Tell the girls, I loved you all. Goodbye. Dafyd
'That was in the police file into your husband's suicide. It was an open-and-shut job; the Fiscal closed the case without a Fatal Accident Inquiry. And that note; that was all you knew at the time, wasn't it?'
She shook her head, violently, looking away from him. 'No. I knew about Dafyd's affair all along. I realised not long after I married him that he had this thing in him, and I feared that one day it would have to express itself. But that didn't stop me from loving him with all my heart. He was my whole life and, for most of the time, the girls and I were his. He would never have left us, and if he and Ronald hadn't been betrayed, I would have gone on turning a blind eye.'
'How did you know?'
'There were signs. He made love to me in different ways for one thing. There were vague trips to weekend conferences. Also, if your husband never wears aftershave but comes in smelling of someone else's, you tend to notice, and wonder.'
'Did you know who the man was?'
'Not at that time, no. I didn't want to know, for I bore him no malice, none at all; nor do I now. He was helping Dafyd be himself, and it didn't make him any less loving towards me; at least that's how I've always seen it.'
'But when Spike told you the whole truth, that made it all different, didn't it?'
'Oh yes,' she hissed once more. 'When he told me about that vicious, cruel, twisted man, and that miserable little weasel, Shearer, who betrayed Dafyd and Ronald… that made it very different.
'They killed him, between them; they put him through such mental torture. It was as if they had strapped him into that car and turned on the engine.' She paused. 'Does Spike know what I did?'
Martin made a slight, dismissive gesture. 'No. He never suspected a thing. Even now, I don't think he understands. But he did admit to me that he had told you what Howard Shearer — the Diddler, they called him — confessed to him, one night, with an extremely guilty conscience.
'He told me, as he had told you, that the Diddler was an inveterate gossip; he knew it, but couldn't help himself.
'That one Thursday night after a football gathering, he told Alec Smith that his partner, Ronald Johnston-White, was gay and was having an affair with a gynaecologist called Dafyd Lewis.
'That later, he learned from Johnston-White that Smith had a pathological hatred of homosexuals. That he had approached your husband and told him that he was not going to tolerate a — his words — queer gynaecologist, and that if he did not resign his hospital position and leave Edinburgh, some very nasty career-ending stories about him and Johnston-White and you, would appear in the tabloids.'
The policeman looked almost despairingly, into the woman's iron-hard face. 'Diddler was totally conscience-stricken, you know, when he learned of the consequences of that single indiscreet remark to Smith. He had to confide in someone. He chose, from the Thursday night crowd, his oldest and closest friend, Spike Thomson.
'And four years on, Spike, poor bugger that he is, met you. When he realised who you were, he felt that he had to tell you the whole story.'
She nodded. 'Very good. Is that as far as you've got?'
He laughed, bitterly. 'Hell no; though I wish it was. No, Juliet, I've got all of it… although this next part is guesswork. I think you knew Alec Smith. Remember, you told me that you'd been out in the field, through your job? I think, that like all crazies, you dropped me a little hint there. Not as outrageous as the one with the parrot, but a hint nonetheless. I think that you met him then and that, when you needed to, you were able to find out where he had gone, after he left the force to pursue his own lunacy.
'Alec's phone records show that he had a call on the evening he died, from a public phone-box in Edinburgh. I think that call came from you, and that you made an appointment to see him on some pretext or other; job-related research, maybe.
'I think he let you in. Maybe he even did say, "Hello, Juliet". Maybe old Hererro there did mimic him. Maybe he turned to put the blue velvet drape — the one that we found left in the room — over his cage, and maybe that was when you shot him in the back with the tranquilliser gun which your kid had borrowed from the zoo.
'How much of that have I got right? he asked, conversationally.
'All of it,' she whispered, her eyes fixed on him. 'Clever boy.'
'I sure am, just a bit slow, that's all. Anyway, after that, the carnage began. You stripped him, tied him, taped over his gob, then strung him up like a beast for slaughter, all while he was still helpless from the shot. Then you went downstairs, selected a wrench from the cellar and one of Alec's two blowlamps — I don't understand why he bought two from B amp;Q on the same day, but he did — plus a knife from the kitchen, as your instruments of torture, and went to work.
'As a touch of flair, to show everyone how clever you were, you found his video camera and left us a horror movie of yourself at work.'
'Yes,' Juliet Lewis murmured. 'I only wish I'd been able to play it back.'
It made Martin shudder, just to look at her. 'You know,' he continued, 'I might have put you down as a poor sad woman who had been driven mad by what was done to her husband, but for one thing — the fact that you chose to involve Margot. I have to believe you knew she was going to kill the Diddler.' She frowned, a little surprised. 'I know it was her. I took a sample of Rhian's pubic hair from my laundry and had a comparison done with a hair we found on Shearer's body. It showed a close resemblance, a family resemblance.
'Yes, Juliet, involving the kid makes you a real nutter in my book.'
She seemed to flare at him. 'I did not involve her. Margot insisted; when I told her what Spike had told me, and that I planned to take revenge for her father. She insisted; I couldn't have stopped her if I'd tried. The tranquilliser gun was her idea. The plan for killing Shearer was hers. I didn't know she actually had sex with him, though.'
'Did you know what she did to Luke Heard?'
She looked at him, genuinely surprised. 'Who?'
'Sophie's father; her lover's father; he told me the story tonight. Luke found out about them, and tried to split them up. He was in way over his head, though. Margot knew from Sophie that Howard Shearer was Heard's Private Enemy Number One. She fed him an idea; she would pick up Shearer in his after-hours pub, lure him into a honey-trap, tie him up and take compromising pictures of the two of them together. He went for it; even agreed to pay her. So Margot did all that; only as you, and she if you say so, had planned, instead of taking bed-time snap-shots she cut some bits off him with the rose pruners, sliced him a bit more, then battered him to a jelly with his son's baseball bat.'
He laughed bitterly. 'Bloody obvious now. When Margot saw the body under the Belford Bridge. She didn't scream out of shock, but out of fright. She thought that it would have been long gone out to sea by then.' Her reaction told him that he had hit the mark again.
'You know, Heard shit himself when he came back from KL,' he continued, 'and found that Shearer was dead, not all over the Sun as he thought he would have been. He met Margot; we tailed him. She told him that from now on it would be business as usual for her and Sophie
… or else… having already called the girl on her mobile and told her to jump her ship and come home.'
He nodded. 'Yeah. If you tell me that Margot insisted on being involved, I don't have any trouble believing you.' Then he paused.
'But as for Rhian… that really hurts. Why did she try to kill Bob Skinner? Did she insist too?'
Juliet's voice was almost a snarl. 'No. We did; Margot and I. We told her that she had to play her part. We told her we'd kill you if she didn't.' it might not have been that easy,' he murmured. 'But why, for God's sake? Why kill Bob?'
The eyes flared again, wildly. 'Because he had to be the one behind it. Smith reported to him; he must have known. He must have given the go-ahead.'
'Ahh. You are so wrong, woman,' Martin shouted at her. 'Bob had no idea of what Smith was up to. Alec was as crazy as you. He was on a one-man cru
sade to avenge his son's death from AIDS. That's why he did what he did. If the Big Man had known about it, he'd have had him sectioned; put away in a Laughing Academy somewhere.
'Alec was so worried about Bob finding out that he made up a story about a knee injury, so he didn't have to face him at their Thursday night football get-together. Then, he was so intent on his campaign, he left the force, to pursue it full-time.
'Bob was completely in the dark about him.'
She gazed at him and decided to believe him. 'You say? Well, no matter, Rhian didn't kill him.'
‘It isn't no matter to him, I promise you. It won't be no matter to Spike either, when he learns that she used his car. He told me that she drove him to the studio on Sunday, then picked him up afterwards.
'You've used that poor innocent guy, haven't you?'
'Only out of necessity; I really am very fond of him, you know. As was Rhian, of you.'
She sighed, with a hint of sadness. 'So, clever Andy. What happens now?'
Martin was about to tell her, when he heard a sound from behind. He turned and saw Margot, wild-eyed, a big kitchen knife clasped in both hands, running at him across the room. Adroitly, he avoided her lunge, and hit her a big, back-handed blow on the side of the head, sending her sprawling on the floor.
'Don't even think about getting up, girl,' he warned her. 'Don't even think about it.'
He looked back at Juliet. 'We'll pick you up in the morning,' he told her, 'when we're ready for you. Don't try to do a runner. You're all effectively under arrest now; the place is under surveillance, front and back.
'Margot's done; that's for sure. So's Rhian; we will find damage and fibres on Spike's car. You may doubt that, but our man Arthur Dorward will, if I know him.
'As for you? Yes, I think I have a strong enough circumstantial case against you. As for me? I'm going to grab a few hours well-earned rest. You have the same few hours to do some thinking… and packing. We'll be here for you early.'
He turned, trotted downstairs, and hurried back into his own house, to Karen. Back to sanity.
73
It was just after three a.m. when he slipped silently into the moonlit bedroom. The window was open slightly and a draught of air was wafting the curtain gently, in and out, in and out, yet the room was still oppressively warm. Karen was sleeping on her back; she was naked, half-covered by a single sheet, having thrown or kicked the duvet to the floor.
As he undressed, he smiled at her, at the woman who had saved his life, and who had enriched it since with her unconditional love, bringing him a kind of tranquillity which he had never imagined before, yet for which, he knew now, he had been searching through all of his adult days.
He slipped under the sheet beside her, trying not to touch her, not to waken her. He felt a desperate need to look at her in the night light, to savour the statuesque lines of her body, to imprint the perfection of her profile in his mind for ever. And he needed something else too; he needed her once more as a shield, to force away the horrors of the last few hours, as long shots and far-out suppositions had turned into terrible, chilling certainty, as he had finally seized the separate strands of the multiple investigations and woven them into the blackest cloak of truth.
From somewhere in the sleeping Village outside came a muffled sound, as a car engine barked into life, then settled into a steady ticking-over throb. But nothing could have broken into his reverie as he lay there, imagining the life that he and Mrs Karen Martin would have together.
'Well?' she whispered softly. She had not moved, and he wondered for how long she had been awake. 'Do you look like a right bloody idiot?' She turned her face towards him on the pillow, smiling, gently. 'Or did you live up to the bullshit you fed Spike Thomson?'
She saw his grin, and through it to the trauma which lay behind it. 'Andy…' she said, sitting up, anxious now.
'Yeah,' he said, slowly, laying a hand on her thigh, his eyes softening, beginning to lose their haunted look. 'We are the true forensic scientist, you and I… We are, together at least, the great detective… We have, when we need it most, the magic ingredient…'
'You got a result, then?'
'Oh yes, I know who slaughtered Alec Smith, and I know who diddled the Diddler, and I know who tried to kill Bob… and I know why.'
She was wide awake now, intent. 'Well? Who?' she demanded.
His smile widened further. His eyes shone in the dark. 'The answer's downstairs,' he told her. 'In my briefcase, in our living room.
'Go on,' he challenged her, mischievously. 'Work it out for yourself.'
Epilogue
They were found next morning. Mother and daughters, in the back seat of the Vauxhall, in the garage, holding hands, their faces suffused and pink from the carbon monoxide asphyxia. There was no note, or at least…
Dean Village Tragedy by Paul Blacklock Evening News City Reporter
'There was no note found,' reported Detective Chief Superintendent Andy Martin, the tragic trio's next-door neighbour, who raised the alarm and was first into the neat, terraced house, nestling beside the gentle Water of Leith.
Mr Martin refused to speculate on what might have prompted the Lewis family's triple suicide. 'They were very good friends,' he commented at the scene, deeply affected by his discovery.
'I know that Juliet never really got over the death of her husband,' said Forth AM presenter, Spike Thomson, a close friend of Mrs Lewis. 'I am devastated.'
There was no note.
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Thursday legends bs-10 Page 29