The Breaker

by Minette Walters

  ‘Everything I know is what Steve told me.’

  Carpenter nodded towards the recording machine. ‘This is a formal interview under taped conditions, Tony. Let me rephrase the question for you so there can be no misunderstandings. Bearing in mind that the Sumners are recent newcomers to Lymington, that both Steven Harding and William Sumner have denied there was any relationship between Steven and Kate Sumner, and that you, Anthony Bridges, claim to have met her only once, how do you explain your extensive and accurate knowledge of her?’

  Marie Freemantle was a tall, willowy blonde with waist-length wavy hair and huge doe-like eyes which were awash with tears. Once assured that Steve was alive and well and currently answering questions about why he had been at Chapman’s Pool on Sunday, she dried her eyes and favoured the policemen with a heavily practised triangular smile. If they were honest, both men were moved by her prettiness when they first saw her, although their sympathies were soon frayed by the self-centred, petulant nature beneath. They realized she wasn’t very bright when it became clear that it hadn’t occurred to her they were questioning her because Steven Harding was a suspect in Kate Sumner’s murder. She chose to talk to them away from her father and his girlfriend, and her spite was colossal, particularly towards the woman whom she described as an interfering bitch. ‘I hate her,’ she finished. ‘Everything was fine till she stuck her nose in.’

  ‘Meaning you’ve always been allowed to do what you liked?’ suggested Campbell.

  ‘I’m old enough.

  ‘How old were you when you first had sex with Steven Harding?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ She wriggled her shoulders. ‘But that’s nothing these days. Most girls I know had sex at thirteen.’

  ‘How long have you known him?’

  ‘Six months.’

  ‘How often have you had sex with him?’

  ‘Lots of times.’

  ‘Where do you do it?’

  ‘Mostly on his boat.’

  Campbell frowned. ‘In the cabin?’

  Not often. The cabin stinks,’ she said. ‘He takes a blanket up on deck and we do it in the sunshine or under the stars. It’s great.’

  ‘Moored up to the buoy?’ asked Campbell, with a rather shocked expression. Like Galbraith earlier, he was wondering about the generation gap that seemed to have opened, unobserved, between himself and today’s youth. ‘In full view of the Isle of Wight ferry?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said indignantly, wriggling her shoulders again. ‘He picks me up somewhere and we go for a sail.’

  ‘Where does he pick you up?’

  ‘All sorts of places. Like he says, he’d get strung up if anyone knew he was going with a fifteen-year-old, and he reckons if you don’t use the same place too often, no one notices.’ She shrugged, recognizing that further explanation was necessary. ‘If you use a marina once in two weeks, who’s going to remember? Then there’s the salt flats. I walk round the path from the Yacht Haven and he just shoots in with his dinghy and lifts me off. Sometimes I go to Poole by train and meet him there. Mum thinks I’m with Dad, Dad thinks I’m with Mum. It’s simple. I just phone him on his mobile and he tells me where to go.’

  ‘Did you leave a message on his phone this morning?’

  She nodded. ‘He can’t phone me in case Mum gets suspicious.’

  ‘How did you meet him in the first place?’

  ‘At the Lymington yacht club. There was a dance there on St Valentine’s Day and Dad got tickets for it because he’s still a member even though he lives in Poole now. Mum said Fliss and me could go if Dad watched out for us, but he got shit-faced as usual and left us to get on with it. That’s when he was going out with his bitch of a secretary. I really hated her. She was always trying to put him against me.’

  Campbell was tempted to say it wouldn’t have been difficult. ‘Did your father introduce you to Steve? Did he know him?’

  ‘No. One of my teachers did. He and Steve have been friends for years.’

  ‘Which teacher?’

  ‘Tony Bridges.’ Her full lips curved into a malicious smile. ‘He’s fancied me for ages and he was trying to make this pathetic move on me when Steve cut him out. God, he was pissed about it. He’s been needling away at me all term, trying to find out what’s going on, but Steve told me not to tell him in case he got us into trouble for under-age sex. He reckons Tony’s so fucking jealous he’d make life hell for us if he could.’

  Campbell thought back to his interview with Bridges on Monday night. ‘Perhaps he feels responsible for you.’

  ‘That’s not the reason,’ she said scornfully. ‘He’s a sad little bastard – that’s the reason. None of his girlfriends stay with him because he’s stoned most of the time and can’t do the business properly. He’s been going out with this hairdresser for about four months now, and Steve says he’s been feeding her drugs so she won’t complain about his lousy performance. If you want my opinion there’s something wrong with him – he’s always trying to touch up girls in class – but our stupid headmaster’s too thick to do anything about it.’

  Campbell exchanged a glance with his colleague. ‘How does Steve know he’s been feeding her drugs?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s seen him do it. It’s like a Mickey Finn. You dissolve a tablet in lager and the girl passes out.’

  ‘Do you know what drug he’s using?’

  Another shrug. ‘Some sort of sleeping pill.’

  ‘I’m not going to explain anything without a solicitor here,’ said Bridges adamantly. ‘Look, this was one sick woman. You think that kid of hers is weird? Well, trust me, she’s as sane as you and me compared with her mother.’

  WPC Griffiths heard the sound of smashing glass from the kitchen, and lifted her head in immediate concern. She had left Hannah watching television in the sitting room and, as far as she knew, William was still in his study upstairs where he had retreated, angry and resentful, after his interview with DI Galbraith. With a perplexed frown, she tiptoed along the corridor and pushed open the sitting-room door to find Sumner standing just inside. He turned an ashen face towards her then gestured helplessly towards the little girl who stalked purposefully about the room, picking up pictures of her mother and throwing them with high-pitched guttural cries into the unlit fireplace.

  Ingram put a cup of tea in front of Steven Harding and took a chair on the other side of the table. He was puzzled by the man’s attitude. He had expected a long interview session, punctuated by denials and counter accusations. Instead Harding had admitted culpability and agreed with everything Maggie had written in her statement. All that awaited him now was to be formally charged and held over till the next morning. His only real concern had been his telephone. When Ingram had handed it to the custody sergeant and formally entered it into the inventory of Harding’s possessions, Harding had looked relieved. But whether because it had been returned or because it was switched off, Ingram couldn’t tell.

  ‘How about talking to me off the record?’ he invited. ‘Just to satisfy my own curiosity. There’s no tape. No witnesses to the conversation. Just you and me.’

  Harding shrugged. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘You. What’s going on. Why you were on the coastal path on Sunday. What brought you back to Chapman’s Pool this morning.’

  ‘I already told you. I fancied a walk’ – he made a good attempt at a cocky grin – ‘both times.’

  ‘All right.’ He splayed his palms on the edge of the table, preparatory to standing up. ‘It’s your funeral. Just don’t complain afterwards that no one tried to help you. You’ve always been the obvious suspect. You knew the victim, you own a boat, you were on the spot, you told lies about what you were doing there. Have you any idea how all that is going to look to a jury if the CPS decides to prosecute you for Kate Sumner’s rape and murder?’

  ‘They can’t. They haven’t got any evidence.’

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake grow up, Steve!’ he said in irritation, subsiding on to hi
s chair again. ‘Don’t you read the newspapers? People have spent years in prison on less evidence than Winfrith have against you. All right, it’s only circumstantial but juries don’t like coincidence any more than the rest of us and, frankly, your antics of this morning haven’t helped any. All they prove is that women make you angry enough to attack them.’ He paused, inviting a reply that never came. ‘If you’re interested, in the report I wrote on Monday, I mentioned that both Miss Jenner and I thought you were having difficulty coping with an erection. Afterwards one of the Spender boys described how you were using your telephone as a masturbation aid before Miss Jenner arrived.’ He shrugged. ‘It may have had nothing to do with Kate Sumner, but it won’t sound good in court.’

  A dull flush spread up Harding’s throat and into his face. ‘That sucks!’

  ‘True nevertheless.’

  ‘I wish to God I’d never helped those kids,’ he said with a burst of anger. ‘I wouldn’t be in this mess but for them. I should have walked away and left them to cope on their own.’ He pushed his hair off his face with both hands and rested his forehead in his palms. ‘Jesus Christ! Why do you have to put something like that in a report?’

  ‘Because it happened.’

  ‘Not like that it didn’t,’ he said sullenly, the flush of humiliation lingering in his cheeks.

  ‘Then how?’ Ingram watched him for a moment. ‘Headquarters think you came back to gloat over the rape and that’s what caused your erection.’

  ‘That’s bullshit!’ said the young man angrily.

  ‘What other explanation is there? If it wasn’t the thought of Kate Sumner’s body that excited you then it had to be Miss Jenner or the boys.’

  Harding raised his head and stared at the policeman, his eyes widening in shocked revulsion. ‘The boys?’ he echoed.

  It crossed Ingram’s mind that the facial expression was a little too theatrical, and he reminded himself, as Galbraith had done, that he was dealing with an actor. He wondered what Harding’s reaction would be when he was told about the videotape. ‘You couldn’t keep your hands off them,’ he pointed out. ‘According to Miss Jenner, you were hugging Paul from behind when she rounded the boatsheds.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ said Harding in desperation. ‘I was only showing him how to use the binoculars properly.’

  ‘Prove it.’

  ‘How can I?’

  Ingram tilted his chair back and stretched his long legs out in front of him, lacing his hands behind his head. ‘Tell me why you were at Chapman’s Pool. Let’s face it, whatever you were doing can’t be any worse than the constructions that are being put on your actions at the moment.’

  ‘I’m not saying another word.’

  Ingram stared at a mark on the ceiling. ‘Then let me tell you what I think you were doing. You went there to meet someone,’ he murmured. ‘I think it was a girl and I think she was on one of the boats, but whatever plans you’d made with her were scuppered when the place started jumping with policemen and sightseers.’ He shifted his attention back to Harding. ‘But why the secrecy, Steve? What on earth were you intending to do with her that meant you’d rather be arrested on suspicion of rape and murder than give an explanation?’

  It was two hours before a solicitor arrived, courtesy of Tony’s grandfather, and after a brief discussion with his client, and following police assurances that, because of his alibi, Tony was not under suspicion of involvement in Kate Sumner’s death, he advised him to answer their questions.

  ‘Okay, yes, I got to know Kate pretty well. She lives – lived – about two hundred yards from my grandfather’s garage. She used to come in and talk to me whenever I was in there because she knew I was a friend of Steve’s. She was a right little tart, always flirting, always opening those baby blue eyes of hers and telling stories about how this and that man fancied her. I thought it was a come-on, particularly when she said William had a problem getting it up. She told me she went through pints of baby oil to help the poor sod out, and it made her laugh like a drain. Her descriptions were about as graphic as you can get, but she didn’t seem to care that Hannah was listening or that I might get to be friendly with William.’ He looked troubled, as if the memory haunted him. ‘I told you she was sick. Matter of fact, I think she enjoyed being cruel to people. I reckon she made that poor bastard’s life hell. It certainly gave her a kick slapping me down when I tried to kiss her. She spat in my face, and said she wasn’t that desperate.’ He fell silent.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘End of February.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Nothing. I told her to fuck off. Then Steve started dropping hints that he was balling her. I think she must have told him I’d made a pass, so he thought he’d swagger a bit just to rub it in. He said everyone had had her except me.’

  Carpenter pulled forward a piece of paper and flicked the plunger on his pen. ‘Give me a list,’ he said. ‘Everyone you know who had anything to do with her.’

  ‘Steve Harding.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t know of anyone else.’

  Carpenter laid his pen on the table again and stared at the young man. ‘That’s not good enough, Tony. You describe her as a tart, then offer me one name. That gives me very little confidence in your assessment of Kate’s character. Assuming you’re telling the truth, we know of only three men who had a relationship with her – her husband, Steven Harding and one other from her past.’ His eyes bored into Bridges’. ‘By any standards that’s a modest number for a thirty-year-old woman. Or would you call any woman who’s had three lovers a tart? Your girlfriend, for example? How many partners has Bibi had?’

  ‘Leave Bibi out of this,’ said Bridges angrily. ‘She’s got nothing to do with it.’

  Galbraith leaned forward. ‘She gave you your alibi for Saturday night,’ he reminded him. ‘That means she has a great deal to do with it.’ He folded his hands in front of his mouth and studied Bridges intently. ‘Did she know you fancied Kate Sumner?’

  The solicitor laid a hand on the young man’s arm. ‘You don’t need to answer that.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to,’ he said, shaking himself free. ‘I’m fed up with them trying to drag Bibi into it.’ He addressed Galbraith. ‘I didn’t fucking well fancy Kate. I loathed the stupid bitch. I just thought she was easy, that’s all, so I tried it on once. Listen, she was a cockteaser. It gave her a buzz to get blokes excited.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked you, Tony. I asked you if Bibi knew you fancied Kate.’

  ‘No,’ he muttered.

  Galbraith nodded. ‘But she knew about Steve and Kate?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who told her? You or Steve?’

  Bridges slumped angrily in his chair. ‘Steve mostly. She got really worked up when Kate started smearing Hannah’s crap all over his car so he told her what had been going on.’

  Galbraith leaned back, letting his hands drop to the table top. ‘Women don’t give a toss about a car unless the guy who drives it matters to her. Are you sure your girlfriend isn’t playing away from home?’

  Bridges erupted out of his seat in a fury of movement. ‘You are so fucking patronizing. You think you know it all, don’t you? She got mad because there was shit all over the handle when she tried to open the door. That’s what got her worked up. Not because she cares about Steve or the car, but because her hand was covered in crap. Are you so stupid you can’t work that out for yourselves?’

  ‘But doesn’t that prove my point?’ said Galbraith unemotionally. ‘If she was driving Steve’s car, she must have had more than a nodding acquaintance with him.’

  ‘I was driving it,’ said Bridges, ignoring the solicitor’s restraining hand to lean across the table and thrust his face into the Inspector’s. ‘I checked the driver’s handle and it was clean, so I released the locks. What never occurred to me was that the bloody bitch might have changed tactics. This time the crap was on the passenger’s side. Now,
get this, dickhead. It was still soft when Bibi touched it so that meant Kate must have put it there minutes before. It also meant that Bibi’s hand stank to high bloody heaven. Can you follow all that or do you want me to repeat it?’

  ‘No,’ said Galbraith mildly. ‘The tape recorder’s pretty reliable. I think we got it.’ He nodded towards the chair on the other side of the table. ‘Sit down, Tony.’ He waited while Bridges resumed his seat. ‘Did you see Kate walk away?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should have done. You said the faeces was still soft.’

  Tony pulled both hands across his peroxided hair and bent forward over the table. ‘There were plenty of places she could have been hiding. She was probably watching us.’

  ‘Did you ever wonder if you were the target and not Steve? You describe her as sick and say she spat at you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She must have known Steve allows you to drive his car.’

  ‘Once in a while. Not often.’

  Galbraith flipped another page of his notebook. ‘You told me this afternoon that you and Steve had an arrangement regarding your grandfather’s garage and Crazy Daze. A straight swap, you called it.’

  ‘Yes. ’

  ‘You said you took Bibi there two weeks ago.’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘Bibi doesn’t agree with you. I phoned her at her parents’ house two hours ago, and she said she’s never been on Crazy Daze.’

  ‘She’s forgotten,’ he said dismissively. ‘She was drunk as a skunk that night. What does it matter anyway?’