard the clatter of crockery landing on a tin tray, and the sucking sound of a refrigerator being opened and closed. The aroma of percolating coffee seeped into the room.

‘
I wouldn’t know, would I?’ Wendy asked. ‘If my judgement was affected. It’s far too subjective, and Mother’s death made such root-and-branch changes nothing could ever be the same. There’s always going to be a before and after.’

‘
Were you dependent on her? Emotionally?’

‘
That’s a silly question, if ever I heard one!’ Frances clumped back into the room, put the tray on the table with another loud clatter, and resumed her seat. ‘Of
course
she was dependent, and even though they had the odd row, they were still very, very close. Most of the arguments came about because it’s always a struggle for a mother and daughter to redefine their relationship into something acceptable to two grown women.’ She glanced at Ellen. ‘You can switch on again now, dear. D’you like cream and sugar with your coffee?’

When
Wendy made no attempt to take control of this simplest and least contentious of proceedings, Janet wondered if she always needed someone on whom to depend, and were therefore always vulnerable to more powerful personalities. As Frances handed over her coffee, black and steaming in a pretty china cup, she assessed the impressions gathered in the last hour, asking herself if Wendy Lewis’s rather naive responses implied more than a somewhat immature personality under extreme stresses. ‘You realise that your change of heart about the letter creates an entirely new set of circumstances, don’t you?’

Wendy
nodded.

‘
Does Father Fauvel have much day-to-day contact with the Willows?’

‘
As much as he can, but he’s very busy,’ Wendy said. ‘He’s the only priest permanently on the management committee, and he takes his turn on the various parish committees and so forth. The church is involved in a lot of community activities, far more than the Anglicans.’

‘
But they’ve only got the vicar and a curate,’ Ellen said. ‘Whereas, apart from the nuns and Father Fauvel, there are usually at least two junior priests lodged at the presbytery and doing something with the church.’

‘
Most people still think the Protestants aren’t very well served,’ Wendy commented snappishly.

Putting
her cup in its matching saucer, Janet said: ‘Inspector Dugdale said you’d researched Beryl Stanton Smith’s background. Although the relevant details are written up, I wonder if you could elaborate. What were your personal impressions of her?’

‘
Well,’ Wendy began, slurping her coffee like a child, ‘at first, I thought: “What’s a woman like this doing with a loser like Smith?” Have you met him yet?’ As Janet shook her head, she went on: ‘When you do, you’ll see what I mean, which is all I’m saying, because I don’t want to give the impression we were so prejudiced about him it blinded us to the truth.’ She blinked fiercely. ‘I mean, Beryl’s filthy rich. When she sold the shop site it was as good as winning the lottery jackpot. Her house is a gorgeous old rectory at the foot of the moors, and it’s been the family home since her grandfather moved out here. He made pots of money before the war, and he and her father made pots more afterwards, so she led a charmed life. She went to a posh boarding-school in Derbyshire, had her own horses, and just about everything else that money could buy.’ Wendy smiled, rather spitefully. ‘The only thing she couldn’t apparently get was a husband, so in the end, she bought one.’

‘
What brought you to that conclusion?’

‘
She’s very spoiled and arrogant, although I’m not sure she’s aware of it, and she just can’t relate to people. Maybe all that money isolated her from reality, or simply turned her into a dreadful snob.’

‘
Their relationship could be based on genuine affection,’ Janet suggested. ‘Even love. Where did they meet?’

‘
At the shop, apparently. Smith met both of them there. Trisha was a salesgirl, and Beryl was cracking the whip. I don’t know if he kept in regular contact with Beryl, but she was definitely on the scene before the divorce, offering a shoulder to cry on, if nothing else. She told me, in confidence, that she’ll never forgive herself for standing by and doing nothing while Trisha ate into his very core like a “fat maggot”.’

‘
Are you suggesting she deliberately encouraged the divorce by tempting him with a far more promising alternative?’

‘
I think that’s the way it was.’ Imagination triggered, Wendy added: ‘It’s a classic example of one person’s needs dovetailing perfectly with someone else’s.’

‘
Or the planned occupation of a mutually fertile feeding ground,’ Janet commented.

‘
That’s a very clever observation, dear.’ Frances leaned forward to pat Janet’s arm, and let her fat fingers loiter for a moment too long. ‘But really not necessary and, to my mind, a way of showing off your superior education.’ As her fingers drew away, almost reluctantly, she frowned. ‘You should have more respect for the background of your fellow officers. Not many people can enjoy the privileges you had, and Wendy, for one, struggled to get where she is. Nothing was handed to
her
on a plate.’

Janet
’s self-control stopped her from engaging in the verbal skirmish Frances clearly hoped for. ‘I see you’ve done your homework, Miss Pawsley,’ she said, ‘although I’m not sure every answer would earn a tick. However, I do apologise for any offence. None was intended, I assure you.’

‘
I’m glad to hear it.’ Frances surveyed her, still frowning. ‘I trust you’ll make it clear to Superintendent McKenna that Wendy expects to get back to work very soon. Being under such a cloud is dreadful for her.’

‘
And for the other officers,’ Janet replied, ‘as Mr McKenna has stressed.’ She faced Wendy once more. ‘Returning to Broadbent, Sergeant Lewis, did you challenge her about her evasiveness?’

Wendy
shook her head. ‘There was no point. She’d only have looked at me like I was stupid, then denied everything. She’s tough when she wants to be.’

‘
Did she ever discuss Linda Newton?’

‘
No.’

‘
Did she indicate that she knew Inspector Dugdale?’

‘
What d’you mean?’

‘
Exactly what I say.’

Wendy
shrugged. ‘Not that I recall. Do they know each other? As friends, I mean?’

Without
answering the question, Janet went on: ‘Did Linda Newton discuss Broadbent at any time?’

‘
No.’

‘
Or Inspector Dugdale?’

‘
All the time. She made out they’re thick as thieves, and got quite shirty when I turned up to talk to her. She was
always
asking for him. The rest of us didn’t count in her book.’

‘
Did you discuss either woman with Inspector Dugdale?’

‘
Not really. Not in depth.’

‘
Why not?’

‘
He wouldn’t. When I asked him how to handle Broadbent’s secretiveness, he told me about her background, and said to leave it. When I said Linda was being funny with me, and demanding to talk to him, he just shrugged it off.’ She stared. ‘Is it important? Does it mean something? Should I have reported him at the time?’

‘
Reported him to whom?’ Janet asked.

‘
Superintendent Ryman, of course.’

‘
But what could you have said, dear?’ Frances asked. ‘You can’t very well report a hunch, can you?’

To
Janet, she added: ‘I think we should leave this kind of speculation out of the equation, don’t you?’

‘
I’m not speculating,’ Janet replied, ‘although I suspect Sergeant Lewis is allowing imagination to colour her responses. At the beginning of this interview she had no reservations about Inspector Dugdale, but then admitted she believes he suppressed vital evidence. Now, she seems to be concocting a conspiracy theory involving him and Newton.’

‘
And is that not precisely in line with Superintendent McKenna’s thinking?’ Frances asked, snatching victory in the fight Janet assumed had been abandoned.

‘
I beg your pardon?’

‘
I think you heard me.’

‘
Where did you get that information, Miss Pawsley?’

‘
Goodness me, we don’t disclose our sources,’ Frances said, pursing her mouth. ‘You should know better than to ask, but quite frankly, my dear, I’m not sure you do. In fact, I’m not even sure you should he here. Wendy outranks you.’

‘
When that issue was put to you both, you had no objections.’

‘
We didn’t realise how
young
you are,’ Frances replied. ‘More importantly, I imagined you’d be infinitely more experienced. After all, every police force has its complement of highly experienced officers in the lower ranks, but as it is, I think you’re completely out of your depth.’

‘
Then I have no choice but to terminate the interview and report back to Superintendent McKenna.’ Stowing notebook, papers and pens in her bag with shaking hands, Janet rose. ‘I trust you will ensure your client abides by the restrictions on her conduct and communications,’ she added. ‘I also trust you will remind her she is liable to arrest should she choose to breach those conditions.’

Chapter Four

‘Damn it!’ Janet thumped the steering wheel. ‘
Damn
it!’

‘
Stop over-reacting,’ Ellen said. She looked back at the bungalow, where the light from the room they had just vacated glowed warmly behind closed curtains, dimly illuminating the ice-rimed shrubs and hedges of the little suburban garden. ‘Pawsley’s an embittered, frustrated old dyke panting to get her hands inside Lewis’s undies and, living in hope, she’ll dance to whatever tune Lewis plays. Right now, her “little girl in distress” routine is plucking at the old bat’s heartstrings.’

‘
And very successfully,’ Janet commented, firing the engine.

‘
Then again,’ Ellen added, ‘it could be her only tune. In my opinion, Lewis reached the limits of her emotional and intellectual development about twenty years ago, and she’s spent the time since perfecting the art of manipulation. When Mother kicked the bucket, probably out of utter desperation, Pawsley became the poodle.’ She yanked down the seat-belt. ‘They’re both seething with sexual frustration, and I thought the atmosphere was very girls’ boarding-school. Didn’t you?’

‘
It was something,’ Janet agreed, ‘and rather suffocating, but all that aside, they’ve presented us with a serious problem. Dugdale’s obviously been shooting off his mouth.’

‘
Don’t fall into Pawsley’s trap. She
wants
us to drop on him like a ton of bricks, but she probably got her information from Hinchcliffe.’ Massaging her cold hands in front of the warm-air vents, Ellen added: ‘The legal profession survives on internal networks and tittle-tattle. These solicitors will be in touch constantly, updating, querying, planning strategies, while, in total ignorance, Dugdale and co. think only
their
interests are calling the shots. Believe me, I know.’

‘
I’m sure you do.’ Driving along the poorly lit road, Janet several times felt the rear wheels lose grip on patches of black ice.

‘
What’s your impression of Lewis?’ asked Ellen. ‘As a police officer?’

‘
My impression of her as a person, which will entirely determine how she functions professionally, is that she’s weak, indecisive, lacking in insight, influenced by emotion and passing thoughts, and has poor reasoning.’ Reaching the High Street, she turned left. ‘And because she herself hasn’t a clue what she’s doing or why she’s doing it, she creates confusion in others. Quite frankly, she’s the last person I’d have in charge of area child protection.’

‘
She’s very taken with her own hunches.’ Gazing through the window at empty pavements, darkened shops, and garishly lit pubs, outside which ugly-looking men circled and taunted bare-legged women in tiny skirts, Ellen shivered. ‘God! This is one depressing town.’

‘
It’s no different from a lot of other towns, although I do find the moors rather sinister. But that’s inevitable, I suppose, being so near the old haunts of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady.’

‘
And if they’d lived somewhere else, perhaps they wouldn’t have turned out quite so bad. Your perspectives and behaviour depend on your environment.’

‘
Human pain and misery are much the same everywhere.’ Seeing the Junction Inn ahead, Janet prepared to turn.

‘
But pain and misery are usually the outcome of what people do, not the reason,’ Ellen commented. ‘After all, you didn’t embark on last year’s holiday romance with a life-threatening upshot in mind, did you?’

The
car jerked as Janet’s hands tightened on the wheel, her knuckles gleaming white.

‘
Hard though it may be,’ Ellen went on, ‘it’s time to put it behind you. We’re all liable to lapses of one kind or another.’ She smiled gently. ‘After all, I was five months pregnant on my wedding day.’

‘
But your child lived.’

‘
And yours didn’t, because an ectopic pregnancy is completely unsurvivable. It was no one’s fault.’

‘
I thought of having an abortion,’ Janet admitted, ‘and when the decision was made for me, it seemed like God’s judgement.’ She fumbled in the open cigarette pack on the dashboard, clicking her lighter three times before it flared. ‘I became my own child’s tomb.’

‘
Don’t be so Gothic,’ Ellen said. ‘What d’you think made Lewis what she is? Whenever push comes to shove, I’ll bet she collapses with relief on the indoctrination of a lifetime, where the authority and infallibility of the Church, and of God’s representatives on earth, otherwise known as Father this, that or the other, rule her head and her heart. She’s irrational and irresolute because unquestioning obedience was drummed into her from birth. She wouldn’t even dare a reasonable doubt, let alone active heresy, for fear of eternal hell-fire. And don’t say,’ she added, as Janet almost rammed the wall of the Bull’s car-park, ‘that your religion’s any different. You’re completely indoctrinated with guilt over matters of the flesh.’

‘
It’s one way of keeping the beast under control.’

‘
Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Ellen was exasperated. ‘That’s complete drivel, especially from a woman of your intelligence!’

Janet
stared through the windscreen, with tears in her eyes.

‘
I’m willing to offer a shoulder to cry on,’ Ellen went on, ‘but only up to a point. You’ve already had more than adequate support from your colleagues, and it’s time you took yourself in hand. Career-wise, McKenna’s given you a plum job by bringing you into this investigation, but if
I
come to the conclusion you’re not functioning on all cylinders, believe me, Janet, you’ll be back in North Wales so fast your feet won’t touch the ground.
And
you’ll be facing a compulsory medical and psychological evaluation.’ She opened the car door, shivering in the blast of freezing air. ‘You’re not a child, and you’ve got to take responsibility for yourself. And you can start by eating properly. Just remember, I’ll be watching you.’