Blue Murder

by Staincliffe, Cath

  ‘Lesley Tulley,’ she said briskly, ‘tell us about her.’

  ‘I don’t know her.’

  ‘Come on, Dean.’

  ‘Straight up, I don’t. I’d never seen her till I looked at the video.’

  ‘You live just round the corner,’ Richard pointed out, ‘handy for popping in when Mr Tulley’s at school?’

  He frowned and then balked at the insinuation. ‘No, no I never.’

  The solicitor intervened. ‘Mr Hendrix has answered your question, he does not know Lesley Tulley.’

  ‘Even though he’s carrying round a pornographic film with her in the starring role?’ Janine turned back to Dean, his arms were trembling slightly. His eyes bloodshot. ‘Let me tell you how I see it, Dean, then you can put me right. Mrs Tulley is a very attractive woman, perhaps she was lonely.’

  ‘I’ve got a girlfriend, I only go with her.’

  ‘What work do you do?’ Richard asked.

  The shift disconcerted him. He tucked his hair behind his ear, pulled on a strand.

  ‘Freelance.’

  ‘Freelance what?’

  ‘Odd jobs. Backstage at the Lowry now and then, GMEX. Bit of driving.’

  ‘Pay well?’ he continued.

  ‘Not really.’

  Richard studied him. ‘So it might be quite tempting if someone offered you a sizeable amount of money for your services.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’

  Janine leant forward. ‘Matthew Tulley was attacked with a knife and bled to death on Saturday. Where were you, Dean, when we came to call? Missing, in hiding. A witness saw you leaving the scene. Forensic evidence proves you were there too. A knife was found in your possession.’

  Richard glanced at her. Careful now. They knew Dean’s knife hadn’t been used on the victim, it was a flick knife. Janine brazened it out, didn’t hurt to let Dean think they had him every which way.

  ‘You can see how someone might think you were helping her out, perhaps getting rewarded for your pains. Maybe you’d watched all the videos? Strong stuff. Can be addictive, can’t it?’

  ‘That’s enough,’ said the solicitor, ‘these allegations …’

  ‘It wasn’t me, I didn’t kill him,’ Dean leaned forward, closer to Janine, his mouth stretching wide with emotion.

  ‘But you’ve done it before.’ Richard said.

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes. Bit of a fight, out comes the knife.’

  Dean was becoming more agitated. ‘It wasn’t the same!’

  ‘Virtually identical.’ Richard remained calm but insistent.

  ‘Not the same, not the same,’ the lad rocked back and forth. Tears started in his eyes. ‘You don’t know.’

  ‘Tell me Dean.’ Janine said. ‘You get a taste for it? Give you a buzz?’

  He gasped. ‘No, no!’ His breath was jerky, he kept rocking, his face wild. ‘Last time, last time …’

  ‘Last time what?’ She pressed him.

  ‘Last time, Williams–’ He couldn’t say it, he stared at Janine, on the brink.

  ‘He struggle more?’

  Dean broke. ‘He … raped … me!’ He drew it out like a howl of pain, face raised to the ceiling, the tendons in his neck standing out.

  Janine’s heart stuttered. The poor bloody lad. She put her face in her hands.

  Richard stopped the tape.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dean.’ Janine said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. We’ll get you a drink. You have a break.’

  She thought of Michael then, if ever he … if any of her kids had to carry that violation with them. Stop it. She pushed back her chair. Richard looked as shaken as she was. They all needed a break.

  They took fifteen minutes in Janine’s office.

  Janine sat with her feet up, her shoulders ached, she rubbed at them trying to release the tension. A good soak, that’s what she needed. Later, she promised herself.

  Richard was pacing about, still disturbed by Dean’s story. ‘Poor bastard.’

  ‘He never spoke about it, never even used it in his defence, there was nothing in any of the trial reports, simply got put down to a fight. Too ashamed. Deep down he probably blames himself. Something he said, something he did.’ She swung her feet down. ‘I reckon he’ll give us the real story once he’s calmed down. Deaking should be ready now. Shall we?’

  Mr Deaking sat rigidly upright his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He left the talking to his solicitor. ‘My client would like to make a statement. He admits to taking part in the sex sessions with Mrs Tulley, which were filmed by her husband, but he strenuously denies the charge of attempted murder. He was simply trying to find out if Mrs Tulley knew where the tape was.’

  ‘By choking the life out of her?’ Janine raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so.’

  *****

  The canteen was busy, coppers coming and going, banter between them and the staff serving. Janine and Richard had got a corner table. Janine, feeling depleted of energy, had gone for a hot meal: lamb hot-pot and braised red cabbage. Something to keep her reserves up for the ordeal ahead. Interviewing Lesley Tulley. Shap had joined them, avid for news about Deaking.

  ‘They’re always so normal, aren’t they, the Deakings of this world. All that respectability and a shed full of porn.’ Janine shook her head. ‘He buys a tape from one of his suppliers and who’s on it? Lesley, his deputy’s wife. But he doesn’t do anything yet – he waits until Tulley’s in trouble.’

  Shap listened, his eyes bright with curiosity.

  Richard picked up the story. ‘Tulley keeps his job after the assault on Ferdie Gibson because Deaking backs him to the hilt, in return for …’

  ‘… a piece of the action.’ Janine said.

  Shap fiddled with his lighter. ‘Was he really trying to kill her?’

  Janine shrugged. ‘He lost it. He was scared she’d talk, give us the tapes. She wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t take his calls. When Lesley said she didn’t know where the video was he didn’t believe her. Thought he could throttle it out of her.’ She put her empty plate on the tray. ‘Whatever he gets he’ll never pick up another piece of chalk again.’

  She drained her cup and grimaced at the rank taste. ‘They ought to add that to the dangerous substances register.’

  She stood up. Richard looked up. Got to his feet. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ She led the way.

  *****

  It was hard to banish the brutal video images from her mind as she sat opposite Lesley Tulley again.

  ‘Lesley, when we spoke earlier I asked you about this man. I am showing Mrs Tulley a photograph of Mr Ronald Prosser.’

  A rapid blink.

  ‘You denied knowing him.’

  ‘I don’t know him.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’ve never met him?’

  ‘No,’ she said curtly.

  ‘He’s just come out of prison. Serving time for drug offences but there were some lesser charges for pornography. That’s how Matthew knew him, isn’t it Lesley?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘And Mr Deaking. We know all about it now.’

  Lesley looked scared, her eyes rounder but she said nothing.

  ‘We’ve got this.’

  Janine glanced at Richard who slid the videotape in its evidence bag across the table and said. ‘I am showing Mrs Tulley a videocassette, item 439.’ Lesley sat unmoving.

  Janine spoke gently. ‘Lesley, we’ve watched the film.’

  ‘Films, videos,’ she tossed her head dismissively, ‘it’s crazy.’

  ‘It’s hard to watch. Unbearable. The violence. We know what Matthew made you do.’ She lowered her voice further, creating the intimacy she required. ‘What Mr Deaking did. It changes everything.’ She could sense the other woman fighting to resist the empathy, avoiding eye contact, one corner of her mouth twitching. ‘You can tell us now, Lesley.’

  ‘I haven’t got anything to say,’ quietly.

  ‘What about Dean Hendrix?’ Richard said.


  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘What about Dean Hendrix? How well do you know him?’

  ‘I don’t.’ She looked at Janine. ‘You said you’d arrested him.’

  ‘Dean is being very helpful.’ Richard said. ‘He gave us the tape.’

  Lesley looked blank.

  Janine spoke up. ‘Perhaps you needed a friend, someone to share your troubles with? Or a lover?’

  ‘No. I don’t even know who he is.’

  ‘The knife we recovered,’ said Richard, ‘the murder weapon, it turned up in town on Saturday morning.’

  She remained unspeaking.

  Janine sat back and regarded her. Began afresh. ‘I’ll tell you what I think happened. You followed Matthew to the allotments. You had the knife. You hurt him, badly.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘You went home. You’d blood on your hands, on your clothes–’

  ‘No, stop it, it’s not true, I loved Matthew.’ The solicitor signalled to Lesley to keep quiet.

  ‘You cleaned up, put your clothes in the machine.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You know we are searching your property now?’

  Her chin went up, she stared at Janine with defiance.

  ‘You took the knife with you and drove to town.

  You got hold of someone else’s parking ticket to try and give yourself an alibi.’

  Lesley opened her mouth; lies, her face said, outrage burning spots of colour on her cheeks. ‘It’s not true. I can’t explain the ticket. The clock on the machine–’

  ‘We have CCTV footage,’ Richard said flatly. ‘How did you get to the Triangle?’

  ‘Through Millennium Gardens.’

  ‘Did you leave anything in a litterbin in Millennium Gardens?’ he asked her.

  ‘A sandwich wrapper.’ She was indignant. ‘I didn’t kill Matthew. You can’t do this to me.’

  ‘Perhaps you had some help?’ Janine said. ‘Did Dean come with you to confront Matthew? Was he there in case you couldn’t go through with it? Or did you send Dean to get rid of the knife?’

  ‘This is completely crazy. I don’t know Dean,’ she shouted.

  ‘Perhaps Dean had seen the videos? Seen some of the terrible things you had to suffer.’

  Lesley covered her mouth with her hands. Tears splashed from her eyes.

  ‘How long had it been going on? Months? Years? Did Matthew make you watch the tapes with him?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do it. I didn’t.’ She collapsed, her shoulders heaving, her words drenched in tears.

  The solicitor leant forward to insist on a break but Janine pre-empted this by holding her hands up in surrender pose.

  *****

  When Janine went into her office she was startled to find The Lemon lurking there. He was standing at the far wall, looking out through the glass partition. ‘Your update?’

  ‘Yessir. I’m sorry, there have been a lot of developments–’

  ‘Which I expect to hear about from you, not from rumours flying round the office.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Gossip about serial killers and a drugs connection and the Tulley woman hiring an assassin. You nearly had her corpse on your hands too? And you’re digging up the garden at the house?’ His words laced with derision.

  ‘I’m confident that the search at the house will turn up the missing clothes. We’ve now got her involved in the production of pornographic material.’

  ‘Hardly a motive.’

  ‘Not just blue movies, sir. The woman is being tortured while her husband films it. Deaking, the Head, was an active player – he tried to silence Mrs Tulley.’

  He took this in. ‘And the serial offender – Dean Hendrix?’

  ‘I’m going back in to him now. He’s beginning to open up, sir. If he was in on it he’ll own up.’

  ‘If you don’t find these missing clothes then you’ve nothing, zero.’

  ‘The attempt to create an alibi–’

  ‘Circumstantial, Janine. CPS won’t wear it.’

  ‘Then I’ll get them to talk. Secure a confession.’

  He turned to face her, questioning her confidence.

  She smiled. She could do it. She knew she could. ‘Communication skills, sir. I’ve done the course.’

  The lad looked wasted, but he’d been offered drinks and he’d been seen by a doctor again. She didn’t want to end up accused of interviewing him under duress so she had taken the precaution. She decided to begin with her questions about the tape, seeing as Dean had been happy telling them about that.

  ‘You had prearranged to meet Matthew Tulley at his allotment. Did you usually meet there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You never went to the house?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you would take the tapes he gave you and bring back an edited version?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were there on Saturday morning,’ Richard said, ‘bringing him a completed tape.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you ever meet with Lesley Tulley?’ Janine said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you conspire to kill Matthew Tulley?’

  ‘You don’t have to be the one holding the knife to be charged with the crime,’ she told him. ‘Murder, Dean, it doesn’t get any heavier. And you are up to your neck in it. I’ve got you at the scene and you have previous form for an almost identical attack.’ She sat forward, spoke with intensity ‘You’ve got a porno film of the dead man’s wife and you do a runner. Now why shouldn’t I charge you with murder?’

  ‘Because he was already dead when I went there,’ he shouted in desperation.

  Janine let a long breath out. Yes, this she believed. Richard stretched his fingers. Dean had closed his eyes.

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Half-ten, near enough.’

  ‘How did you know he was dead?’

  ‘You just know, he wasn’t moving and there was blood on the ground. I tried to turn him, I saw, you know–’ he wiped his hands on his chest, his face anxious.

  ‘Where was he, exactly?’ Richard said.

  ‘He was lying, on his front, by the shed. Sort of half-in and half-out.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call us, Dean?’ Janine asked.

  ‘I freaked. It was like before. The same–’ Revulsion twisted his features. ‘People would fit me up for it, my record. You all thought it was me, well didn’t you?’

  ‘Your heading for the hills didn’t exactly help.’

  ‘Did you see anything else at the scene?’

  ‘No.

  ‘The knife?’ Richard checked.

  ‘Anyone in the vicinity? Think carefully,’ she said.

  He shook his head.

  ‘And you washed your hands – at the tap.’

  He nodded.

  Janine studied him, shook her head very slowly. If he’d only come to them then, told them. There was no trust, he had no faith in the forces of law and order. The dance he’d led them.

  ‘I think you’d better make a statement now, Dean. We’ll send someone in to write it down.’

  He put his head in his hands.

  ‘And don’t leave anything out.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Janine looked eagerly at Shap for news from the search but he shook his head.

  ‘No clothes yet. But they have found a hiding place in the fireplace in his study.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Empty.’

  Janine turned to Richard. ‘We haven’t enough to hold her.’

  ‘Send her home?’

  ‘One more shot, if we turn up something at Ashgrove,’ Janine said.

  ‘The solicitor’s asked for a longer break,’ Richard looked at his watch.

  They couldn’t go back into Lesley yet.

  Butchers came in, ‘It’s your son, boss.’

  Janine’s blood froze. ‘Tom?’ Oh, God, no. Please no. She felt giddy.

  ‘Michael. Downstairs.’

&
nbsp; When she got down to reception he was standing by the doors. ‘I’m locked out. Forgot my keys.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’

  ‘Review day.’

  She was in the middle of a murder enquiry and he’d forgotten his damn keys. She looked at him. Should she just give him hers and let him make his own way home? No, that wouldn’t be right. He was mixed-up, sending him off would add to the chip on his shoulder. ‘Timing!’ she chided him. ‘Come on.’ It’d only take her fifteen minutes if the traffic was good. They couldn’t see Lesley for another half-an-hour anyway. By then she hoped that they would have word from the search – some hidden clothes to confront her with.

  Michael was staring out of the side window. Saying nothing.

  ‘How was your review?’

  A shrug.

  ‘Mr Corkland said your work was suffering. You’re a bright boy, you’ve worked hard and now … these so-called mates, where’ve they sprung from?’

  ‘We have a laugh, that’s all.’

  ‘What? Stealing, pushing people about, sending nasty text messages. As a family we’ve tried …’

  ‘What family? You expect me to be like you, don’t you? Master Plod the policeman’s son. Know what my nickname is? The Bill. They all think I’m a grass because of you.’

  The strength of his outburst surprised her. She’d never imagined he got stick because of her job. But she wasn’t going to start feeling guilty about her work. ‘I’m proud of what I do, Michael. I’m not going to apologise for it.’

  ‘And you ram it down my throat all the time. It is so uncool.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, grow up. It pays the bills, it puts food on the table–’

  He turned, about to challenge that claim.

  ‘Takeaways! Whatever! People kill, I catch them. I don’t care how deeply uncool it might be, it’s a bloody important job.’

  ‘And it’s all you care about.’

  That cut her to the quick. She pulled in to the side of the road and stopped the car. ‘That’s not true. I care about you. I want you to be safe. I want you be happy.’ She struggled, feeling her chest tighten and not wanting to get upset in front of him. ‘You’re not a bully, Michael; I know you’re not. I can’t bear …’ Tears sprang into her eyes. She sniffed them away. Cleared her throat. ‘What made you do it?’