Blood Notes, page 21
‘I don’t see what else there is to discuss, Chief Inspector. Edmund has explained what happened. We don’t plan to sue Grace or her family for building an unstable brick construction on the beach. What else do you need to know?’
Hale paused. Steph could see his jaw tighten. ‘What you won’t know is that we found Harriet Weston’s body in her beach house this morning.’
Taken aback by this sudden revelation, Steph realised that Hale wanted to shock them into a reaction.
Edmund’s head suddenly jolted up. ‘No, not Harriet! She can’t be dead. She can’t be! What happened?’
‘We’re not sure until after the post-mortem. We’re talking to all those who may have seen her the evening before she died.’
‘Dead? I can’t believe it! She was fine when I saw her yesterday.’ Edmund was pale and close to tears. A flash of puzzlement passed across Imogen’s face and she looked searchingly at Edmund.
‘Yes, we know you were there,’ said Hale. ‘What time did you leave?’
Imogen turned her head on one side, frowned at Edmund, then gave Hale a hard stare. ‘What is this about, Chief Inspector? This feels like a formal interview, and why is Mrs Grant here?’
‘This is not a formal interview; as I said, we would like your help with our enquiries. I asked Mrs Grant to join us because she is working with us as a civilian detective. As an ex-member of my team she has a significant contribution to make.’
‘So you work for the police?’ Imogen made it sound as if it was the worst job in the world.
‘No, I work at the college, but Chief Inspector Hale has asked me to help. If you object to me being here, I’ll leave.’ She hoped this calculated gamble would pay off.
‘No, we have nothing to hide and want to help you as much as possible,’ said Imogen. ‘Now what do you want to know?’
The tension that had spread through her with Imogen’s challenge disappeared a little, but Steph decided to stay silent and leave it to Hale.
‘As I said, we are trying to piece together the visitors to Harriet Weston’s beach house over the last few days. You’ve never been there, have you, Mrs Fitzgerald?’
‘No. When Edmund had his coaching sessions with Harriet, I dropped him in the harbour car park, then collected him about two hours later. I saw no need to go into her house. She never invited me.’
‘You’ll be willing to have your fingerprints and DNA taken for elimination then?’
‘I said we’ll help you in any way we can, Chief Inspector. Now if that’s all?’
Imogen placed her hands on the wooden arms and was halfway out of her chair when Hale stopped her.
‘We’ve not quite finished yet. I’d like to go through the visits Edmund made to the beach house.’ He nodded and turned to Edmund. ‘You went to Harriet for help on Sunday night after your accident at the barbecue.’
‘You saw me there.’
‘You also went there on Monday?’
‘Yes, the night of the surge tide.’
‘When did you get there?’
‘About seven o’clock, I think.’
‘Why did you visit her when you couldn’t play your cello?’
Imogen stared at Edmund as if it was the first time she’d thought of it. In Peter’s study Harriet had said that Edmund had gone to ask her advice after his injury, and she was sure Imogen was there then and must have heard it. Maybe that’s what they were arguing about when she and Hale had interrupted. Edmund bent down to pet Derek before he spoke.
‘Harriet asked me to come. To talk about the changes to our programme because of the injury, you know. We had to change what we’d planned.’
‘You drove him there, Mrs Fitzgerald?’
‘No. Not on that occasion.’
‘I got a lift with Harriet after college. She said she’d drive me home after we’d finished but, as you know, the flood came.’
‘And you knew about this, Mrs Fitzgerald?’
Imogen’s eyes moved up to the left, a sure sign that she was trying to think what to make up next. She appeared to have forgotten that she’d told Steph about the row with Edmund and that he’d phoned for a taxi before he stormed out. And why was Edmund lying too – trying to protect his mother? What was going on here?
Imogen lifted herself slightly out of her chair to smooth her skirt beneath her. Now comfortable, she smiled at Hale. ‘Edmund phoned me from college. There’s a pay phone there.’
‘Yet, the next day when you went to college, you said you didn’t know where he was.’
Once again, she looked flustered but quickly answered, ‘It’s none of your business, but if you must know, we had words and I don’t quite remember who said what.’
The creation of this tangle of lies was an amazing effort by both of them, and Steph could not see why they were telling such different stories.
‘Why didn’t you tell your mother where you were going, Edmund?’ asked Steph.
He sneaked a look at Imogen and paused. ‘Mother was… not pleased with the way Harriet was coaching me. You came to Snape. You heard.’
‘Go on,’ said Steph.
He paused again, then glanced towards his mother. She sat rigid, her eyes down and her lips thin and clamped tight. His voice became weaker and they had to strain to hear him.
‘Well, after that recital, Mother threatened to take me out of college. She was unhappy with Harriet’s influence on my playing.’ Another pause. He turned his shoulder towards them and away from his mother’s glare. ‘I’m afraid Mother was… rather… rather upset and cross about it. I decided not to tell her I was going to see Harriet in case she got angry with me again. Sorry Mother, they have to know. I have to tell them.’
His head dropped again. Steph had witnessed Imogen’s anger earlier and could imagine the growing tension between them since the Snape concert. He looked young and vulnerable and had been in the middle of a tug of war between two formidable women.
‘Then what happened?’ Steph prompted.
‘You know the rest. We were talking about my future. Then the surge tide came and flooded the house and car. There was a power cut and the phone wouldn’t work. Harriet lost her mobile in the flood so we couldn’t tell anyone. Then the next morning you came and rescued us. I stayed in the spare room.’
It was strange that he felt the need to keep saying that. Perhaps he was concerned about Harriet’s reputation. Or was it important he convinced his mother?
Imogen said nothing. Tight lipped, she looked as if she’d bitten into a lemon. Her disapproval was obvious, but why was she so angry? Could it be she felt guilty for having driven him towards Harriet – the woman she wanted him to reject? Perhaps she suspected something had been going on between them. And then there were all their lies.
‘Then you went back later that day?’ Steph continued pushing gently.
‘That’s when I helped you climb up the dunes with the dogs.’
Steph nodded, acknowledging his comment. ‘Why were you there again?’
‘We wanted to say thank you to her for letting me stay that night, so we took her a bottle of wine – didn’t we, Mother? You saw us.’ Steph felt as if she was being challenged to support him once again.
Steph turned to Imogen. ‘Did you go in then?’
Edmund jumped in. ‘No, she waited in the car park then drove me home. You saw her.’
Steph said nothing and neither did Imogen, who had turned to observe Edmund. Another pause. Edmund waited. At last Imogen spoke.
‘Yes, that’s right. I didn’t want to see her.’ Imogen had regained her frosty tone. ‘Now we’ve clarified all of Edmund’s visits, I assume that’s it. You have what you need, Chief Inspector?’
‘Not quite.’ Steph replied for him, and they all turned towards her. ‘When you made that visit to Miss Durrant, what did she want to talk to you about?’
Imogen pulled herself up in her chair and spoke to Steph as if to a rather annoying servant. ‘I told you that at the time – she offered Edmund additional theory lessons.’
‘I didn’t know that, Mother. You didn’t tell me. I mean, how kind of her.’
‘And where did your meeting take place?’
‘How much longer is this – this interrogation going to go on? I’m beginning to think I should phone my solicitor.’
‘It’s your right to do so. But at the moment you’re simply helping us to develop a timeline for the events that led to attempted murder,’ said Hale.
Edmund looked shocked. ‘Attempted murder? Are you talking about Miss Durrant’s accident?’
‘We now have evidence that someone pushed her down the stairs.’
‘That’s dreadful! Who’d want to do that to her? She was so sweet. We all loved her. You liked her when you met her that day, didn’t you, Mother?’
‘You must have been the last person to see her before she fell,’ said Hale.
Imogen slumped in her chair. Her eyes darted towards Edmund, then Hale. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then sat up straight and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right.’ She paused. She looked up and spoke louder. ‘I was the last person to see her before she fell because it was my fault. I think I may have pushed her.’
It took several moments for her last sentence to sink in. This shabby but ordinary sitting room felt the wrong place to hear such an admission. Edmund sat, mouth open, eyes wide, apparently unable to speak. Steph opened her mouth, about to ask ‘How?’, when Imogen continued.
‘I also killed Justine and Harriet Weston. I’m ready to confess to it all.’
Dumbfounded, they all stared at her, horrified that this tight, proud woman could be responsible for such monstrous acts. The silence stretched until Edmund’s piercing scream made them jump. He flew at Imogen across the room. Kneeling before her, he grabbed her legs, then pleaded with her, shaking her. ‘Mother – no – I don’t believe you! You couldn’t. Say nothing. You couldn’t… don’t tell them.’
Clearly waiting to see what would happen next as this surreal scene played out, Hale made no move towards mother and son. No way had Steph expected this when they rang the doorbell less than half an hour ago. Was it possible this woman could have committed these crimes?
‘I’m sorry, Edmund. It’s true. I did it for you.’ Imogen’s calm, controlled voice made it sound the most reasonable thing in the world.
‘For me? Why?’
‘You know how many hours, how many years we’ve worked together for your future. They were getting in the way.’
‘What?’ Edmund appeared horrified.
‘I heard you talking to Justine on the phone about forming a duo and going in early to practise. She’d have been a distraction. That morning I got to the music centre before you.’
‘But she committed suicide. Isn’t that right?’ Edmund appealed to Hale, who said nothing. Edmund continued, ‘And Miss Durrant?’
‘I had to stop her saying dreadful things about you. She was a threat to us. I followed her to the top of the stairs, grabbed her arm to make her listen, but she fell.’
‘How was she a threat?’ asked Steph.
‘She was trying to get the Principal to stop Harriet coaching Edmund at her house. It would have stopped Edmund from making progress.’
‘But that was what you wanted. You didn’t approve of Harriet’s approach. You should have been pleased,’ said Steph.
‘If you recall, Miss Durrant fell before the Snape concert.’ Imogen patiently corrected Steph as if she was a child making an elementary mistake.
‘And Harriet?’ asked Hale.
‘I had to stop her before she did real damage to Edmund. I thought she’d continue my work, not destroy it.’
Edmund howled. A pitiful scream. Derek hid under the sofa. Steph sat rigid, taken aback by the unemotional, controlled way in which Imogen had explained her actions; she felt Hale tense beside her, about to take action.
‘Mother! No! You can’t leave me!’
Imogen stood up and unfolded Edmund’s fingers from his grip on her arm. She patted his arm and moved towards Hale, who was now standing. ‘Chief Inspector, I’ll get my coat and we can do whatever has to be done.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Steph
The front door closed behind Imogen and Hale with a decisive click which echoed down the hall. When she and Hale rang the doorbell, Steph couldn’t have imagined that they would get a confession. All this death and grief created by the overpowering ambition of a mother for her talented son, who was staring at the front door biting his thumb, looking dazed.
‘Can I get you anything? Tea?’ she said. It sounded lame offering tea when his mother had been driven away to face the rest of her life in prison. Bad enough for anyone, but for Edmund, whose life had been concentrated only on his mother, it must be devastating.
‘No. Yes, please. A glass of water perhaps?’
‘I’ll get it. You go and sit down.’
She walked through to the back of the house and into the late twentieth century. The beige melamine cupboards with dark mock-wood worktops and orange wall tiles reminded her of her grandmother’s pride in her shiny new kitchen about forty years ago. She took two glasses of water through to the sitting room where Edmund sat on the chair recently occupied by Imogen. He held a silk scarf that she’d dropped as she left and was stroking it like a child with a comfort blanket.
‘Thank you.’ He lowered the scarf and took a few gulps before putting the glass down on the coffee table in front of him. Steph tried to put herself in his shoes and imagine what he would need to get him through the next few days.
‘Edmund, we need to think about your immediate future and perhaps phone Social Services.’
‘What do they do?’
‘They look after people who are left alone by their parents.’
‘Left alone? Won’t Mother be coming back later tonight or tomorrow morning?’
Steph wasn’t sure how much this boy had taken in about the gravity of his mother’s confession.
‘That’s unlikely. What your mother confessed to is serious, and the police will have to look after her until she comes to court for her trial. Social Services may want you to live with another family until you’re eighteen.’
He sat up straight. ‘I am eighteen.’
‘But I thought the Snape concert programme said you were seventeen?’
‘I was then, but my eighteenth birthday was the day before Grace’s barbecue.’
‘Right. Sorry, Edmund but I think it’s best if we check.’
She found the number for the duty social worker, explained Edmund’s situation, and was told as long as he wasn’t vulnerable, and he was over eighteen he could be left alone. Although Steph had suspected as much, she thought it best to double check as rules changed so quickly.
His coming of age changed many aspects of how he could continue his life without his mother. Although he wasn’t defined as vulnerable he would need a great deal of support living alone. Edmund looked relieved as he listened to her side of the call, but Steph felt reluctant to leave him alone.
‘That means you can continue to stay here, but you’ll need help. Do you have any relatives we could contact?’
‘No one that I know about. I have a father, but I’ve no idea where he is or how to contact him.’
Her stomach churned with the familiar tightening. What was she getting herself into? She must remain detached and not take emotional responsibility for him.
As he deliberately placed the glass in the centre of the cork coaster, the realisation of his situation appeared to be hitting him at last. His hands trembled, his eyes filled and when at last he spoke, Steph had to move to the edge of her seat to hear him.
‘Do you think she did all that? What she said?’ He spread his mother’s scarf over his lap, stroked it flat, folded it, then placed it on the table.
‘She admitted it. No one made her.’
‘But I don’t understand. They weren’t getting in my way, they were helping me.’ He paused. She gave him space. Then his words tumbled out. ‘Since I went to college, she hasn’t been happy and has lost her temper with me many, many times – I suppose it could be possible she’s done all those things she said she’d done. She’s always coming into college – you know that. I expect your friend Mr Hale will see that on cameras, will he?
‘I expect so, but let’s not go into that now, Edmund. It’s late and you ought to get some sleep so you’re ready for college tomorrow.’
He said nothing and stared at her as if waiting for something.
‘You have eaten this evening, haven’t you?’ asked Steph.
‘Yes, we had cheese on toast earlier before – before you came.’
‘Right. I suggest you lock up after I leave and go straight to bed.’
She stood up to signal that their talk was at an end. He didn’t move but remained sitting, his head now in his hands as if he hadn’t heard her.
‘I need to go now, Edmund.’ She put Derek back on his lead.
At his name Edmund lifted his head, gave her a look that could only be described as pathetic, then pushed himself out of the chair and moved towards her. ‘I don’t suppose you would… no, don’t worry, I’ll be fine here alone.’
‘I’ll see you at college tomorrow. Pop into reception on your way to lessons and we can talk then. Good night.’
‘Bye Steph, bye Derek.’ He touched Derek on the head as he passed.
Her walk down the path was lit by the hall light, but it seemed to take much longer to leave the house than it had taken to rush up to it earlier. She turned back and saw Edmund, now a silhouette in the doorway, lifting his arm and attempting a slight wave to her. She slowed down so she could hear the door close and be confident he had gone into the house.
As she walked back to her flat the dark, empty streets of Oakwood suited her desolate mood. This talented boy would have the most challenging time of his life over the next few months. Growing up was hard enough, but now he had to do it alone and cope with the publicity and local gossip of his mother’s crimes. She didn’t envy him his future and knew she must do what she could to help him without getting in too deep this time.
