by A. J. Cross
After a tense few seconds, she sat. Judd reached out, turned over the first sheet, pointed, then pointed to the second. ‘This is a copy of a receipt dated January last year, bearing a description of those earrings and that Mr Engar paid for them with his credit card. He has confirmed that you and he began an intimate relationship very shortly after, that you wanted to end your marriage and were pressing him to make the relationship formal between the two of you, which he declined to do.’
They watched Lawrence’s eyes move over the printed words, watched their relevance sink in. She pushed the sheets away. ‘What’s written here is what he was hoping for. What he wanted. Why would I want a man in his fifties when I had Mike?’ She reached for the sheets, crumpled them in both hands, threw them to the floor. ‘It’s ridiculous. As ridiculous as me supposedly shooting myself.’
‘Our in-house pathologist, Dr Chong, has revised her opinion on your injuries.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘And the hospital pathologist has re-evaluated them, particularly the close proximity of the entry and exit wounds and the angle of the bullet. He agrees with Dr Chong. He is willing to state that your injuries could have been self-inflicted.’
Lawrence gave a mocking smile. ‘“Could have”. Any lawyer would drive a tank through that kind of prevarication.’
‘Mrs Lawrence, I have one last matter which I need to raise with you. It is not connected to your husband’s murder, but this investigation is now regarding it as of interest and likely to form part of the case against you. This is a copy of the coroner’s report on the death of your sister ten years ago’ – Lawrence’s eyes darkened – ‘which gives an “open” verdict.’ Judd slid it across the table. ‘You’re welcome to read it. You’ll see that it’s very clear that foul play could not be ruled out. Do you have a response?’
‘No. I’m just enjoying this farce! Seeing how far you’re willing to go.’
‘Mrs Lawrence, we’ve examined the timing of events of the evening your husband was shot. We’ve spoken to residents local to where it occurred.’ Judd sat forward. ‘According to our information, those shots were fired prior to ten p.m. At around nine thirty, to be exact.’ She paused. ‘You delayed your emergency call until ten thirty-five so that you could be as certain as possible that your husband was at the very least incapable of communicating with any help that would arrive. You need to properly engage with the information I’ve shown you, rather than dismissing it.’ She instinctively sat back as Molly Lawrence’s face came towards hers.
‘Why should I care what you have?’ Her eyes slid over Judd. ‘You, with your boring suit and your ghastly hair. I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say.’ She sat back and folded her arms, her eyes fixed on Watts. ‘I don’t care for the way I’m being questioned, nor your colleague’s accusatory attitude towards me. She’s taking so-called evidence at face value, believing what other people say. She’s not listening to me. I demand legal representation. Get it for me, now.’
‘It’s going to take a while.’
‘So? Arrange it!’
Getting an almost imperceptible nod from Watts, Judd reached for the recording machine. ‘This interview is concluded at …’ She added the time.
They both stood and went to the door. Watts signalled to an officer who came inside and led Molly Lawrence from the room.
They walked into the observation room where Traynor was waiting. Watts headed to the water cooler, filled a paper cup and drank. It was a while before he broke the heavy silence. ‘She knows all we’ve got on her, she’s got no plausible explanation for any of it and now she’s decided she wants representation.’ He dropped the cup into the waste basket. ‘Mad as it sounds, I think she’s actually enjoying the attention.’
‘She is,’ said Traynor. ‘Just as she enjoyed the attention of the re-enactment. She also loves the game playing involved. And she’ll want something from you.’
Watts looked across at Traynor. ‘Like, what?’
‘She’ll want to make some kind of deal.’
‘A deal?’ They both stared at him, Watts searching for words. ‘We know what she’s done. She knows we know!’ To Judd, he said, ‘As soon as the duty solicitor arrives, we’re in there to formally arrest her.’
‘You need to understand that Molly Lawrence is her own creation. She doesn’t reflect on her actions. Pushed into a corner, she merely blames others.’
Watts huffed. ‘She’s facing a long prison sentence, which will give her plenty of time to “reflect”.’
Traynor shook his head. ‘She will never accept personal responsibility for what she’s done.’
‘She’s got no option,’ snapped Watts.
‘She thinks she has. Everything is possible as far as she is concerned. When her representation arrives, she’ll tell him or her what it is that she wants.’
‘Which is what, exactly?’
‘An admission of guilt in exchange for a special hospital sentence.’
Judd’s mouth fell open. Watts stared at him. ‘In her dreams. That’s a court decision.’ He paused. ‘What’s the payoff of special hospital for her?’
‘An opportunity to manipulate everybody, including staff, maybe get out.’
‘Wherever she serves her sentence, that won’t happen for years and I’ll be at every parole hearing to make sure she stays put.’
‘I doubt her plans involve legitimate release.’
‘You’re saying she’s an escape risk?’
‘She’s devious, highly manipulative, so, yes.’
Their heads came up at raised voices coming from nearby. Watts headed for the door, opened it, the voices growing louder.
Jones was there, pointing upstairs to the interview room. ‘Duty solicitor has arrived, Sarge.’
‘So, I hear.’ He looked at Judd. ‘Do you want me to take over?’
‘No.’
They came into the room where the duty solicitor was sitting, face flushed, his eyes fixed on Lawrence. He looked up at them. ‘Beyond informing me that she might consider an admission of guilt in exchange for a specific disposal of her case, Mrs Lawrence is refusing to talk to me—’
‘Don’t speak about me as if I’m not here!’ she snapped. ‘Who the hell do you think you are!’
Judd placed papers on the desk and reached for the recording machine. She and Watts sat. ‘That isn’t how the system works, Mrs Lawrence. It’s for the court to recommend disposition. You can’t just demand it.’
The solicitor sent Judd a weary look. ‘I’ve already told her.’
Lawrence turned her blue eyes onto Watts. ‘Tell them both to leave. I want to talk to you.’
Judd placed her hand on the papers. ‘Mrs Lawrence, I’m leading this interview. The evidence we have here indicates that you murdered your husband.’
Lawrence’s eyes remained on Watts as Judd continued.
‘What you’re saying is that you want control over the outcome of the case against you. That’s not going to happen.’ She paused. ‘But some indication of a willingness to cooperate with this process might help you in the long term.’ She watched Lawrence’s face break into a smile, her eyes still on Watts.
‘She thinks she’s good, that she’s got this case by the tail.’ She turned her face to Judd, the smile switching off. ‘But not good enough.’ She sighed then shook her head, her attention diverting to her cuticles.
‘Mrs Lawrence, you can’t dismiss evidence …’
Lawrence yawned. ‘Yes, I can. I was there. It was Brendan who killed Mike and shot me. There’s nothing else to say.’
Judd glanced at Watts, then: ‘We know about the life insurance on you and your husband.’
‘So what? Most professional people have life insurance.’
‘Not for almost a million pounds.’ Judd looked at her. ‘One of the worst aspects of what happened that night in Forge Street is that your husband believed he was there solely to help his brother out of a financial problem. He had no idea that he wa
s about to become a victim. Your victim.’
The blue eyes settled on Judd’s face. Lawrence yawned widely and blinked, her mouth set.
‘You’re being uncooperative, Mrs Lawrence. Let’s move to a different issue. Tell me about your sister.’ Judd hadn’t anticipated a reaction from the woman sitting opposite her. She didn’t get one. ‘You were there when she died. What happened?’
‘I don’t want to talk about that.’
Judd stared across at her, weighing up what she was about to say. ‘It might eventually get you what you want.’
The cuticles were now getting more attention. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘What happened?’ repeated Judd.
‘We went swimming. In the sea.’
‘A risky place for two young girls. Whose idea was that?’
‘My sister was a strong swimmer.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘What happened?’
‘She got into difficulties. I tried to save her.’
Judd slow-nodded, willing to bet that, while she could feel her own heart thudding, the same wasn’t happening inside the woman sitting opposite. ‘Did you get on with your sister?’
Lawrence looked at her and laughed. ‘You are so transparent. She was a pain in the bum, if you want to know, but that was OK because she was leaving to go down to London to stay with one of our aunts so she could go to ballet school.’ Judd heard the exaggerated delivery of ‘bal-leigh’.
‘Envious, were you?’
‘Oh, please. I was glad. At least, with her out of the way, I didn’t have to listen to the bloody music, watch her prancing around, listen to Mum and Dad going on about how talented she was.’ She looked directly at Judd and grinned. ‘I meant “out of the way”, as in London.’
‘According to the coroner’s report, your sister had a deep gash on her head.’
‘So?’
‘How did she get that?’
The blue eyes widened. ‘How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe she struck her head on something as she sank slowly beneath the waves.’ A pin dropping to the floor would have been louder than the silence in the room. The duty solicitor was staring at her, his mouth open.
Judd said, ‘Going back to the murder of your husband—’
Lawrence raised both arms and stretched. Folding them, she gazed ahead, unblinking. ‘I’m bored. I’ve had enough of all this talking. I did it. So what?’
Watts’ pen stilled. Judd stared at her, momentarily outflanked. ‘When you say that you did it—’
‘For Christ’s sake, what’s the matter with you people! Do you want me to spell it out?’
‘Yes. Are you admitting that you shot your husband, or that you killed your sister? Or both?’
‘My husband. That’s it. End of topic.’
‘It isn’t. You need to tell us why you shot him.’
Lawrence’s half-closed eyes slid over Judd’s face. ‘What do you know about anything?’ She sighed, tilted back her head, then gazed at the ceiling. ‘Mike was boring. No drive, you see. No ambition. Happy to just go along, doing whatever he had to do at work, then come home to paint the house, plan the nursery, talk non-stop about the baby, going on and on and bloody on.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It wasn’t what I wanted.’
‘And the only way out that you could see was to kill him and claim the life insurance.’
The blue eyes were back on Judd. ‘You’re making some big drama out of this. I wanted out. Out of the marriage, out of being a mother, but I wasn’t leaving good old, sensible, responsible Mike empty-handed. I wanted that pay-out.’ She laughed. ‘In fact, the only interesting thing he ever did was agree to help Brendan out of his financial hole!’ She shook her head.
‘I went online, got the facts on shooting at the right angle to avoid seriously damaging myself, but hopefully ending the pregnancy. I told Mike that something was wrong with the car and sat in the back with the gun. I knew Brendan would arrive shortly.’
The duty solicitor was now looking as though he needed some air.
She looked from Judd to Watts and back. ‘You two need to lighten up. It added realism to Mike’s shooting and put me in the clear as a second victim. It almost worked.’
‘And your sister? Did you kill her?’
She grinned. ‘No comment.’ Then she sat back. ‘I’ve got nothing else to say.’
A couple of hours later, they were in Watts’ office. ‘How were you so sure she was after a special hospital place?’ he asked.
Traynor shrugged. ‘From experience. I’ve met individuals like her over the years, not all of them female. Her tragic situation when I first met her made me slower than I might have been to identify her extreme personality problems.’
‘We all bought into it,’ said Judd. ‘Now we have her admission to killing her husband, plus the strong likelihood that she murdered her sister, it looks like she might get the sentence she wants.’
Watts shook his head ‘What I want is her banged up in general population.’ He looked at Traynor. ‘What’s your thinking?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she has a 360-degree change of stance in the weeks to come and claims to having been coerced into confessing to Mike Lawrence’s murder.’
Judd stared at him, looked at Watts. ‘She can’t. It’s all recorded.’
‘I’m merely flagging up her possible stance. People like Molly Lawrence view truth and rules as applying only to others.’
‘If you want my opinion, she’s ten stops past Barking—’ The phone rang. Watts reached for it. ‘Yeah?’ He nodded. ‘Thanks for chasing that down, Leila.’ He ended the call. ‘Jonah Budd’s probation officer. He was arrested earlier today for the November carjacking series and possession of a replica gun.’ He turned to Traynor who was lifting his backpack. ‘Thanks, Will.’
‘What for?’
‘Your insights on this whole case, on Molly Lawrence. For helping us identify what she really is. We appreciate it.’
He and Traynor walked from the office together. Traynor continued downstairs, turned and raised his hand.
Judd was suddenly at Watts’ side. ‘Will, wait. I’ve just taken a call from Gemma Lawrence about the dog. She doesn’t want him. She says to take him somewhere and get him rehomed. I told her to put it in writing.’
Traynor grinned up at them. ‘Not a problem. He’s been mine since the day we found him.’
They watched him go, then walked slowly down the stairs. ‘I don’t know about you, Judd, but I feel sorry for Mike Lawrence’s family. And Mrs Monroe.’
‘Families,’ said Judd, with a quick headshake.
They walked on. She looked up at him. ‘What’s the smile for?’
‘Seeing you in that interview room has reminded me of your first week here.’
She grinned. ‘You told me to go and get details on a suspect called Robin Banks.’
‘And you were back in less than ten seconds, saying you couldn’t find anything but would a Robin Bastard help?’ He stopped, looked down at her. ‘You drive me nuts sometimes, but I’ve never doubted how sharp you are. The work you did today was faultless.’ She glanced up at him, then away. They walked on.
‘Well done, kid.’
She rolled her eyes. He nudged her. She tutted. He nudged her again. She looked up at him and smiled. Seeing the young officer on duty, he diverted to reception. ‘Reynolds!’
Watching, Judd murmured, ‘God, what’s he done or not done, now?’
Watts reached the desk. ‘Relax, son. I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about the information you got from your visit to Molly Lawrence’s office.’ He pointed his thick forefinger at him. ‘It was first-rate. It’s now part of the evidence we’ve got on her.’
‘What did he get?’ asked Judd as they walked away from a glowing Reynolds.
‘Some very useful office tittle-tattle. Molly Lawrence was in the habit of receiving calls from what Reynold’s informant there described as her “fancy man”. It seems that
informant took it on herself to check the phone number.’ He nodded. ‘That’s right. Engar.’
A brief silence grew between them. Judd asked, ‘Have you seen Julian?’
‘At around seven this morning. He’s probably back in Manchester by now. He left while we were tied up with the Lawrence interviews.’
Judd looked miffed. ‘He just went while I was beating my brains out, doing my job?’
‘Afraid so. All part of being a career woman—’
‘Careerist.’
‘He said to tell you that he’d ring you.’
‘That’s up to him.’
THIRTY-THREE
Mid-April
Watts had been up since six a.m., drafting a letter for Brophy. He was giving it a final read when his phone rang. It was Traynor. ‘I rang headquarters and was told you’re on leave.’
‘Yes, working on my first step to getting a life away from the job.’ There was a brief silence.
‘I see. Have you seen the email from the Crown Prosecution Service?’
Watts’ pen was tracking the draft. ‘Which email is this?’
‘Molly Lawrence is demanding a move.’
The pen stopped halfway through deleting a word. Details of the Lawrence trial weeks before flooded his head. Brendan Lawrence had offered a guilty plea to a charge of obstructing a police investigation, plus his part in the events which had led to his brother’s death, for which he was eventually given five years. Against the advice of her defence lawyer, Molly Lawrence had given evidence, presenting herself in court as wronged, misjudged and badly used. In short, everybody’s victim. The jury hadn’t bought it. The judge had given her life in prison for the murder of Michael Lawrence and ruled that the death of her sister should remain open on the case file.
Watts recalled his heart sinking when he heard the judge’s words. He’d been hoping for an indeterminate sentence. As the situation now stood, she could be out in fifteen years, depending on what a parole board was told about her, how slick she was at presenting herself and her case to them.
‘No chance! She’s only done a couple of months.’