Mason said, ‘And I’d like to start treating her for the depression.’
‘I wouldn’t be able to do anything for some time…’ Hall paused, forcing the admission. ‘Perhaps never.’
‘What if both of you fail?’ demanded an unimpressed Cox.
It was the psychiatrist who answered. ‘Then she’ll probably kill herself. Which maybe she should be allowed to do before Jane makes her kill someone else even if she isn’t allowed to get near Emily.’
Jennifer was wearing a track suit, too, grey against Hall’s deep blue. Her hair was combed but her face was devoid of make-up, shiny and sallow. There was a hollowness to her cheeks Hall hadn’t noticed before and her eyes, still black-ringed, were red-rimmed, too: incredibly, startling him, it actually made Jennifer look ghost-like. She looked up disinterestedly through glassy eyes at their entrance. The animation was brief, with her first demand. ‘Is Emily safe? Hidden?’
‘Absolutely,’ promised Hall. ‘No-one can get to her.’
‘ Wanna bet. ’
It seemed an instinctive movement for Jennifer to reach out for Hall’s hand. Unquestioningly – almost just as instinctively – he took it. Her skin was clammy but at the same time cold, feverish. She said, ‘I saw what was happening at the hospital.’
Hall located the television, close to the window, louvred doors enclosing the screen. It was a huge suite, by comparison to the wards she had been in. The furniture was predominantly comfortable, appeal-to-everyone modern, with a few pieces – a side-table and a bureau – that could have been antique and from the cost of the clinic probably were. There was a profusion of flowers, mostly roses and lilies, in the sitting-room in which they were and more in what he was able to see through the open door of the bedroom. ‘You’re out of it now.’
‘When we were getting out Jane said they would have torn me apart if they’d got to me,’ reminded Jennifer. ‘Would they have, really?’
‘ You betcha! ’
‘It didn’t happen,’ said Mason, placating. ‘They didn’t get the chance and you don’t need to think about what didn’t happen.’
‘ What’s going to happen from now on? ’
‘But would they have done?’ insisted Jennifer.
‘It was an uncontrollable mob,’ said Mason. ‘They might have tried to hurt you. Others would have wanted to worship you.’
‘ Don’t I always tell you the truth! Remember the slogan: you heard it here first. ’
Hall frowned at the psychiatrist’s directness and at the fear that shuddered through Jennifer, making her hand tremble. Forcefully he said, ‘The past is just that, past. We’re planning a future now. We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
‘ Let’s hear it, big boy! ’
‘She’s talking to me all the time. Mocking, as usual.’
‘And I want to talk to her. Like I did last night. But not immediately…’ He indicated the psychiatrist. ‘Dr Mason wants to try to help get rid of Jane-’
‘ Don’t waste your time! What’s lover boy want with me? ’
‘She says don’t waste your time,’ said Jennifer, stopping short of repeating the entire remark.
Hall ignored the interruption. ‘I know we talked about it and you don’t believe in any God, but he wants you to try exorcism…’
‘… There’s a chapel here. A visiting priest: rather high Church of England. He’ll try to help,’ picked up Mason. ‘It doesn’t matter that you don’t believe. And I want us to spend a lot of time together, on other things. You’re giving up. You mustn’t give up. I want to stop you thinking like that…’
‘I don’t know how to think any more. Too tired.’
‘ I won! I’m in charge.’
‘No, you’re not too tired. Not really. Just for the moment. We’re going to get you better.’
‘ I’ve never felt better.’
‘How can I be got better?’
‘By letting me help you. By letting us all help you,’ insisted the psychiatrist. He looked pointedly towards the lawyer.
‘Dr Mason has helped us a lot already,’ responded Hall. ‘Not just last night. Before. He wants to treat you – help rid you of Jane – but he also wants to write a clinical report on it. A technical paper that other psychiatrists and psychologists can read and learn from…’
‘ Freaky, freaky, freaky! ’
Jennifer gave a weary sigh. ‘There was a discussion about books on television.’
‘This isn’t – won’t be – a book,’ stressed Mason, urgently. ‘It will be a technical account of everything that’s happened. Not sensational at all.’
Jennifer gave another sigh. ‘Why not?’
In his urgency Mason had been leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Now he eased back, smiling.
‘ And he’s got his piece of flesh. You’re going to make a lot of people rich, Jennifer.’
‘There’s another reason you don’t feel well,’ said Cox, involving himself. ‘Your body’s full of chemicals. I’m going to wash them all out. Make your body clean as well as fit again.’
Hall was glad it was better expressed than before. Breathing in, preparing himself, he said, ‘And now it’s time to talk to Jane again. Like I did last night. Just me and Jane, her words coming out of your mouth, exactly as she says them.’
‘ Got you by the halls, scumbag, before you start! ’
‘You can’t read my mind, just Jennifer’s. So how do you know what I’m going to do?’
‘ Don’t need to know what you’re going to do.’
‘Oh, you do. Otherwise you’ll never prove a lot of things.’
‘ Don’t need to prove a lot of things! ’
‘Didn’t prove that anyone murdered you, did you?’
‘ So what? I’m getting my revenge. He’s dead. She’s a freak.’
‘You saw the television this morning?’ demanded Hall, as the recollection – and the opening it offered – came to him.
‘ What about it?
‘Hear what they were calling you: what the papers were saying? Homicidal maniac, on the channel I watched. That true Jane? You a maniac… a homicidal maniac? People can understand a wife driven to despair by a cheating husband: sympathize, even. But not someone who kills for fun. That’s what they’re calling you. A maniac who kills for fun…’
Jane’s rage began shaking through Jennifer and her hand slipped from Hall’s. She snatched out for it again.
‘ Not mad! Jennifer’s going to be mad but not me. The bastard deserved to die. Murdered me so he had to die: eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. That’s the rule.’
‘You don’t know that,’ challenged Hall. ‘You know he was cheating on you, with Jennifer. Like he was cheating on Jennifer with Rebecca. But you can’t prove he murdered you…’
‘ He doubled – trebled – my insulin! I’d been self-administering since I was a kid old enough to hold a syringe. I knew my dosages. I never, never, never overdosed.’
Mason was sitting back, familiar with the scene although professionally intent on every word, but Cox was open mouthed, the hooded eyes appearing wider than normal. There was an unlit pipe cupped between his hands, like a comfort symbol or a talisman. It didn’t have a decorative bowl, like those Johnson preferred.
‘“He doubled – trebled – my insulin,”’ echoed Hall.
‘ What? ’
‘That’s what you said. He. Gerald. Not he and Jennifer. Where’s the proof she had anything to do with your death?’
‘ She had the motive! To get married to him! ’
‘A motive isn’t proof. Where is the proof – the proof that was overlooked or missed at the inquest – that she had anything whatsoever to do with killing you, if indeed you were killed.’ He’d read the inquest material that the efficient Perry had provided but only as part of the general background, not as something essential to the main defence and his recollection was hazy. Perhaps he should have waited until he’d read the duplicate he’d asked Perry for that morning.
‘ I was there, remember! I witnessed my own death! He lied, at the inquest. Over and over again. And no-one challenged him because it was all too cleverly done. And people were frightened of him: respected him because he was rich. He killed me with what Jennifer provided.’
‘I didn’t provide anything,’ said Jennifer, weakly.
‘If everything is so easily proved, I can’t see why you are so frightened for me to go into it. Unless, of course, the TV and newspapers are right about your sanity.’ There was a desperation that didn’t show in his voice. He had no argument left in reserve. Everything depended upon Jane’s response.
Hall’s initial thought was that Jennifer’s finger-tightening was the beginning of another uncontrollable fit, but nothing came and he realized it was Jennifer tensing, as he was tensed, against a physical and verbal tirade that would overwhelm them. But there was nothing.
When they came the words were even, measured, with no anger or hysteria. ‘ I am getting justice for myself. Justice I was denied.’
Momentarily Hall took his hand away, not believing he could prevent the tremble of excitement at her reaction and the argument it made possible. ‘Just as you are denying justice to Jennifer. I wonder how your father would have felt about that.’
‘ She had a proper trial! ’
‘And was found not guilty. Not guilty of killing Gerald Lomax. She hasn’t faced trial for killing you.’
‘ How can she be? ’
‘By letting me re-examine the inquest evidence. But not as it was examined at the inquest. As it would have been examined in a court of law if Jennifer Lomax had been on trial for your murder. And present it to you like a trial, here…’ He briefly swept his hand out. ‘… in front of the doctors, if you like.’
‘ Who decides guilt or innocence? ’
‘The weight of evidence.’
‘ You could cheat.’
‘And you’d know if I did. You’ve just said you witnessed your own murder. And Jennifer would know if I tried to cheat. And she can’t think anything without your being aware of it, can she?’
There was another protracted silence. ‘ And if there’s no evidence you expect me to leave: give up my possession? ’
‘Yes.’
‘ What if there is evidence? ’
Now the long silence was Hall’s. For several moments he held Jennifer’s eyes before saying, ‘Then it becomes a police matter, to be properly prosecuted in court, as she was properly prosecuted for the murder of Gerald. Wouldn’t that be better revenge, for her to be re-arraigned on a provable murder charge in a public court?’
‘ Brilliant! Oh yes, absolutely brilliant! I’ll go along with that! ’
Hall still held Jennifer’s eyes. ‘Are you prepared to accept it, too?’
‘ Trapped her there, haven’t you? ’
Jennifer relayed Jane’s words but didn’t answer Hall’s question.
‘Jennifer?’ he prompted.
‘You’re separating things: making it sound like Gerald might have done it by himself.’
‘ She’s scared! ’
‘I’m not scared!’ protested Jennifer, answering an accusation she hadn’t mouthed verbatim. ‘I didn’t murder her. Neither did Gerald.’
‘Then agree to my doing what I want.’
There was still a hesitation before Jennifer said, ‘All right. Do it.’
‘I should have prevented it,’ insisted Mason, after Cox had taken Jennifer to begin the complete medical examination before her first meeting with the priest. ‘You’re putting her through what amounts to a second trial. It’ll be intolerable.’
‘Not if it gets rid of Jane.’
‘There’s no guarantee it will! No guarantee Jane would leave her alone, even if you did prove Jennifer innocent.’
‘It’s a gamble,’ conceded Hall.
‘With a sick person’s sanity,’ protested the psychiatrist.
‘It gives you time to do what you can for her professionally. And for the exorcism to be attempted.’
Mason shook his head, unpersuaded. ‘Would you really tell the police if you thought there had been a murder conspiracy between Jennifer and Lomax?’
‘I believe she’s totally innocent. I wouldn’t have started any of this if I hadn’t been totally convinced of that.’
‘That isn’t an answer to my question.’
‘Would you?’
‘I’m not sure, after what she’s gone through. But it still isn’t an answer.’
‘I’m not sure, either.’
‘Why’s Mummy’s picture in the newspaper?’
Annabelle and Johnson, either side of the child at the luncheon table, each looked expectantly at the other, neither wanting to reply.
‘Sure it was her?’ asked Johnson, falling back on well practised legal avoidance of ducking a question by asking another.
‘Course it was her!’ said Emily, indignantly. There was a man by the pool this morning reading about her. There was another picture of lots of people. And there was an M word but it wasn’t mouse. I can read mouse.’
‘It might have been about people being happy that she’s getting better,’ suggested Annabelle, floundering.
Emily looked doubtfully between the two adults. ‘Will she be coming home soon then?’
‘If she gets better.’
‘Will she be nasty to me again?’
‘No,’ said the girl.
‘I don’t want her to be nasty any more. I didn’t like it.’
‘I told you it only happened because she was very ill. Now she’s getting better it can’t happen again.’
‘Good,’ said Emily, brightly. ‘Then everything’s all right. I want to go to the pool again this afternoon.’
While she and Johnson were watching an arm-banded Emily thrash in the shallow end Annabelle said, ‘I’ve just broken a cardinal rule. I’ve told a child a lie that’s bound to be found out.’
Chapter Thirty
The inquest had returned an open verdict, the only one possible from the evidence. And it was unclear from local Hampshire newspaper reports, the only public record available, how much of that evidence had been considered by the coroner, solicitor James Davies, against the prepared statements of witnesses.
Hall read the newspaper reports first, for a general understanding of how deeply Jane’s death had been examined. Gerald Lomax had been the main witness and his evidence made up the major proportion of each account. His wife had suffered diabetes from birth and had always needed to take insulin. She injected herself, usually without any problems, although on two previous occasions, before their move from America to England, there had been two serious overdose incidents. Fortunately there had been people with her on both occasions and doctors had been quickly summoned: on the second she had been admitted to hospital to be stabilized.
In the Hampshire Chronicle, which carried the longest account, the report had been broken here by a series of questions and answers, between the coroner and Lomax.
‘Was your wife careless about her injections?’ the coroner had asked.
‘Sometimes,’ Lomax had replied. ‘She also ate too irregularly for her condition.’
‘What about alcohol, which I understand can contribute to an imbalance?’
‘That had greatly reduced, since our move from America.’
‘You mean she drank immoderately?’
‘Rarely, since our transfer to this country.’
‘But before?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Would you say your wife was careless of her condition?’
‘I would say she had grown too familiar with it.’
‘Familiarity breeding contempt?’ cliched the coroner.
‘That is so.’
‘Was your wife in any way suicidal because of her condition?’
‘Absolutely not! She loved life.’
‘Did your wife take sleeping pills?’
‘No.’
‘You are aware that some were found. And that t
races were found in your wife’s body?’
‘I can’t account for that. The pills were mine. An old prescription. They should have been thrown away.’
It was his working practice usually to spend at least three days a week in London. On the day of her death, a Friday, he had arrived home in mid-afternoon. The house had appeared to be empty, which had surprised him because he had telephoned the previous evening to give her his time of arrival. He had assumed Jane was out, shopping or with friends. He’d actually telephoned a particular acquaintance, the wife of an American on an exchange secondment from IBM, to see if she was there. It was not until an hour after his return that he’d gone upstairs to find his wife in bed, in a coma. He called her doctor at the same time as the ambulance and travelled in it to hospital with her. She’d died an hour after admission.
Police Constable Harry Elroyd testified to being automatically called to the mansion by the ambulance alarm. Mrs Lomax had been in bed, still wearing her nightdress: that and the bedding was soiled, where her bladder had apparently collapsed. On a bedside table he found an insulin pack with four ampoules missing. Two, both empty, were on the table. He’d found the other two, also empty, in the bathroom waste bin. In the bathroom cabinet he had found a half-filled bottle of temazepam sleeping tablets. On the bedside table was a syringe, with a needle still attached. Close to it was a goblet still containing sufficient brandy to be identified by its smell. He’d found a two-thirds-filled bottle of brandy on the downstairs kitchen table, together with the uncleared remains of an evening meal, for one person. There was the residue of red wine in a glass and in the kitchen waste bin an empty Margaux bottle. He had located no note to indicate Mrs Lomax had intended to take her own life.
Dr Allan Greenaway said he had been Mrs Lomax’s physician since her arrival in Hampshire. Considering her diabetes she was a woman in reasonably good health, although she had consulted him about stomach pains. He had prescribed mebeverine hydrochloride, for irritable bowel syndrome, but had feared she might be developing stomach ulcers, not uncommon in her condition. For that he issued repeat prescriptions for the insulin he identified from the pack shown to him. Because of her long history of diabetes he had never thought it necessary to warn her against heavy indulgence in alcohol. It was a precaution of which she would have been permanently aware.
A Mind to Kill Page 34