Fear of Drowning
Page 18
She shot a glance at him.
‘Depending on what happened at the bungalow last Saturday night, you may be an accessory to murder. If that’s the case, that’s your job down the tubes; even if you escape prison, you’ll be drawing Social Security.’
She drew breath sharply. ‘You said you were allowing me to catch the last bus.’
‘I am. That doesn’t mean to say you’ll escape prosecution.’
Nicola Williams clenched her jaw. ‘I want immunity from prosecution in return for a complete statement implicating my brother.’
‘You and your brother have the same ruthless streak, don’t you?’
‘Same tyrannical father, same weak mother who failed to protect, you have to become ruthless to survive. Maybe Daddy killed his brother in a sense, Rufus was just the murder weapon … I think I’ll be chewing that one over for some time to come.’
‘No deal about the immunity request.’
‘Oh, I think there will be … I mean, I have a loyalty to my brother, but I have a loyalty to my parents, I have a loyalty to my uncle and I have a loyalty to myself. But like every other human being, I can only serve one master. Other masters have to fend for themselves.’ She sat back in the chair, recovering composure, recovering confidence. ‘I have not yet told you what happened at the bungalow.’
‘I can guess.’
‘I’m sure you can, Chief Inspector, but you can’t walk into York Crown Court asking what you guess to be used as evidence, can you? Rufus won’t be spilling any beans.’ She held eye contact with Hennessey, then Yellich, then Hennessey again. ‘You’ve got no hard evidence at all, have you? Nothing at all. But I can make and sign a statement that will enable you to clear up three murders. That will look good on your service record, and it’ll be good for the statistics of this police force. So how about it?’
‘I can’t say yea or nay. The Crown Prosecution Service will have to pronounce on the issue of immunity from prosecution in return for Queen’s evidence.’ Hennessey spoke sourly. He knew she was right. He also knew she’d get her immunity. ‘I have to give them a measure of your evidence, it’s a question of letting the dog see the rabbit.’
‘Turn your play thing off and I’ll tell you.’
Hennessey said, ‘The interview is terminated at two-thirty-four p.m.’ He switched off the machine, the red light faded.
‘Well…’ Nicola Williams smiled. ‘We got back to the bungalow … Rufus disappeared and returned with a long piece of metal, a car jack handle from the garage … he killed Mummy first … brought it straight down on her head … I think he did that so she’d never know the story about Uncle Marcus. It all happened quickly … then he turned on Daddy … really angry … told Daddy how he’d murdered Uncle Marcus … how he’d planned it, once he had realized how wealthy Marcus was and once he’d realized how Daddy had survived all the years by dipping into Marcus’s pocket … he said Marcus hadn’t got much of a life anyway … so we may as well have the money. We could use it, Marcus couldn’t, with his hermit-like existence … what use was all that money to Marcus … confess I’ve never seen Daddy sober up so quickly … then Rufus really went mad, beating Daddy’s brains out saying, “That was my money … that was my money … six million pounds … gone, gone…”’
‘Then?’
‘Then after we’d collected ourselves, he dragged the bodies into the garage and we cleaned up the mess together. He did most of the clearing up, I followed after him because he wasn’t very thorough.’
‘We thought … well, Sergeant Yellich here thought the clean house spoke of a woman’s touch.’
‘He was right.
‘He went back to his cottage on the Sunday. I stayed behind, going over the cleaning until I felt I’d got all the blood up … then I went to the garage and said goodbye to my parents. So you see, I wasn’t really lying to you when I told you I’d seen and spoken to both my parents on the Sunday afternoon. Then I returned to London. Rufus returned the next night, Monday/Tuesday night, put the bodies in the Volvo, drove them a little way out into the country and buried them in a field. So you see, I haven’t really committed a very serious crime.’
‘Accessory to murder. That’s serious enough.’
‘That could be argued. I didn’t assist with any murder. I didn’t know it was going to happen. When I cleaned up the mess I was in a state of shock, under the thrall of my brother … my state of mind was temporarily unbalanced … I would plead guilty to a lesser charge of obstructing the police with their enquiries … but for immunity from prosecution for that petty crime, you get the evidence you need to wrap up three murders. The CPS will go for that deal, won’t they? Or is it an it? Won’t it?’ Nicola Williams stood. ‘Now, if you’ll kindly escort me back to my brother’s cottage, I’ll be able to collect my things and leave before Rufus returns from the base, he’s drawn weekend day duty officer this weekend. You can arrest him when he returns at about five p.m. It’ll be neater than arresting him at the base. And you’ll know where I am … it’s not in my interest to do anything but cooperate fully and completely. I’ll let you know my new address.’
‘Your new address?’
‘Well, I’ve got some adjusting to do, haven’t I? No more expensive rented flats in NW2 for me. I’ve got to find a damp bedsit somewhere. Maybe transfer out of London to some place where the rent is affordable for someone on my salary. Look for a rich man to rescue me. I’ve still got some good years in me. Shall we go?’
Yellich looked at Hennessey, who nodded, reluctantly.
Alone in the interview room, Hennessey looked at the date he had written on his notepad. June the thirteenth. Some years he anticipates the date with dread, other years it comes and goes without him noticing it, and other years, the worst happens, he realizes on the day that it is the date. The thirteenth of June. His brother’s birthday. At least it would have been had he lived. Had he been cautious, not reckless, had the danger years not claimed him as one of theirs. It is said that the cemeteries are full of young men who don’t believe it can happen to them, and Graham Hennessey, twenty-two years old when he died, was one such. A long time ago now, but each thirteenth of June it seemed to Hennessey as though it was yesterday that the policeman had knocked awkwardly on his parents’ front door.
ALSO BY PETER TURNBULL
FICTION
The Man with No Face
Embracing Skeletons
The Killing Floor
Long Day Monday
And Did Murder Him
Condition Purple
Two Way Cut
Big Money
Fair Friday
Deep and Crisp and Even
The Claws of the Gryphon
NONFICTION
The Killer Who Never Was
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.
FEAR OF DROWNING. Copyright © 1999 by Peter Turnbull. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
The word ‘snickelways’ is used with permission of Mark W. Jones
www.minotaurbooks.com
ISBN 0-312-26158-6
First published in Great Britain by Collins Crime, HarperCollinsPublishers
First St. Martin’s Minotaur Edition: August 2000
eISBN 9781466848115
First eBook edition: June 2013
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