Waiting for Wednesday (37 page)

‘She did not.’

‘She must have moved away,’ said Frieda. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start. That’s fantastic, Josef. But I guess it’s the end of the trail.’ Then she noticed a faint smile on his face. ‘What is it?’

‘This Lila,’ he said. ‘She have a friend. Maybe a friend with the drugs or the sex.’

‘Who was it?’

‘Shane. A man called Shane.’

‘Shane,’ said Frieda. ‘Does she have a number for him? Or an address?’

‘No.’

‘Did she know his second name?’

‘Shane, she said. Only Shane.’

She thought hard and murmured something to herself.

‘What you say?’

‘Nothing, nothing much. That’s good, Josef. It’s amazing
you found that out. I never thought we’d get anything. But what do we do with it?’

Josef gazed at her with his brown, sad eyes. ‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘I know you need to rescue this girl. But you cannot do this. Is over.’

‘Is over,’ repeated Frieda, dully. ‘Yes. Perhaps you’re right.’ That evening, Frieda put the plug in her bath. She had bought oil to pour in and a candle that she would light. For a long time now, she had imagined lying in the hot foamy water in the dark, just the guttering candle and the moon through the window to give light. But now it came to it, she found she wasn’t in the right mood. It would just be a bath. She pulled out the plug and stood under the shower instead, briefly washing away the day. The bath would have to wait. It would be her reward, her prize.

THIRTY-NINE

Before interviewing Paul Kerrigan, Karlsson Skyped Bella and Mikey, sitting in his office and looking at their photographs in frames on his desk, and at their jerky images on the screen. They were excitable, distracted. They didn’t really want to be talking to him and their eyes kept wandering away to something out of sight. Bella told him about a new friend called Pia who had a dog. She had a large sweet bulging in her cheek and it was hard to hear what she was saying. Mikey kept twisting his head to mouth something urgently at whoever was in the room. Karlsson couldn’t think of anything to talk about. He felt strangely self-conscious. He told them about the weather and asked them about school, like some elderly uncle they’d barely ever met. He tried to make a funny face at them but they didn’t laugh. He ended the call early and went to the interview room.

Kerrigan’s face was swollen from his attack. There was a purple and yellow bruise on one cheek and his lip was cut. There were also pouches of fatigue under his eyes and deep grooves bracketing his mouth, which was slack, like that of an old man. He was unshaven, the collar of his shirt grimy, and one of the buttons was undone so that his stomach showed through, shockingly white and soft. Sitting in the interview room, he had a lumpy, defeated air. The skin under his nostrils was red and he kept sneezing, coughing, blowing his nose. Karlsson asked him once more about his movements on Wednesday, 6 April, when Ruth Lennox had been
murdered. He had a large white handkerchief that he buried his entire battered face in.

‘Sorry,’ he spluttered. ‘I don’t understand why you’re asking me this again. I’ve just been in hospital, you know.’

‘I’m asking because I want to get things clear. Which they are not. What did you do when you left Ruth Lennox?’

‘I’ve told you. I went back home.’

‘What time?’

‘Late afternoon, early evening. I had dinner with Elaine.’ He wrinkled his jowly face. ‘She made a pudding,’ he said slowly and clearly, as if his meal was his alibi.

‘You weren’t there until quite late that evening, Mr Kerrigan.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your wife has told us that you didn’t return home until nearly eight o’clock.’

‘Elaine said that?’

‘Yes. And that you had a shower and put your clothes in the wash.’

Paul Kerrigan nodded slowly. ‘That’s not right,’ he said.

‘We just want to know what you did between the time that Ruth Lennox left the flat and the time that you returned home several hours later.’

‘She’s angry with me. She wants to punish me. You must see that.’

‘Are you saying she’s lying about the time you came back?’

‘Everything’s ruined,’ he said. ‘Ruth’s dead and my wife hates me and my sons have contempt for me. And she wants to punish me.’

‘Do you know what contraceptive Ruth Lennox used?’ Karlsson asked.

Paul Kerrigan blinked. ‘Contraceptive? What are you talking about?’

‘You were sleeping with her for ten years. You must have known.’

‘Yes. She had the coil fitted.’

‘You’re telling me you knew she was using contraception.’

‘That’s what I just said.’

‘Yet your wife found condoms in your bicycle pannier.’ Karlsson looked closely at Kerrigan’s swollen, flushed face. ‘If your wife is no longer fertile and Ruth Lennox had an IUD, why would you have condoms?’

Now there was a long silence. Karlsson waited patiently, impassively.

‘It’s complicated,’ said Kerrigan, finally.

‘Then you’d better explain it to me.’

‘I love my wife. You won’t believe that. And we’ve had a good marriage, until now. Ruth didn’t alter that. I had two parallel lives and they didn’t touch. If Elaine hadn’t found out, none of this would have mattered. I just wanted to keep my marriage safe from harm.’

‘You were going to explain about the condoms.’

‘I don’t know how to say this out loud.’

‘But you’re going to have to.’

‘I have needs that my wife can’t meet.’

Karlsson was starting to feel almost queasy but he had to proceed.

‘Which was what Ruth Lennox was for, I suppose.’

Kerrigan made a hopeless gesture. ‘She was at first. But then it became like another marriage. I liked it, in a way. But I needed something else.’

‘And?’

‘There’s been someone else. For a while.’

‘Who?’

‘Do you need to know?’

‘Mr Kerrigan, you don’t need to worry about what I need to know. Just answer my questions.’

‘Her name’s Sammie Kemp. Samantha. She’s done some casual admin work for my company. That’s how we met. It was just fun.’

‘Did Ruth Lennox know of your relationship with Samantha Kemp?’

‘It wasn’t exactly a relationship.’

‘Did she know?’

‘She may have suspected.’

‘You should have told us this before.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with anything.’

‘Did she confront you about it?’

‘What did she expect? She knew I was being unfaithful. She knew I was sleeping with my wife. So …’

Karlsson almost laughed at that. ‘That’s really quite a clever way of almost convincing yourself. But Ruth Lennox didn’t see it like that?’

‘It’s not as if she didn’t know things had run their course.’

‘You were going to leave her?’

‘Not according to her,’ Paul Kerrigan said bitterly, before he could stop himself. A flush spread over his face.

‘Let me get this clear. You were having an affair with another woman, Samantha Kemp, and you wanted to end your relationship with Ruth Lennox but she wouldn’t accept that.’

‘I wanted it to be mutual. No recriminations. Ten good years. Not many people manage that.’

‘But Ruth Lennox didn’t see it that way. Was she angry? Did she even threaten to tell your wife?’

‘She wouldn’t have behaved like that.’

‘Shall we stick for the moment to what you actually did, rather than what you’re claiming she would have done if she hadn’t been murdered?’

‘I was with Sam that Wednesday.’

‘With Samantha Kemp?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t tell us this before.’

‘I’m telling you now.’

‘So you went from your Wednesday afternoon with Ruth Lennox to another assignation with Samantha Kemp.’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘At her flat.’

‘I’ll need her contact details.’

‘She’s got nothing to do with any of this.’

‘She has now.’

‘She won’t be pleased.’

‘You realize this changes everything? You had a secret that only one other person knew. You and Ruth Lennox had to trust each other. That was probably easy as long as you both wanted to continue your affair. For ten years you protected each other from being discovered. The problem arose when one of you wanted to leave.’

‘That’s not how it was.’

‘She had power over you.’

‘You’re making a mistake. She didn’t threaten to expose me and I was with Samantha Kemp from the moment I left the flat until the time I came back home. Check it if you don’t believe me.’

‘Don’t worry, we will.’

‘If that’s all, I have things to do.’

He stood up from the chair, scraping it across the floor. Karlsson stared at him and waited, and eventually he lowered himself once more.

‘I haven’t done anything except be stupid,’ he said.

‘You’ve lied to us.’

‘Not because I killed Ruth. I loved her.’

‘But you were planning to leave?’

‘Not planning in the way you mean. Just aware things were coming to an end.’

‘She could have wrecked your marriage.’

‘She has anyway, hasn’t she? From beyond the grave.’

‘How was she going to make you stay with her?’

‘I’ve already said that she wasn’t. She was just angry. You’re twisting words to suit your suspicions.’

‘I think you’re still withholding information. We will find it out in the end.’

‘There’s nothing to find out.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘I tell you there’s nothing. Under the mess is just more mess.’

Further along the corridor, Yvette was interviewing Zach Greene, Judith Lennox’s boyfriend. He worked part time for a software firm based in a converted warehouse just off Shoreditch High Street. He was a tall, skinny man with small pupils in eyes that were almost yellow. He had bony wrists, long, nicotine-stained fingers, and his brown hair was shaved close to his skull in a soft bristle. Yvette could see a V-shaped scar running from his crown to just above his delicate left ear. He had rosebud lips and shapely eyebrows, like a woman’s, a nose stud and a tattoo just visible above his shirt. Everything about him contradicted everything else: he looked soft and rugged, feeble and aggressive, older than his years and much younger. He smelt of flowers and tobacco. His shirt was a pastel-green and on his feet were stout army boots. He was oddly attractive and a bit creepy, and he made Yvette feel dowdy and deeply unsure of herself.

‘I know that theoretically it’s against the law.’

‘No, it’s definitely against the law.’

‘But why do you assume we were actually having sex?’

‘Judith Lennox says you were. If she’s lying, then say so.’

‘Why do you assume I knew her age?’

‘How old are
you
?’

‘I’m twenty-eight.’

‘Judith Lennox is fifteen.’

‘She looks older.’

‘That’s a large age difference.’

‘Jude is a young woman. She knows her own mind.’

‘She’s a girl.’

He gave a tiny, almost invisible shrug with one shoulder. ‘Power is what matters, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘The law is there to prevent the abuse of power. In our case, it’s irrelevant. As far as I’m concerned we’re both consenting adults.’

‘The fact remains that she’s a minor. You’re guilty of a criminal offence.’

For a brief moment, anxiety broke the surface. His face puckered. ‘Is that why I’m here?’

‘You’re here because her mother was killed.’

‘Look. I’m really sorry about that but I don’t see the connection.’

‘Did you ever meet Mrs Lennox?’

‘I
saw
her. I didn’t meet her.’

‘She didn’t know about you?’

‘Jude thought she wouldn’t understand. And I wasn’t going to argue.’

‘You’re quite sure you never met?’

‘I think I’d remember.’

‘And you think that Mrs Lennox wasn’t aware of your existence.’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Did she suspect that Judith was involved with someone?’

‘I never met the woman. Why don’t you ask Jude?’

‘I’m asking you,’ said Yvette, curtly. She saw him give his tiny smile.

‘As far as I know, she didn’t suspect. But mothers have a way of sensing things, don’t they? So maybe she noticed something was up.’

‘Where were you on the evening she was murdered – Wednesday, the sixth of April?’

‘What? Do you really think I would have killed someone because I didn’t want them to find out about a relationship with their daughter?’

‘It’s a criminal offence. You could go to prison.’

‘This is all crap. She’s nearly sixteen. She’s not a little kid in pigtails with scabby knees. You’ve seen her. Drop-dead gorgeous. I met her at a club. Where you have to be eighteen to get in, by the way. And show your ID.’

‘How long have you been involved with her?’

‘What do you mean by
involved
?’

‘Oh, please, just give me an answer.’

He closed his eyes. Yvette wondered if he could feel the pulse of her hostility from where he was sitting.

‘I met her nine weeks ago,’ he said. ‘Not long, is it?’

‘And she’s on the Pill?’

‘You’ll have to ask Jude about things like that.’

‘Are you still with her?’