Judith Wants To Be Your Friend

by Annie Weir

  ‘Just before you go, Judith, we have decided to take the fingerprints of everyone who was in and out of the cash office at that time,’ she says.

  ‘That’s a lot of people,’ I say. ‘Are you including the office fitters from Leeds?’

  ‘Yes we are,’ says PC Plod, and opens his little kit.

  ‘This all seems very old fashioned,’ I joke, ‘don’t you just do DNA now?’

  ‘We do what is appropriate to the situation, Madame,’ says Plod, ‘and this is mainly for elimination purposes; nothing to worry about.’

  I allow him to press each of my fingers and thumbs into the dye and roll them on the piece of paper with my name on. He asks me to sign it as mine. Mary Morris asks me not to relay any part of the proceedings to anyone else until everyone concerned has been interviewed.

  Later she comes down to the cash office and thanks us for our co-operation. She tells us that Maureen has been signed off sick until the end of next week, by which time everything should be able to be sorted out. She wishes me a pleasant break from work.

  Wednesday 24th February 2010

  I go back to the car hire place I used before and hire what looks like the same car. I will ring Mill View some time but for now I think I will pack a few things and spend a few days in Scotland or the Northumberland coast. I don’t really care where I end up, as long as nobody knows where I am. I drive home and spend a little while on the internet looking at B and Bs. I decide on Northumberland then I can go into Newcastle and get a bit of culture as well as blowing away cobwebs walking along the deserted beaches and sheltering in the sand dunes.

  In a moment of impulse I ring Mill View and ask how my mother is. I am shocked to learn that she has deteriorated a lot and has been very ill. Tina says she would have contacted me if she had had a contact number for me. That woman knows how to make someone feel bad just by her tone of voice. I’m sure they’re not supposed to do that in care homes. Anyway I agree to give her my mobile number, and she agrees a time that I can call in tomorrow morning so I decide to stay here for one more night and set off early.

  Chapter 12

  Hexham, February 2009

  Monday 2nd February 2009

  ‘Mr. Clements please,’ said Judith. ‘No, nobody else will do. I need to speak to him now.’ She waited for a couple of minutes then hung up and redialled.

  ‘Mr. Clements please. Thank you.’ This time she was put straight through. ‘Mr. Clements, it’s been three weeks since you put my flat on the market and nobody has been to view it. Where are you marketing it, apart from your shop window?’

  ‘I told you that I believe it is over-priced.’

  ‘And I do not!’

  ‘Anyway, I do have someone who took the details last week. I am hoping they will request a viewing.’

  ‘I hope so too. Will you chase them up?’

  ‘Yes, Ms. Dillon. I’ll do it today.’

  Tuesday 3rd February 2009

  ‘How have you been, Chloe?’

  ‘Much better, thanks Doctor. The tablets have been keeping me on an even keel and I’ve hardly seen Judith. I think I can stop taking them.’

  ‘Finish the course, but try taking half a one a day for the next week and if that’s still OK take half a one every other day until they’re finished.’

  ‘I don’t want to get hooked on them.’

  ‘You won’t. Trust me.’

  Saturday 7th February 2009

  ‘Mum, do you think Auntie Ju’s OK?’

  ‘I suppose so. Haven’t seen her for ages. That’s normally a good sign. She’s been to see Granny quite a lot as well. I think we won’t upset things while they are going smoothly. It’s easier that way.’

  ‘Ok; just wondered.’ She picked up the local paper and scanned it for what was on at the pictures and to see whether she recognised anyone in the articles. The property supplement fell out. ‘Mum, look! It’s Auntie Ju’s flat.’

  It seemed that Judith had frightened Mr. Clements enough to put a full page feature of her flat on the front cover of the property section.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Fiona. ‘I’ll give her a call.’

  Judith’s phone clicked to the answer service. ‘Ju. Do you want to come over for lunch tomorrow before we go to see Mum? Just let me know.’

  Sitting in the alcove, Judith listened to the message. She thought she should go round. Things were going horribly wrong and she needed her family; the trouble was that she hated to ask for help and hated to show weakness even to them. I’ll call them back later, she thought, when I’ve decided what to do.

  Monday 9th February 2009

  ‘Ms. Dillon? Mr. Clements here. It seems the full page feature on your flat has brought back the person who showed interest before. How quickly can I take them round? You don’t need to be there, of course.’

  ‘As soon as you can, please,’ said Judith, ‘today if you like. It’s all tidy.’

  ‘Good, this afternoon then at about two o’clock, while the light is still good.’

  Judith applied herself to the work she had to do so that she could get to the flat and meet her prospective buyers. She didn’t trust old Clements to push them for the asking price, and felt that she could sell its features much better than him. She was delayed slightly and didn’t leave the office until two, so arrived home at about quarter past. There were several cars in the visitors’ car park and she couldn’t tell whether or not she was too late. She left hers there too, for speed, and ran up the stairs. As she entered she could hear voices further in. Mr. Clements was saying, ‘Yes indeed, that is described as the study area, but you can see that the present owner uses it as a place to sit and enjoy the view.’

  She hung up her coat in the small cloakroom and tried to see who he was talking to. A woman was sitting on her chair. She felt a pang of jealousy in her stomach that soon it would be someone else’s favourite place to sit.

  ‘Ah, here is the owner now,’ said Mr. Clements as he saw Judith. ‘This is Ms. Parks.’

  ‘Judith Dillon,’ said Judith as she approached with outstretched hand and welcoming smile, then she froze as Chloe turned to look at her.

  ‘Oh, no. No, no, no,’ stuttered Chloe as she got up and backed away. Then realising that she was backing herself further into the alcove, she rushed past Judith and ran down the stairs.

  Mr. Clements and Judith stood at the window and watched the red Seat Ibiza screech away down the driveway.

  ‘I think we may have lost that sale, Ms. Dillon. Perhaps next time you will leave the selling to me?’

  Thursday 12th February 2009

  Judith posted her letter to HMRC requesting that they refund her overpayment. A few thousand pounds wasn’t going to solve everything but would be better than nothing. She laughed to herself that she now thought of it as hers. Walking back past her office to the car park, she saw Chloe locking up the shop and crossing the road at her normal place. She thought she would try to sort out the bad feeling once and for all and she ran across to join her walking down the lane.

  ‘Chloe, about Monday, you didn’t need to run away.’

  ‘Please leave me alone, Judith.’

  ‘I’ve obviously upset you and I’m sorry.’

  ‘I need to catch the train.’ She tried to pass Judith on the narrow lane but she stood in her way.

  ‘What have I done to upset you, Chloe?’

  She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. ‘I don’t know. I feel claustrophobic when you’re around, like you’re always watching me. Sorry. Let me past; I need to catch the train.’

  Judith stood aside so that Chloe could pass. She watched her walk down the lane, and then she turned into the car park. She could see through the sparse winter trees that Chloe had stopped to speak to someone else. She would have one more try. She stopped by the car
park entrance until she saw Chloe set off again, gave her time to cross the road into the station yard and then pulled out. Chloe turned and looked back at her, then walked more quickly towards the doorway to the station. Judith pulled into the station car park, jumped out of her car and followed Chloe through the ticket office towards the platform.

  Chloe looked over her shoulder a couple of times. Normally she would have headed straight for the waiting room, the one with the big, black marble fireplace. Even when it wasn’t lit, it seemed warmer than the other one. She didn’t want to be trapped in there today. Seeing Judith at the door, she hastened on. She glanced back over her shoulder again, then stumbled and tripped over her own feet and fell from the platform onto the tracks. A horn sounded as the goods train from Newcastle to Carlisle trundled through, sending a blast of cold air around the building. Then there was a screech of brakes and an alarm sounded. Station staff rushed to the line and waiting passengers stood and stared at the spot where Chloe had been moments before.

  Judith stood and watched the scene. It appeared to her that the world had suddenly become silent, a sort of calm before a storm or a picture frozen in time. She turned and walked back to her car where she sat for a few moments struggling to comprehend what she had just witnessed, then she switched on the engine. As she approached the exit from the station car park, she had to wait to allow the ambulance and two police cars through.

  Fifteen minutes later she was back at her flat. She looked at her favourite seat in the alcove and remembered Chloe sitting there just a few days ago. Red wine wasn’t going to be strong enough so with shaking hands she opened a bottle of whisky. She sat in front of the television and watched the local news report of a dreadful accident at the station.

  Friday 13th February 2009

  Judith decided that the only way she was going to cope with the day before was to apply herself to work. She had two people coming in for interviews and needed to read their CVs again; she couldn’t remember a thing about them. She arrived at the office early, tidied up and tried to concentrate. She was making notes to remind herself of what to ask when she heard the outside door open downstairs. She glanced at her watch. Nine-fifteen; nobody would be that early for an interview. She thought it was probably the postman.

  ‘Judith Dillon?’ asked a man wearing a suit that looked as though it had been slept in.

  As she nodded, he reached into his pocket and brought out an identity wallet. ‘Detective Inspector Gibson. I need to talk to you about Chloe Parks.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not convenient right now. I am expecting some people for interviews this morning. Shall I come to the police station later?’

  ‘I must ask you to come with me now. I am going to caution you. 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. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. I think you know she died last night at the railway station.’

  ‘Yes, I saw it on the news last night. It’s tragic but why am I being cautioned?’

  DI Gibson glanced over his shoulder at a woman who had appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘DS Doggart,’ he introduced her as she flashed her ID at Judith. ‘You saw it on the news? I understood that you were there, at the station when it happened.’

  ‘I must have been but I didn’t know then what had happened.’

  ‘We need to discuss this at the station. We need to ask you to make a statement and answer some questions.’

  ‘I’ll call in later.’

  ‘Now, please.’

  He signalled to DS Doggart who started walking around to where Judith sat. Judith glared at her, then sighed and stood up and put on her coat. She set the answering machine on the reception desk.

  ‘Can I call my applicants and tell them I’ll rearrange?’

  At the station it was all a lot less chatty. Judith was sitting in a small office with the two police officers who set up two voice recorders. DI Gibson cautioned her again.

  ‘Am I under arrest for something?’ Judith asked. ‘Can I call someone?’

  ‘No, you’re not under arrest but yes, if you would like to, you can call your solicitor.’

  She was going to say Fiona but thought that would send her over the edge even if it had been allowed; her family solicitor was already over the edge. ‘No, I don’t want to call anyone. Just carry on.’

  ‘I understand that you were friends with the deceased,’ started DI Gibson.

  ‘Yes, we’ve known each other since she opened her shop in September, Phoenix Antiques.’

  ‘Yes. How did you become friends? Or was your relationship purely professional?’

  ‘Well, mainly professional. I bought several items from her, but we have been to some of the same social occasions as well, the theatre and a concert.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Was that by arrangement?’

  ‘What do you mean, by arrangement?’

  ‘Did you arrange to go together or meet by chance?’

  ‘By chance at the concert. I can’t remember about the theatre.’

  ‘What about the auction rooms at Newcastle? Did you meet there by arrangement?’

  ‘Not exactly, no, but we knew each other was going. Why?’

  ‘Why were you there? You’re not an antiques dealer.’

  ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘Ms. Parks kept a diary.’

  DI Gibson stopped talking, and he and DS Doggart looked at Judith, watching for a reaction. She gave them none.

  ‘Did you know she kept a diary?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She wrote that she was feeling anxious; even a bit frightened.’

  ‘We all feel like that. The recession is affecting everyone around here. I would be surprised if she didn’t feel anxious especially after investing in her shop. You are surely not suggesting that she committed suicide?’

  ‘She wasn’t feeling anxious about business. She didn’t appear to have any money worries.’

  None of us appear to have money worries, thought Judith. ‘So what was she anxious about?’

  ‘Her relationship with you. She thought that you were following her. She used the word ‘claustrophobic’ quite a lot. Were you aware that she felt like that, about you, I mean?’

  ‘Certainly not; we get, got I mean, along very well. She invited me round for lunch on several occasions. She offered to bring a painting round to my flat to see how it would look. She came to look at my flat earlier in the week.’

  ‘So you don’t believe that she was afraid of you?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  The police officers started to ask similar questions in different ways, but Judith stuck to her story.

  ‘So, yesterday at the station. What were you doing there?’

  ‘I went there to offer Chloe a lift home. I was leaving at the same time as her. I often offered her a lift home to save her catching the train.’

  ‘Indeed. How many times did she accept your offer?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Indeed. Did you not think that strange behaviour for a friend? Do you know why she always refused?’

  ‘She preferred to catch the train, to have thinking time, she said.’

  ‘So you never went to where she lived.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK, so you went right into the station to offer her a lift that you knew she would probably refuse?’

  ‘Yes. Well, we had had words before Christmas and I wanted to clear the air. Actually I didn’t go right in, only as far as the door to the platform.’

  ‘Words? About what?’

  ‘I can’t remember. Just a silly thing. It could have been sorted out if only she hadn’t…’

  ‘If she hadn’t what? Thrown herself under a train?’
/>   ‘I thought she tripped and fell.’

  ‘Is that how it looked to you?’

  ‘I suppose so. I didn’t really see.’

  ‘Why did you run away after the incident?’

  It’s reduced to an incident now, is it? thought Judith. ‘I didn’t run away.’

  ‘You left without waiting to see the outcome. If you were such good friends, why didn’t you wait and see whether there was anything to be done?’

  ‘I saw the ambulance come and left the experts to it.’

  ‘You were leaving before the ambulance arrived.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Why didn’t you stay?’

  ‘It was obvious there was nothing for me to do.’

  They concluded by Judith giving her account of how Chloe tripped, in her opinion because she wasn’t looking where she was going and didn’t appear to know how close to the edge of the platform she was. Judith dutifully signed the cassette tapes to say that she had given permission for them to be made and they were sealed into a plastic bag. She was allowed to go.

  ‘Check the flat viewing,’ said DI Gibson to DS Doggart, ‘and recheck the diary entry that said that Chloe thought that Ms. Dillon followed her home.’

  ‘Shall I get Louise Holmes to come and give a statement today?’

  ‘No, leave her until tomorrow. She’s really upset and we have enough to be getting on with for now.’

  As Judith walked up the stairs to her office, she switched on her mobile phone. There were three messages from Fiona, two asking if it was Chloe who had been killed and one asking if it was true that Judith was at the police station. The message on the office phone was Louise, less intelligible through sobbing, but her meaning came through loud and clear.