The Bad Things

by Mary-Jane Riley

  ‘Let me see – “People think me and Jackie are an item. We’re not. I have a lovely wife and two children at home. I’ve already hurt them once, I don’t want to do it again.”’

  ‘That doesn’t say anything, though, does it? He always denied the rumours of anything between him and Jackie.’

  ‘True. And there was never any proof of anything else. That’s the one slip he made: “I’ve already hurt them once” – “once”, he said. Because Malcolm was a bloody good hack he knew that meant something and kept digging, but he couldn’t make anything stick. But now,’ he leaned forward, ‘I do have proof.’

  Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’ she said, trying to ignore the prickle of sweat on the back of her neck.

  ‘A diary.’ He pushed an A5-sized blue hardback book over the table to her; the sort of hardback notebook that could be found in any stationers.

  She swallowed, trying to get saliva into her mouth. She looked at the diary, but didn’t dare touch it. This was it, then. The diary she had spent so much time looking for.

  ‘I see,’ she said quietly. ‘And where did you get that?’

  Ed tapped the side of his nose. ‘Sources. You know.’

  The diary. She thought that, if she could just find it, all would be well. She pulled it towards her and opened it. There was her name. Very first entry.

  Alex. I just like saying her name over and over in my head. I daren’t say it out loud in case someone asks me who she is. And how could I say that she is the love of my life, that I’d give anything to be with her.

  She shut the book quickly and bowed her head. She didn’t need to see any more. He had protected her. No matter what she thought about him and his betrayal of her, and of his wife and children, he had protected her. And she had done nothing for him.

  ‘So what do you want from me?’

  He smiled. It looked like a shark’s smile. ‘Nothing.’

  She jerked her head up.

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘No. This is just a courtesy call.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m publishing it.’

  ‘What? You can’t.’ She tried to snatch the diary off the table but he was too quick for her.

  ‘No you don’t, this is mine now.’

  ‘No it’s not. If anything it belongs to the Jessops.’

  ‘Exactly. They, the Jessops – well Jessop’s daughter, actually – said I could use it how I wanted.’

  ‘Daughter? Bea? I thought no one knew where she was?’

  ‘Bea? No, she’s here all right.’ The shark’s smile again. ‘Though you know her as Nikki.’

  She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaustion filling her bones. What a fool she’d been. Nikki Adams or Bea Jessop or whatever her sodding name was must be laughing all the way to the bank. ‘How much do you want? And how much does Nikki want?’ she asked wearily, wondering how she could manage it.

  ‘Money?’ He shook his head. ‘Bea doesn’t want money. She wants justice.’

  ‘She was happy to take money when it was offered. Now she wants justice – also known as revenge – and you? What is it you want?’ She looked at him carefully. ‘You want a chance to make your name. The big story. The one everyone wants.’

  ‘It’s not a bad one though, is it?’ He grinned and Alex wanted to punch his sneery, smiley mouth.

  She drew patterns on the table with her finger. ‘You’ll destroy me. And my family,’ she said quietly.

  ‘You destroyed Jessop’s family.’

  ‘How did I do that? He did it all by himself.’

  Ed sat back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her heart began to beat faster.

  ‘Look, as I told you before, I’ve made a study of this case and something doesn’t add up.’

  ‘Now you’re sounding like someone in a bad movie.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe, but think about it. Why would your brother-in-law go to so much trouble to cover-up the fact that you had an affair with Jessop?’

  ‘He wanted to protect me and his family.’

  ‘He went to great lengths to do that, didn’t he? Did you know he bribed a senior officer to shut down any investigation into rumours that Martin Jessop had another mistress, lover, call it what you like?’

  Alex looked at him.

  ‘Edward Grainger, his name was.’

  ‘Was?’ She was not going to give him anything.

  ‘Dead. Killed himself. Recently. But you see where I’m coming from? A lot of effort went into “protecting” you, and I wonder why?’

  ‘Not just me. To protect the family. And my sister. Which is why you mustn’t use the story. It’ll crucify her. She didn’t know I was in a relationship with Martin.’

  Alex jumped as Ed banged the table. ‘Oh, wake up and smell the coffee, will you!’

  ‘There you go again, sounding like a bad actor in a bad movie.’

  ‘Listen to me. There’s more to it than that, there has to be.’

  She pounced on his words. ‘“Has to be”? Because you want it so, is that it?’

  ‘No. Listen. Did you have any idea at all that Martin – already the father of two children – would be capable of killing your sister’s children?’

  ‘Evidence was found—’

  ‘Evidence can be planted. False evidence found. Look at what happened to Jackie Wood. I’ll ask you again, did you have any idea?’

  ‘No. None. I was more than surprised when he was arrested.’

  ‘If you read the diary you’ll see that there is no evidence at all in there, no evil thoughts towards children. All he writes about is that he loves you. He details the places you go, the things you do. Then, when he’s arrested, on remand, he talks about prison. His wife. His children. Hardly the ramblings of a murderer.’

  ‘How would you know what the ramblings of a murderer would be?’ She felt desperate now, was trying to push away thoughts of Martin, of Jez, of the doubts starting to overwhelm her.

  ‘Look.’ His voice was gentler now. ‘I just want the story. And I’ll write it, whatever. I’m giving you the chance to give your side of it, that’s all. I don’t expect to unmask the real killer, not now. Though you never know.’ He got up. ‘Think about it.’

  The door slammed.

  34

  Kate shut the door of the interview room behind her. As rooms went, it was a bit newer than most, less graffiti on the magnolia walls, but it still had the smell of defeat permeating the air; the window was set high up in the wall and the plastic table and chairs bolted to the floor. She put the coffee down in front of Angela Jessop, who was dressed in a black, long-sleeved jersey dress, quite expensive from the look of it. She had silver studs in her ears and a long, bright orange and cream scarf around her neck. Her hair was swept up into a bun, her make-up was enough and not too much.

  ‘Do I need a lawyer?’ Her tone was even, but there was intent behind her eyes.

  Kate smiled pleasantly. So, Angela was on the offensive. Not uncommon for people when they end up in the interview room, but still. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ She didn’t want her to say yes, not yet, otherwise she wouldn’t get anything out of her.

  ‘What am I here for then?’

  Kate indicated the plastic coffee cup. ‘Sorry about the coffee, but it’s the best I can do. I’ve tried bringing my own coffee maker but health and safety wouldn’t let me plug it in. So we’ve had to make do with the vending machine.’ She set her own cup down and sat opposite Angela Jessop. ‘And if you don’t mind, I’ll just turn on the recording. Is that okay Angela? May I call you Angela?’

  Angela nodded.

  ‘And standing in the wings over there,’ she pointed to Eve Maitland who was by the door, ‘is Detective Constable Maitland.’ Kate turned on the tape machine, and gave her name, together with Eve’s, and the date and time.

  Angela put both her hands around the coffee cup. ‘Why have you brought me here?�
��

  ‘For the tape, Angela, could you state your name please.’

  ‘Angela Jessop.’ She sighed. ‘I ask you again, why have you brought me here?’

  ‘Just for a bit of a chat, really. You’re free to go if you want, you’re not under arrest or anything—’

  ‘You could have fooled me. Those plods in Cambridge made me feel like I was some bank robber.’ She ran her hands through her hair. ‘They told me they wanted to clear something up and it would be easier if I came to the station. I didn’t realize I was going to have to come here. I thought I would just go to Parkside. I’ve been there often enough in the past.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry. It must all bring back memories.’

  ‘It does. And not good ones, as you can imagine.’ She looked up at the strip lighting, then around the room. ‘They all feel the same, smell the same, these places. And although I’ve spent fifteen years trying to erase them from my memory, it’s all come flooding back.’ She shuddered. ‘They questioned me for hours, you know.’

  Kate did know, she had read the transcripts. Some of the questioning had seemed brutal, as if they truly believed she had helped her husband kill the babies. How she held out, Kate didn’t know, especially when they’d gone down the road trodden by some of the tabloids at the time. How could you live with a murderer and not know? was the easiest of the things she was asked. For a minute Kate felt sorry for her, then she remembered the sight of Grainger’s face in the plastic bag – the swollen tongue, the bulging eyes – and she didn’t feel sorry for her any more.

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Sorry? That’s not much comfort, you know.’

  Kate nodded. ‘Things are a bit different today.’

  ‘Really? You could have fooled me.’

  ‘I saw my daughter here too. Just now as I was coming in. PC Plod wouldn’t let me talk to her though. What is she doing here?’

  Kate made a show of opening up a cardboard file and looking through some papers. ‘You mean Bea Jessop?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Yes. Though we seem to know her as Nikki.’

  ‘Why do you want to talk to her? She’s done nothing wrong.’ She began to pull at her scarf with her free hand.

  ‘I’m sure she hasn’t,’ Kate continued smoothly, ‘we just wanted to talk to you both. As I said, clear something up.’ She looked down, as though considering her notes. ‘Actually, that’s something that’s puzzling me. Why did she change her name?’

  Angela gazed at one of the magnolia walls. ‘Why does anybody? To become someone else. To get away from the shame of being her father’s daughter.’ She looked at Kate again. ‘When they questioned me – then, I mean – it felt like days. I’m sure you lot were convinced that I had to be his accomplice. When they found those clothes in Martin’s bin, that’s when they really went to town. Showed me pictures, terrible, terrible pictures.’

  Kate remained still. She knew those pictures, too. Had looked at them often over the years, though in reality she didn’t need the photos; she had a perfect, sharp photo of Harry in her head.

  ‘Who questioned you at the time? Can you remember?’

  Her mouth twisted. ‘How could I forget. Grainger. Detective Inspector Edward Grainger. Self-satisfied sod that he was.’

  ‘Have you seen him recently?’

  ‘Grainger?’

  ‘Yes. Edward Grainger.’

  ‘I thought he’d gone to work in Guernsey?’

  ‘No, he came back here, when his wife fell ill. She died about a year ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  I’m sure you are, thought Kate. ‘Grainger was murdered yesterday.’

  ‘Murdered?’

  She wasn’t a bad actress. The strip light flickered. A tic appeared in her cheek.

  Not a bad actress. But not great.

  Kate put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. ‘He was fed whisky and pills, then someone put a bag over his head, pumped helium into it, and murdered him.’

  ‘That’s awful.’ She blinked three times. The light flickered again. A strand of hair came free from her bun.

  ‘The thing is, Angela, you were caught on a speed camera about three quarters of an hour before he was found. On the road leading away from his house.’

  ‘A speed camera?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘On the road leading away from his house?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kate tried to stay patient.

  ‘Is that why I’m here? Because I was “caught”, as you say, on a speed camera on a road near his house?’

  ‘Shortly before he was found, yes. And shortly after he died. And it wasn’t just you in the car. Your daughter was with you.’

  ‘What?’ Her lip curled. ‘And one fuzzy dark shot from the back showed you all that?’

  Kate pulled the speed camera photo out from her bundle of papers and slid it across the table to Angela, who picked it up and studied it.

  She put it back down on the table. Her complexion was pasty. Both hands were playing with her scarf, twisting it round and round. ‘So? It doesn’t prove anything.’

  ‘What were you doing near his house on the day he was murdered?’

  ‘How do you know he was murdered? Sounded more like he killed himself.’ She looked at Kate defiantly. ‘The cowards, they always find the easy way out. Leave a note saying they couldn’t take any more. Even Martin. Did you know he had a lover?’

  Kate closed her eyes briefly and tried to damp down the excitement. The note. Nobody had mentioned a note. And finally, something about the lover.

  ‘Angela. Tell me about the mistress, lover, whatever you want to call her.’ She was getting close to knowing more about what happened fifteen years ago, she could feel it.

  ‘Bitch, I call her. If it wasn’t for her Martin would still be alive.’ Angela abandoned her scarf and began to pick the sides of her thumbs. ‘It was that damn diary. I didn’t even know it existed, not until Bea told me about it.’ She laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t get used to calling her Nikki. Just like I couldn’t get used to thinking of her stacking shelves in Tesco’s. “Bea,” I said to her, “can’t you find something a bit more suited to your qualifications?” She trained as a teacher, you know.’

  ‘Whose diary?’

  ‘Martin’s.’ She seemed surprised at the question.

  ‘And it told you about the mistress?’ Kate knew she had to go carefully here; she didn’t want Angela Jessop to clam up.

  ‘I wonder now if she had something to do with, you know, what happened.’ She looked at Kate, her eyes had gone back into their sockets. ‘Do you think it could?’

  ‘I don’t know, Angela. Tell me.’

  She gave a deep, shuddering sigh. ‘Martin’s lawyer was a friend of the family. He played golf with Jonny Danby.’ A smile twisted one side of her face. ‘Old boys’ club, eh? It was easy enough to keep in touch with Jonny over the years, get a bit close to him. I wanted to keep tabs on the Wood woman in prison. See what was happening to her. Thought it might be useful, and it was. Jonny Danby had been Martin’s lawyer as well as Jackie Wood’s.’ She picked at the skin on the side of her thumbs. ‘He told me about the appeal and that she was most likely going to be freed. He said he didn’t think she would go and live at the other end of the country. It was just a matter of a bit of research to find out that her parents had died and that they’d had a caravan in Sole Bay. That the caravan hadn’t been sold. Good old internet.’ She shrugged. ‘Bea went to Sole Bay and rented a caravan on the same site just after Wood moved in. It was a stroke of luck that it was right next door to Wood’s. Then, when Wood came to the caravan a couple of days later, Bea helped her move in. She told me she had some plan to make Wood pay for what she had done to our family. She never believed her dad was guilty, you see.’ She smiled. The skin on the side of her thumbs was raw.

  ‘What about you? Did you believe Martin had killed those children?’

  Angela Jessop gave a sigh from
the depths of her soul. ‘At first I didn’t know what to think. I loved him. Oh, I knew he’d strayed,’ she waved her hand as if dismissing the hurt. ‘After all, he gave that interview to The Post. I hated him after he killed himself. But then…then I realized that he would never, ever have hurt those children. Never.’

  Kate nodded. ‘So, the diary?’

  Another sigh. ‘They got chatting and Wood told Bea all about the diary. Said Martin had even written it in prison, but a policeman had taken it off him. Said Edward Grainger had it. Said it was “explosive”. That was her very word. “Explosive”. Then that woman came along. Alex Devlin.’

  Kate thought about the burglary. ‘So Bea went looking for the diary one night, did she?’

  ‘Well, she could hardly go and ask the bugger could she? So yes, she did. And found it. Could I have some more coffee, please?’

  Kate nodded. ‘We’ll take a bit of a break.’ She switched off the tape recorder.

  Eve Maitland slipped out of the room, coming back a couple of minutes later with the drink.

  ‘So,’ said Kate, switching the tape recorder back on and announcing all their names again, ‘Bea found the diary?’

  ‘You were there, weren’t you?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When they found Harry. You found Harry.’ She grimaced. ‘It must have been…’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t know, horrendous.’

  ‘Yes.’ Kate refused to let the images that haunted her into her head. ‘The diary.’

  ‘It described everything. The times they met. Where they met. What they did.’ Her expression was filled with disgust. ‘Creeping about. Sex in anonymous hotel rooms to start with, then she found him the flat in Sole Bay. So very convenient.’

  Even now, Kate could see the hurt on her face, hear it in her voice. ‘Does it say where Martin buried Millie?’

  Angela looked at her, surprise on her face. ‘No, no.’ She shook her head. ‘The diary said nothing about any of that, just about her. And when he got to prison, how he felt he couldn’t betray her, that it wouldn’t have done any good. It would have done me some good, though.’ She looked at Kate, her eyes shining with tears. ‘He did talk about me and the children, too. He still loved us. I can hang on to that.’