“And was Margot really worried about how Dorothy Oakden’s mother died?”
“No,” said Janice again. “But I ’ad to tell you somefing, didn’t I?”
“You’re a genius of misdirection,” said Strike, and Janice turned slightly pink.
“I’ve always been clever,” she mumbled, “but that don’t ’elp a woman. It’s better to be pretty. You ’ave a better life if you’re good-looking. Men always went for Irene, not me. She talked shit all night long, but they liked ’er better. I wasn’t bad-looking… I just didn’t ’ave what men liked.”
“When we first met the two of you,” said Strike, ignoring this, “I thought Irene might’ve wanted you interviewed together to make sure you didn’t spill her secrets, but it was the other way round, wasn’t it? You wanted to be there to control what she said.”
“Yeah, well,” said Janice, with another sigh, “I didn’t do that well, did I? She was blabbing left, right and center.”
“Tell me, did Charlie Ramage really see a missing woman in Leamington Spa?”
“No. I just needed to give you somefing to fink about instead of Margot prodding Kev in the tummy. Charlie Ramage told me ’e saw Mary Flanagan in a country churchyard in… Worcestershire somewhere, I fink it was. I knew nobody could say no diff’rent, I knew ’e was dead and I knew ’e talked such bollocks, nobody round ’im would remember one more tall story.”
“Was the mention of Leamington Spa supposed to nudge me toward Irene and Satchwell?”
“Yeah,” said Janice.
“Did you put drugs in Wilma Bayliss’s Thermos? Is that why she seemed drunk to people at the surgery?”
“I did, yeah.”
“Why?”
“I already told you,” said Janice restlessly, “I don’t know why I do it, I just do… I wanted to see what would ’appen to ’er. I like knowing why fings are ’appening, when nobody else does…
“’Ow did you work all this out?” she demanded. “Talbot and Lawson never suspected.”
“Lawson might not have done,” said Strike, “but I think Talbot did.”
“’E never,” said Janice, at once. “I ’ad ’im eating out me ’and.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Strike. “He left a strange set of notes, and all through them he kept circling back to the death of Scorpio, or Juno, which are the names he gave Joanna Hammond. Seven interviews, Janice. I think he subconsciously knew there was something off about you. He mentions poison a lot, which I think had stuck in his mind because of the way Joanna died. At one point—I was reading the notes again, last night—he copies out a long description of the tarot card the Queen of Cups. Words to the effect that she reflects the observer back at themselves. ‘To see the truth of her is almost impossible.’ And on the night they hauled him off to hospital, he hallucinated a female demon with a cup in her hand and a seven hanging round her neck. He was too ill to string his suspicions together, but his subconscious kept trying to tell him you weren’t all you seemed. At one point, he wrote: ‘Is Cetus right?’—he called Irene Cetus—and eventually I asked myself what she could’ve been right about. Then I remembered that the first time we met the pair of you, she told us she thought you were ‘sweet on’ Douthwaite.”
At the sound of Douthwaite’s name, Janice winced slightly.
“Oakden said you got giggly around Douthwaite, too,” Strike continued, watching her closely. “And Dorothy bracketed you with Irene and Gloria as some kind of scarlet woman, which implies you’d done some flirting in front of her.”
“Is that all you went on: me flirting once, and being the Queen of Cups?” said Janice, managing to get a note of scorn into her voice, though he thought she seemed shaken.
“No,” said Strike, “there were plenty of other things. Strange anomalies and coincidences. People kept telling me Margot didn’t like ‘the nurse,’ but they got you confused with Irene a lot, so it took me a while to twig that they really did mean you.
“Then there was Fragile X. When I saw you that first time, with Irene, you claimed you’d only been to visit the Athorns once, but the second time I met you, you seemed to know a hell of a lot about them. Fragile X was called Martin-Bell syndrome back in the early seventies. If you’d only seen them that one time, it seemed odd you knew exactly what was wrong with them, and used the modern term…
“And then I started noticing how many people were getting stomach upsets or acting drugged. Did you put something in the punch at Margot and Roy’s barbecue?”
“I did, yeah,” she said. “Ipecac syrup, that was. I fort it would be funny if they all thought they’d got food poisoning from the barbecue, but then Carl broke the bowl, and I was glad, really… I just wanted to see ’em all ill, and maybe look after ’em all, and ruin ’er party, but it was stupid, wasn’t it?… That’s what I mean, I sailed close to the wind sometimes, they were doctors, what if they’d known?… It was only Gloria who ’ad a big glassful and was sick. Margot’s ’usband didn’t like that… ruined their smart house…”
And Strike saw the almost indiscriminate desire for disruption that lay behind the meek exterior.
“Gloria throwing up at the barbecue,” said Strike. “Irene and her irritable bowel syndrome—Kevin and his constant stomach aches—Wilma swaying on her feet and vomiting while she was working at St. John’s—me, puking up my Christmas chocolates—and, of course, Steve Douthwaite and his vision problems, his headaches and his churning guts… I’m assuming it was Douthwaite Irene was flirting with, the day you put Amytal capsules in her tea?”
Janice pressed her lips together, eyes narrowed.
“I suppose you told her he was gay to try and get her to back off?”
“She already ’ad Eddie gagging to marry ’er,” Janice burst out. “She ’ad all these blokes down the pub flirting with ’er. If I’d told ’er ’ow much I liked Steve, she’d’ve taken ’im for the fun of it, that’s what she was. So yeah, I told ’er ’e was queer.”
“What are you drugging her with, these days?”
“It varies,” said Janice quietly. “Depends ’ow much she’s pissing me off.”
“So tell me about Steve Douthwaite.”
Suddenly, Janice was breathing deeply. Her face was flushed again: she looked emotional.
“’E was… such a beautiful man.”
The passionate throb in her voice took Strike aback, almost more than the full stock of poisons she was keeping in her kitchen. He thought of the cheeky chap in his kipper tie, who’d become the puffy, bloodshot-eyed proprietor of the Allardice in Skegness, with his strands of graying hair stuck to his sweating forehead, and not for the first time, Strike had reason to reflect on the extraordinarily unpredictable nature of human love.
“I’ve always been one to fall ’ead over ’eels,” said Janice, and Strike thought of Johnny Marks dying in agony, and Janice kissing him farewell on his cold dead cheek. “Oh, Steve could make you laugh. I love a man what can make you laugh. Really ’andsome. I used to walk past ’is flat ten times a day just to get an ’ello… we got friendly…
“’E started dropping in, telling me all ’is problems… and ’e tells me ’ow ’e’s mad about this married woman. Fallen for ’is mate’s wife. On and on and on about ’ow ’ard ’er life is, and there’s me sitting there wiv a kid on me own. What about my ’ard life? She ’ad an ’usband, didn’t she? But no, I could tell I wasn’t gonna get nowhere wiv ’im unless she was out the way, so I fort, right, well, she’ll ’ave to go…
“She was no better lookin’ than I was,” muttered Janice, pointing at the picture of Joanna Hammond on the wall. “State of that fing on ’er face…
“So I looked ’er up in the phone book and I just went round ’er ’ouse when I knew ’er ’usband was at work. I used to ’ave this wig I wore to parties. Put that on, and me uniform, and a pair of glasses I used to ’ave, but I didn’t need. Rang the doorbell, told ’er I’d ’ad a tip-off about ’er domestic situation.
“Peo
ple will always let a nurse in,” said Janice. “She was desperate to talk to someone. I got ’er good and emotional, cryin’ and all that. She told me about sleeping with Steve, and ’ow she fort she was in love wiv ’im…
“I made ’er a drink wiv latex gloves on. “’Alf of it was weedkiller. She knew, the moment she tasted it, but I grabbed ’er ’air from be’ind,” Janice mimed the motion in mid-air, “pulled ’er ’ead back, forced it down ’er fuckin’ throat. Oh yeah. Once she was on the floor, chokin’, I poured some more down, neat.
“’Ad to stay a while, to make sure she didn’t try an’ phone anyone. Once I knew she was too far gone to recover, I took off me uniform an’ left.
“It takes nerve,” said Janice Beattie, her color high and her eyes bright, “but act normal and people don’t see nothing strange… you just got to ’old your nerve. And maybe I wasn’t showy-looking when I was young, but that ’elped. I wasn’t the kind people remembered…
“Next day, near enough, I ’ad Steve crying ’is eyes out round my place. It was all going great,” said the woman who’d poured neat weedkiller down her rival’s throat, “I saw ’im loads after that, ’e was round my place all the time. There was somefing there between us, I could feel it.
“I never drugged ’im a lot,” said Janice, as though this was true evidence of affection. “Only enough to stop ’im going out, make ’im feel ’e needed me. I used to look after ’im really well. Once, ’e slept on my sofa, and I wiped ’is face for ’im, while ’e was asleep,” she said, and again, Strike thought of the kiss she’d given the dead Johnny Marks.
“But sometimes,” said Janice, with bitterness, “men fort I was the mumsy type and didn’t see me as anyfing else. I could tell Steve liked me, but I fort ’e might not be seeing me the right way, you know, wiv bein’ a nurse, and Kev always dragging round after me. One evening, Steve come over, and Kev was ’aving a tantrum, and Steve said, he thought ’e’d be off, let me look after Kev… and I could tell, I fort, you’re not gonna want me wiv a kid. So I fort, Kev needs to go.”
She said it as though talking about taking out the bins.
“But you gotta be careful when it’s your own kid,” said Janice. “I needed to get an ’istory going. ’E couldn’t just die, not after being perfectly ’ealthy. I started experimenting wiv stuff, I was finking, maybe a salt overdose, claim ’e did it on a dare or somefing. I started putting stuff in ’is food ’ere and there. Get ’im complaining to teachers about stomach aches an’ that, and then I’d say, “Oh, I know, I think it’s a bit of schoolitis’…”
“But then Margot examined him,” said Strike.
“But then,” repeated Janice slowly, nodding, “that hoity-toity bitch takes ’im into ’er surgery and examines ’im. And I knew she was suspicious. She asked me after, what drinks it was I’d given ’im, because the little bastard ’ad told ’er Mummy was givin’ ’im special drinks…
“Not a week later,” said Janice, twisting the old wedding ring on her finger, “I realize Steve’s going to see ’er about ’is ’ealf, instead of coming to see me. Next fing I know, Margot’s asking me all about Joanna’s death, out the back by the kettle, and Dorothy and Gloria were listening in. I said, ‘ ’Ow the ’ell should I know what ’appened?’ but I was worried. I fort, what’s Steve been telling ’er? ’As ’e said ’e finks there was somefing wrong wiv it? ’As someone said they saw a nurse leaving the ’ouse?
“I was getting worried. I sent ’er chocolates full of phenobarbital. Irene ’ad told me Margot ’ad ’ad freatening notes, and I’m not surprised, interfering bitch, she was… I fort, they’ll fink it’s ’ooever sent them notes, sent the chocolates…
“But she never ate ’em. She frew ’em in the bin in front of me, but after, I ’eard she’d taken ’em out the bin and kept ’em. And that’s when I knew, I really knew. I fort, she’s gonna get ’em tested…”
“And that’s when you finally agreed to go on a date with simple old Larry,” said Strike.
“’Oo says ’e was simple?” said Janice, firing up.
“Irene,” said Strike. “You needed access to concrete, didn’t you? Didn’t want to be seen buying it, I’d imagine. What did you do, tell Larry to take some and not mention it to anyone?”
She simply looked at him out of those round blue eyes that nobody who hadn’t heard this conversation could possibly mistrust.
“What gave you the idea of concrete?” Strike asked. “That rumor of the body in the foundations?”
“Yeah,” said Janice, finally. “It seemed like the way to stop the body smelling. I needed ’er to disappear. It was too near ’ome, what wiv ’er examining Kev, and asking me about Joanna, and keeping those chocolates. I wanted people to fink maybe the Essex Butcher got ’er, or the bloke ’oo sent the threatening notes.”
“How many times had you visited the Athorns before you killed Margot?”
“A few.”
“Because they needed a nurse? Or for some other reason?”
The longest pause yet ensued, long enough for the sun to slide out from a cloud, and the glass Cinderella coach to burn briefly like white fire, and then turn back into the tawdry gewgaw it really was.
“I sort of fort of killing them,” said Janice slowly. “I don’t know why, really. Just from the time I met ’em… they were odd and nobody ever went there. Those cousins of theirs visited once every ten years. I met ’em back in January, those cousins, when the flat needed cleaning out, to stop that man downstairs going to court… they stayed an hour and let ‘Clare’ do all the rest…
“Yeah, I just fort I might kill the Athorns one day,” she said, with a shrug. “That’s why I kept visiting. I liked the idea of watching an ’ole family die togevver, and waiting to see when people realized, and then it’d be on the news, probably, and I’d know what ’appened when everyone was gossiping, local…
“I did a bit of experimenting on ’em. Vitamin injections, I told them it was. Special treatments. And I used to hold their noses while they were asleep. Used to pull up their eyelids and look at their eyes, while they were unconscious. Nurses don’t never give anesthetics, see, but Dr. Brenner was letting me ’ave all sorts, and the Athorns just let me do stuff to ’em, even Gwilherm. ’E loved me coming over. ’E’d spend days on benzedrine and then ’e’d get sedatives off me. Proper junkie.
“I used to say to ’im, now, don’t you go telling anyone what we’re doing. These are expensive treatments. It’s only because I like your family.
“Some days, I used to fink, I’ll kill the kid and then give evidence against Gwilherm. That was one idea I ’ad. I fort, I’ll get in the papers, all dressed up, give evidence against ’im, you know. My picture on the front page… and I fort that’d be somefing interesting to talk to Steve about, when ’e seen my picture in the paper. Men love nurses. That was the on’y fing I ’ad going for me when I was out wiv Irene, and then the bitch starts pretending she’s a nurse an’ all…
“Only fank Gawd I never did any of that, fank Gawd I saved the Athorns, because what would I ’ave done wiv Margot if I ’adn’t ’ad them up the road? I’d nicked their spare key by then. They never noticed.
“I never fort it would work,” said Janice, “’cause I ’ad to frow the plan togevver in about five minutes. I knew she was onto me, when she saved the chocolates, and I was up all night, finking, worrying… and it was the next day, or maybe the day after, Steve went charging out of her surgery that last time. I was scared she’d warned ’im about me, because when I went round that night, ’e made some excuse not to let me in… I mean, ’e never went to the police, so now I know I was being paranoid, but at the time—”
“You weren’t being paranoid,” said Strike. “I spoke to him yesterday. Margot told him he ought to stop eating anything you prepared him. Just that. He understood what she was saying, though.”
Janice’s face grew redder.
“That bitch,” she said venomously. “What did she do that for? She ’ad a
rich ’usband and a lover wanting her back, why’s she got to take Steve off me?”
“Go on,” said Strike, “about how you did it.”
A subtle change now came over Janice. Previously, she’d seemed diffident, matter-of-fact, or even ashamed of her own impetuousness, but now, for the first time, she seemed to enjoy what she was saying, as though she killed Margot Bamborough all over again, in the telling.
“Went out wiv Larry. Told ’im some bullshit about this poor family what needed to concrete over somefing on their roof terrace. Said they were dirt-poor. ’E was so keen to impress me, silly sod, ’e wanted to go do the building work for ’em.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I ’ad to give ’im all this crap about ’ow that would made the dad feel inadequate… I said just nicking a few bags of concrete mix off the building site’d be enough.
“Larry drove it to Albemarle Way for me and carried it up to their landing. I wouldn’t let ’im come any further, said it would be uneffical for ’im to see patients. ’E was silly, Larry, you could tell ’im anyfing… But he wouldn’t marry me,” said Janice suddenly. “Why is that? Why wouldn’t anyone marry me? What ’aven’t I got, that ovver women ’ave?” asked the nurse who’d pulled back the eyelids from her drugged victims to stare into their unseeing eyes. “Nobody ever wanted to marry me… never… I wanted to be in the paper in a white dress. I wanted my day in church and I never got it. Never…”
“You needed an alibi as well as concrete, presumably?” said Strike, ignoring her question. “I assume you chose the demented old lady in Gopsall Street because she couldn’t say one way or another whether you’d been with her when Margot disappeared?”
“Yeah,” said Janice, returning to her story, “I went to see ’er late morning and I left drugs there and a note, to prove I’d been in. I knew she’d agree I was there early evening. She didn’t ’ave no family, she’d agree with anyfing you said to ’er…
Troubled Blood: A Cormoran Strike Novel Page 93