Final Beat of the Drum, page 26
‘Maybe her arrogance – she thinks she’s so much smarter than I am. The problem is, she may be right,’ Louisa said miserably.
‘Play on that,’ Paniatowski said. ‘Give her the impression that you don’t consider her to be half as smart as she thinks she is …’
At the table, the other members of the team tried not to look at their ex-boss, but it soon proved to be an impossible task.
‘She looks worried,’ Beresford said.
‘Well, of course she’s worried,’ Meadows said. ‘She always was a bit nervy at this stage of an investigation.’
‘Not like this,’ Beresford said. ‘The last time I saw her looking this worried was the night Louisa went missing, when she was fifteen.’
‘And now she’s worried about Louisa again – worried she’ll have to resign the job she obviously loves to save us from going to gaol,’ Meadows said. ‘And it’s all my fault.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Beresford told her.
‘Can’t I? If I hadn’t gone to the Hellfire Club, we wouldn’t be in this mess. And even if I had gone, but not allowed myself to be intimidated by Andrew Lofthouse’s threats, we’d all be in the clear.’
‘We’ve all made mistakes in our time,’ Beresford said. ‘And look at it this way – if we hadn’t become involved, there’s a good chance Jane Lofthouse would have got away with murder.’
‘If the expression on the boss’s face is anything to go by, there’s a good chance Jane will still get away with murder,’ Meadows countered. She turned to Crane. ‘Could you possibly go up to the bar and buy me a drink, Jack?’
‘Sure,’ Crane said. ‘Orange juice?’
‘No, I’ll have a Sidecar.’
‘What the bloody hell is a Sidecar?’ Beresford wondered.
‘A cocktail – brandy, Cointreau and lemon juice. The barman will know how to mix it. And tell him to make it a strong one.’
‘I’ve never seen you drink before,’ Beresford said.
‘I haven’t had a drink since I came to Whitebridge,’ Meadows told him. ‘That’s because I thought I didn’t need one – because I thought my days of screwing everything up were behind me. But today I’m right back on form – and that deserves a drink.’
Paniatowski switched off her phone, and walked back to the table. ‘That was Louisa,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘She needed a little advice on how to continue with the interrogation, but she’s expecting a breakthrough soon.’
It was a brave attempt at cheering the others up, but sadly none of the others believed her.
In the front parlour of the Grapes, Chief Superintendent Towers held his double whisky up to the light, as if examining it for flaws, then took a generous sip.
‘Is it true that Rutter is currently interrogating a suspect in the Lofthouse murder?’ he asked DCI Dawson, who was sitting opposite him, and nursing a half of bitter.
‘Yes, it is,’ Dawson confirmed.
‘You should never have allowed that to happen,’ Towers said.
‘How could I have stopped it?’ Dawson wondered.
‘You’re the chief investigating officer.’
‘And Ms Rutter not only outranks me, she’s the temporary boss of the whole shebang,’ Dawson said. Though he was trying not to show it, he was happier – and more relaxed – than he’d been for days. He couldn’t play Towers’ games anymore, because there was no arena in which to play them, not now Louisa Rutter had taken the case out of his hands. All he had to do was keep silent, and he was free and clear.
He couldn’t do it – couldn’t resist the opportunity to have a crafty dig at Towers, even though the man scared him half to death.
‘Well, that’s certainly pissed on your chips, sir,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can’t stop Ms Rutter solving the case anymore.’
Towers took a sip of his whisky. ‘And why shouldn’t I want her to solve the case?’ he asked.
‘Well, I … I thought that you thought that if the case wasn’t solved …’ Dawson began.
‘You really are a fool, aren’t you?’ Towers asked, contemptuously.
‘No, I—’
‘As I thought I’d already explained to you, whether or not the case is solved became irrelevant the moment I learned that Rutter’s mother had been conducting her own little illegal investigation. That gives me all the power over Saint Louisa I need.’
You really are a bastard, aren’t you? Dawson thought.
But aloud, he said, ‘You seem to have it all worked out, sir.’
‘Oh, I do,’ Towers agreed complacently. ‘If Rutter solves the case, it allows her to go out in a blaze of glory. If she doesn’t solve the case, she leaves with her tail between her legs. But either way, she goes.’ He took another sip of his whisky. ‘There’s just one more thing I’d like to make clear now I don’t need you anymore.’
‘What is it?’
‘When I promised I’d make you my deputy, I was lying. You’re weak and incompetent and easily bullied – and I’d rather have Donald Duck as my number two.’
When Louisa entered the interview room, Jane Lofthouse glanced at the clock, then said, ‘That was a long breath of fresh air. Where’ve you been? Having a quiet weep to yourself in the ladies’ loo?’
No she hadn’t, but even so, the comment was a little too close for comfort, Louisa thought.
She sat down again, and switched on the recorder. ‘Interview resumes at one forty-five,’ she said. She cleared her throat. ‘Jane Lofthouse, I am charging you as an accessory before and after the fact in the murders of Andrew Lofthouse and James Hadley. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.’
‘Accessory before and after the fact?’ Jane Lofthouse repeated. ‘What is this? A demotion? Half an hour ago, you were threatening to charge me with murder, pure and simple.’
‘Ah, but you see, that was before I asked Kate Meadows’ advice,’ Louisa said.
‘You asked Kate Meadows’ advice? Why, in God’s name, would you do that?’
‘Because she’s a trained police officer, and while you were in Overcroft House … Which is how long, sergeant?’
‘Six weeks,’ Boyd said.
‘While you were in Overcroft House, she had ample opportunity to observe and assess you.’
‘So what?’
‘The conclusion she’s reached is you have neither the personality nor the brain power to devise an intricate murder plot.’
‘Well, if that is her conclusion, it just goes to show what a stupid bitch she is,’ Jane said. ‘No personality or brain power! That’s not me she’s talking about – it’s poor little Jane Lofthouse, the beaten wife. That’s just the role I was playing.’
‘In her opinion, it was Jim Hadley who came up with the plan, and Jim Hadley who actually killed your husband.’
‘Jim Hadley?’ Jane repeated, disbelievingly. ‘He didn’t even have the balls to go back to Overcroft House and remove the interrupter switch from the basement, once it was all over. Do you seriously think he’d be brave enough to murder Andrew? And if he was the one who planned and executed the killing, why was it necessary for me to leave Overcroft House that night?’
‘So you do admit leaving it?’ Louisa asked.
‘No, of course I don’t. I’m merely taking your flawed logic and following it to its natural conclusion.’
‘I’m merely taking your flawed logic and following it to its natural conclusion,’ Louisa repeated. ‘You see, sergeant, it helps to be able to use phrases like that. You can use them to camouflage the fact that you’re a bit thick.’
‘Don’t talk to him – talk to me!’ Jane Lofthouse said angrily.
‘Why did you have to leave Overcroft House that night, you ask,’ Louisa mused. ‘Well, Kate thinks – and I agree with her – that it wasn’t really your choice. Hadley insisted you come along, because he thought he was rescuing you from a brute, and like the knight errant in the story books, he wanted his lady there when he slew the dragon, so that she could admire him.’
‘I see. And after he killed Andrew, he killed himself, did he? He hit himself over the back of the head, stripped, washed himself, and hung himself? Is that what happened?’
‘Obviously not,’ Louisa said awkwardly.
‘You haven’t thought it through, have you?’ Jane Lofthouse demanded gleefully. ‘You were so busy worrying over the first murder that you didn’t even consider the second.’
It was ridiculous to assume that the police could be so stupid, but it didn’t seem ridiculous to Jane. She was now clearly in such a state of arrogant anger that it was easy for her to believe that not only was Louisa not as intelligent as she was, but the woman was a positive moron.
‘You … you must have had another lover who did that job for you,’ Louisa said, playing the part that Jane had assigned to her.
‘If I had another lover who was prepared to kill for me, then why did I need to seduce poor useless Jim Hadley?’ Jane asked.
‘To … to deal with the alarm system.’
‘But why would I need the alarm system dealing with? Couldn’t my other lover have made Jim superfluous by killing Andrew himself?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘You suppose so! But let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that Jim did kill Andrew. Was this other lover of mine a friend of his?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
Jane sighed theatrically. ‘I really do have to spell it all out for you, don’t I?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you think that Jim might just have been a little bit nervous after killing Andrew?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Yet again, you suppose so. So we have Jim, who’s as nervous as only Jim can be, yet he turns off his alarm system, and lets his murderer into his house. Doesn’t that suggest he knew and trusted whoever it was?’
‘I never said the alarm system was immobilized,’ Louisa said. ‘How did you know it was?’
‘I …’
‘Let’s just summarize some of the things you’ve just told us,’ Louisa suggested. ‘You’ve told us that you were only pretending to be a victim of domestic abuse. You’ve told us that you knew all about the interrupter in the basement, and wanted Hadley to go back later and remove it. You’ve told us that Hadley didn’t have the balls to carry out a killing himself. And you’ve told us that, despite the fact that he was frightened on the night he died, he switched off all his alarms – a detail that was not in the newspapers – because he knew and trusted his killer. Have I got that right?’
For a moment, Jane looked shocked. Then her expression went through a series of minor contortions.
She was starting to realize that she’d made a big mistake, Louisa thought. And now she was faced with a choice. She could admit to being a complete fool – or she could persuade herself it was all part of the plan.
‘So you’re finally there,’ Jane said. ‘Thank God for that. Frankly I was wondering just how many more hints I was going to have to drop before you got the picture.’
‘So you admit to killing your husband, Andrew Lofthouse?’
‘He deserved to die. He’d never achieved anything himself, and he was cheating me out of my life’s work.’
‘I need a “yes” or “no”,’ Louisa said.
‘Yes, I killed him.’
‘And did you also kill James Hadley?’
‘He was so weak. He wanted to go crawling to the police. He wanted to tell them he had no idea I was going to kill Andrew.’
‘And is that true?’
‘Not that it matters one way or the other, but yes, it’s true.’
‘So you admit killing him, too?’
‘Putting him out of his misery would be a better way to phrase it.’
‘I suppose I’d better change the charge from “accessory to murder” to straightforward murder,’ Louisa said.
‘Well, I should think you would,’ Jane said. ‘And let’s have no more sloppiness in this investigation, please.’
When Chief Superintendent Towers arrived at Chief Superintendent Rutter’s office, the latter was on the phone, and gestured to him that he should take a seat.
Towers lowered himself into a chair in front of the desk. This was going to be fun, he thought – but only for one of them.
‘Yes,’ Louisa was saying into the phone. ‘Yes … thank you … I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’ She replaced the phone on its cradle, turned to Towers, and smiled. ‘What can I do for you, Ben?’
‘I just dropped by to congratulate you over the Lofthouse case,’ he lied. ‘It was a good result.’
‘It was for me, certainly,’ Louisa said, ‘but according to what Sergeant Boyd has told me, you must be far from happy with it.’
‘So Boyd’s been shooting off his mouth, has he?’ Towers asked. ‘There’s a man who likes to play with fire.’
‘Or he could just be a man who puts the quest for justice above office politics,’ Louisa replied. ‘And just so you know, he’s under my protection now, so I wouldn’t try to exact any petty revenge if I was you.’
And a lot of good her protection was going to be, Towers thought.
‘Since you refuse to believe I’m here to congratulate you, you probably wonder why I am here,’ he said.
‘Not at all,’ Louisa replied. ‘You’re here to suggest that I take early retirement, in order to be able to look after my mother. If, however, I refuse to follow your advice and stay on, you’ll kindly arrange for my mother to be cared for by HM’s prison service. Have I got that about right?’
Towers frowned. ‘Impeding a criminal investigation and/or perverting the course of justice are very serious matters,’ he said. ‘You’re being very unwise to treat the matter so flippantly.’
‘And I’m not only flippant, I’m very relaxed,’ Louisa said.
Towers laughed. ‘I’ve just realized what you’re doing,’ he said. ‘You’re putting up a front – it’s all pure bloody bravado.’
‘Most of the detective work that led to Jane Lofthouse’s arrest was carried out by my mother and her team. Did you know that?’
No, he didn’t, and the news came as bit of shock, but then he realized it didn’t matter.
‘Even if all the detective work was done by them, it makes absolutely no difference,’ he said. ‘The law is the law, and there’s never any excuse – in the eyes of our system of justice – for breaking it.’
Louisa bowed her head and sighed. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Mum’s done wrong and she’ll have to be punished. But I’d like to ask you one small favour – could I just take her out for afternoon tea before you arrest her?’
‘You should be worried – and you’re not,’ Towers said, sounding worried himself.
‘Maybe it’s just more bravado,’ Louisa suggested.
But it wasn’t – he could see that now.
‘Just what is the trump card you imagine you’re holding?’ he demanded.
‘I’m just picturing my mother’s trial,’ Louisa said reflectively. ‘Some of the jurors will be old enough to remember her in her heyday, when she was something of a local hero. As for the younger ones – what they’ll see is this sweet old lady who could be their granny.’
‘Your mother looks less like a granny than any pensioner I’ve ever met,’ Towers said.
‘She may not look like a granny now, but I’ll make sure she does when she’s in the dock,’ Louisa said. ‘Anyway, her barrister won’t discuss whether or not she’s guilty, because she obviously is. Do you know what he’ll say instead?’
‘No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?’ Towers said.
Louisa grasped the lapels of her jacket between her thumbs and first fingers – a typical barrister’s posture. ‘Jane Lofthouse had already murdered two people, and she wouldn’t have stopped there,’ she said, in a plummy voice. ‘Once a woman like her gets a taste for killing, there’s no holding her. She’d have killed again, and again, and again. And who might her next victim have been? It could have been a relative of yours – your partner, say, or one of your children. And who stopped her from doing these terrible things? Monika Paniatowski stopped her.’
‘But that’s rubbish,’ Towers protested. ‘Jane Lofthouse isn’t a mindless psychopath. She only killed for a specific purpose – to achieve a certain aim. It’s highly unlikely she’d ever have killed again.’
Louisa slowly shook her head from side to side.
‘Ben, Ben, Ben,’ she said, her tone larded with regret, ‘you should have learned by now that it’s the side with the best story that wins any court case – and our story is bloody good. Our barrister’s underlying message to the jury – never said explicitly but writ large in capital letters for all of them to see – is that they’ll hate themselves if they send my mum to gaol, and the only way to avoid that is to find her “not guilty.” And a “not guilty” verdict is what they’ll deliver.’
‘The judge might set the verdict aside, purely as a matter of law,’ Towers said.
‘He could – but we both know he won’t, because he won’t want his family and friends shunning him, and members of his exclusive golf club turning their backs on him. And let’s not forget how the tabloid press would react.’ Louisa smiled. ‘Not that the scenario I’ve just outlined is actually going to happen, because Horatio Bascombe QC, our esteemed local crown prosecutor, is perfectly capable of picturing what a disaster such a prosecution would be, and in order to avoid the humiliation of losing, he won’t even allow it to get to court. But it wouldn’t be an easy decision for him to take, and I don’t think he would look kindly on the man responsible for him having to make it.’
‘This is all a bluff,’ Towers blustered.
‘It isn’t a bluff. There’s a part of you that already knows that, and it won’t be long – probably only the time it takes you to get back to your own office – for the rest of you to realize you’ve been backing the wrong horse.’
‘I’m not finished with you yet,’ Towers snarled.
‘I didn’t think you would be,’ Louisa replied. ‘By the way, about that phone call I was taking when you arrived …’
