Cruel Venus

by Susan Lewis

‘And the car? God, that all sounded so much worse than I’d expected. I wish to God I’d told them straight away.’

  ‘Don’t go losing any sleep over that,’ the leading counsel told her. ‘The owner of the car-hire company is going to testify that you generally rent from him when your car is in for service. And that when you do you generally give the rental back already cleaned.’

  Shelley still looked agitated and afraid. ‘What about my neighbour who’s going to say that she saw a dark-haired woman leaving my flat around nine? That would leave just enough time for me to get to the restaurant by nine fifteen, after cleaning up the unholy mess I must have been in.’ Bitterness was adding another edge to her fear.

  ‘She’s not willing to swear it was you,’ Ed reminded her. ‘She’s not even certain the woman she saw was actually coming out of your flat. She was just on the stairs coming down from that direction.’

  Shelley covered her face with her hands. What she wouldn’t give to be able to go home to her own bed. It had been so long it made everything in her ache. ‘Was Allyson there today?’ she asked.

  Ed nodded.

  ‘You’re going to ask her about the clock, aren’t you?’ she said, turning to counsel. ‘When the time comes, you have to ask her what she did with the clock.’

  ‘What do you think she did with the clock?’ he asked.

  Shelley’s eyes were burning. ‘I don’t know. But it has to be somewhere,’ she said.

  ‘Unless she destroyed it.’

  Shelley looked at him with such contempt that he actually blushed. ‘Why would she take it just to destroy it?’ she snapped.

  They’d been through this a hundred times before, so the lawyer didn’t ask why Allyson would have taken it at all, for they were perfectly aware that it made no sense when Allyson would never be able to admit to owning it. So all he said was, ‘Of course we’ll ask her where it is.’ Then it was time to go.

  Allyson wasn’t called until the afternoon of the third day. By then both Bob and Mark had been in the witness box, and the tabloid press was going crazy. Getting in and out of court was proving so difficult now that all three of them had to have police assistance. That she and Mark were arriving and leaving together had been noticed, so the second breakdown of her marriage was being crudely splashed over the inside pages, while the trial retained its hold on the headlines. Pictures of Shelley graced every news-stand; mounting belief in her guilt loaded every story.

  Despite everything, Allyson’s heart went out to her. She could hardly imagine what it must be like to be in Shelley’s shoes, though she hoped to God she would never find out.

  Mark understood her fear, and talked her through it as often as she needed. She knew that virtually nothing she said made any sense, but nothing about any of this made any sense. There was something so strange, so disconnected from reality, about going into that court every day; sitting there waiting to be called while inside the events surrounding Tessa’s death were meticulously and damningly pieced together. In the end they were going to come up with two slightly flawed pictures, one drawn by the prosecution, the other by Shelley’s counsel. And either one of them could be the right one.

  When her name was called it was as though everything inside her drained away. Her mouth turned dry. Her legs became weak. There was only a solid ball in her chest. Mark was beside her. His hand was on hers as they got to their feet. He couldn’t come in with her, but she could feel him trying to fill her with his strength. Thanks to his own testimony the world now saw him as the great seducer of his employees. She wondered how he felt about that. He claimed not to care, that all that mattered to him was her, and that she got through this so that they could get on with their lives.

  Bob was nearby. As she walked towards the courtroom door she could feel him watching her. They’d spoken only once since she’d left, and it hadn’t been pleasant. He’d pleaded, cried, ranted and finally threatened that if she didn’t come back he’d testify that he’d called at her parents’ house on the night of the murder and there had been no reply. He hadn’t done it, and she could only feel sorry now for the pain and bewilderment that had made him want to hurt her in such a terrible way.

  An usher was holding the door open for her to walk through. Mark let go of her arm and she entered. It took only seconds for her eyes to find Shelley, and when she did her chest became so tight it was hard to breathe. Maybe it was the way Shelley’s head was bowed that made her seem smaller, somehow diminished as she sat there alone in the dock, or maybe it was shock playing tricks with her eyes. This was the first time Allyson had seen her since the night of the murder and it all felt so stupefyingly awry that Shelley should be there, and she should be here, when they should be standing and fighting together, the way they always had in the past. She seemed unable to make herself remember the terrible wrong Shelley had done her, for it was as though they had somehow blundered into the events of another existence and all she wanted was to rescue Shelley from the terrifying injustice that was being thrust upon her. Then Shelley’s eyes came up and Allyson felt the room start to spin. It was as though Shelley’s hatred was streaming into her like a paralysing venom, and her instinct for survival took a stultifying blow as she realized how determined Shelley was to see her pay for this crime. But she wasn’t going to let Shelley win, it wasn’t even possible for Shelley to win, because they both knew the truth of that night, so they both knew who had killed an innocent nineteen-year-old girl.

  She was led to the witness box and the Bible was placed in her hand. After taking the oath she watched a bewigged and bespectacled lawyer get to his feet. She knew Shelley was watching her, could feel those dark, malevolent eyes blazing right into her soul.

  She answered the questions quietly, firmly and always succinctly. Yes, she had been looking after her father that night. No, she hadn’t left the house. No, her father was in no mental state to understand whether she was there or not. No, she hadn’t gone to the accused’s apartment. No, she hadn’t taken a bronze figurine from the apartment. Yes, she did know that the figurine had been identified as the murder weapon. No, she did not return to the office after she’d left around five thirty that evening. Yes, she did know that the deceased would be working late, because she had instructed her to.

  They wanted to know if she owned a dark wig, but she didn’t. Was it easy to get a taxi around where her parents lived? Generally it was. She knew what they were driving at: neither her car, nor her parents’ car had yielded up any evidence, so perhaps she had taken a taxi back to the office that night. If she had, they had been unable to find a driver to confirm it, nor anything to suggest she might have disguised herself for the journey. The question of how she might have returned, apparently covered in blood and presumably in a state of great agitation, wasn’t addressed.

  They moved on.

  Yes, she had met the accused for dinner around nine fifteen, when the accused had given her a gift. She hadn’t opened it until later, because the accused had asked her not to. No, the gift was not a clock. Yes, it was the murder weapon, wrapped up in one of her own make-up gowns. Certainly she knew which clock was being referred to. No, she had no idea where that clock was now.

  And was it her belief that the accused had tried to frame her for the murder of Tessa Dukes?

  Objection!

  So many objections. Some accepted, plenty denied. They journeyed through the first break-up of her marriage. Her husband’s betrayal with her assistant, Tessa Dukes, and with her best friend, Shelley Bronson. They made much of the loss of her senior position on the programme, the downsizing of her public profile. Yes, she had felt humiliated. Yes, she had hated Tessa. Yes, she had threatened to kill her.

  Yes to everything.

  She had known about Mark Reiner’s affair with Shelley. She’d also known that Tessa Dukes had been in Mr Reiner’s hotel room while they were all in Italy. No, she didn’t believe they’d had sex. No, she didn’t know that for certain because she hadn’t been there. Was she afrai
d of losing Mr Reiner to Tessa, the way she had lost her husband? Had she hatched a plan to kill Tessa Dukes and make it look as though Shelley had done it? Had she used her father’s impoverished mental state as a cover for getting rid of both rivals? Had she been jealous of Mr Reiner’s affair with Ms Bronson? Wasn’t Mr Reiner in a perfect position to resurrect her ailing career and alter the course of her foundering public image? It was plain to see how much she stood to gain from a relationship with Mr Reiner. And how much she had to lose should Mr Reiner choose Shelley, or Tessa, over her. So why not make sure that never happened? Why not take whatever steps necessary to prevent history from repeating itself and leaving her abandoned again? With Tessa dead and Shelley in prison, history wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Allyson was breathless. The faces in the courtroom were swirling around her. Her clothes were tight. Her skin was on fire.

  In the end it all amounted to motive, means and opportunity. She had them all.

  She had to be guilty.

  It was time for Shelley to enter the witness box. She’d known it would come today, her lawyers had told her last night. She’d hardly slept. Not even the convincing ring of Allyson’s guilt, nor the murmurs of doubt that were finally being voiced in the press, had been enough to stop the trample of panic inside her head. She wouldn’t get a second chance at this. She had to do everything she could now to persuade the jury that though she might have had the means and opportunity, she simply had no reason to kill Tessa Dukes. On the contrary, Tessa Dukes was turning the programme’s ratings around; she’d also got Bob Jaymes off Shelley’s back after years of harassment. What did it matter that Bob had testified to her plaguing him to leave his wife? It was his word against hers, and he was already known to be a liar and a cheat, whereas she was a beautiful woman. What need would she have to try to steal her best friend’s husband? But even if she had, and even if she’d become enraged when Tessa Dukes had succeeded where she had failed, it still didn’t prove she had killed Tessa.

  There seemed to be even more people in court today. The press and public galleries were jammed full, so too were the benches for witnesses and counsel. Shelley was wearing the navy suit again, this time with a rose-pink shirt. Her demeanour was composed, her dignity was quiet and modest. She knew that many were still disturbed by the shock that they might have judged her wrongly. Some were probably still resisting. But many had to be asking themselves if she really was the scapegoat here; if their beloved Allyson, who was so gentle, so caring and attentive to those in need, who had been a part of their lives for so long, really was the monster who had killed an innocent girl. Unthinkable maybe, but not impossible.

  There was no other sound in the room as she took the oath. Inside her was an emptiness that kept flooding with fear and foreboding. She looked at the faces of the lawyers as they swam in and out of focus. She heard her own voice, quiet and tremulous, then strong and entreating. Allyson was there, listening, wondering, waiting. How afraid she must be. How afraid they both were.

  ‘What time did you leave the office on the night in question?’

  ‘A few minutes before eight.’

  ‘Was anyone else there?’

  ‘As far as I knew only Tessa and Will, the editor. Everyone else had gone home.’

  ‘So no-one saw you leave?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else as you left the building?’

  ‘No.’

  So many detailed questions. About what she was wearing. The weather. The car she was driving. At what point she hit the traffic jam. How long she was held up. Where she was when Allyson called to say she’d be late. Did she have a gift for Allyson? Yes. Why? Because relations had been strained between them lately, and she wanted to do something to repair them.

  ‘Why were relations strained?’

  ‘Because of my affair with Allyson’s husband. And then hers with Mark Reiner.’

  ‘So you were jealous of her affair with Mr Reiner?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was the gift you were hoping would restore the friendship between you and Mrs Jaymes?’

  ‘A Lalique clock. Allyson had always loved it.’

  The lawyer turned away for a moment to speak to junior counsel. Shelley’s eyes moved across the courtroom. Faces passed in a blur until finally she was looking at Allyson. Her face was pale, but her eyes didn’t falter from Shelley’s. Suddenly Shelley felt a hot, uncontrollable rage well up inside her and before she could stop herself she was shouting, ‘Ask her where the clock is now. Ask her! She knows where it is!’

  The judge was calling for order. His reprimand was short and harsh. Her lawyer’s eyes showed his dismay.

  Her head was spinning. She was shaking. She needed to get away.

  The pressure never eased up. The questions kept on coming.

  Had she really been in that traffic jam? Wasn’t the truth that after she had brutally killed Tessa Dukes, while wearing Allyson Jaymes’s make-up gown, she had driven back to her home in Kensington? The record showed that the roads between Fulham and Kensington were unaffected by the traffic jam, so she could have made the journey in under twenty minutes. That allowed her plenty of time to clean herself up, and the car, dispose of the clothes she was wearing, make a parcel out of the murder weapon and make-up gown, and drive over to the restaurant to meet Mrs Jaymes.

  ‘Was it your suggestion that Mrs Jaymes should wait until later to open the gift?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It had been an emotional day. She looked exhausted and she seemed agitated about something, so I thought it might be better to wait.’

  ‘When the call came to tell you Tessa had been murdered, why did you suggest you return to the office in Mrs Jaymes’s car?’

  ‘Because she was parked the closest.’

  ‘Not because you didn’t want her to see that you had a hire car?’

  ‘I thought we should get there as quickly as possible, and I’d had to park several streets away.’

  ‘Going back to the gift. You say it was a Lalique clock.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How much would such a clock be worth? Roughly.’

  ‘That particular clock, somewhere between twenty and thirty thousand pounds.’

  There was an audible gasp, followed by murmurs that were silenced by the judge.

  ‘A very generous gift.’

  ‘Our friendship meant a great deal to me.’

  ‘So, Ms Bronson, where is the clock now?’

  Shelley’s eyes returned to Allyson. Allyson was watching her. The tension between them cut through the room like blades of light. ‘I don’t know,’ Shelley answered.

  It wasn’t over yet. Her innocence, like Allyson’s, was far from established. Nothing had yet been said either to prove or disprove any of her claims. The means and opportunity were still as easily hers as Allyson’s. But what about the motive? Didn’t that start with her self-confessed affair with Bob Jaymes? Wasn’t it the truth that she had been trying to break up his marriage for years?

  ‘How did you feel when you discovered that Mr Jaymes was sleeping with his wife’s nineteen-year-old assistant?’

  ‘Upset for Allyson.’

  ‘Were you still engaged in a relationship with him yourself at that time?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who broke off your affair? You or Mr Jaymes?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Mr Jaymes has testified that he did.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘Who contacted the press to expose Mr Jaymes’s affair with Tessa Dukes?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I thought Allyson should find out what kind of man she was married to.’

  ‘Couldn’t you simply have told her that?’

  ‘I could have.’

  ‘Was it because you wanted to punish Mr Jaymes that you did it through the press?’

  ‘Possibly.’


  ‘And you wanted to punish him because he’d rejected you?’

  ‘No.’

  The lawyer allowed his scepticism to hang in the air, before moving on to her relationship with Mark Reiner. She’d already heard Mark testify to the power and immediacy of their attraction, and she said nothing to contradict it. Nor did she deny that she was jealous when she found out that Mark had transferred his affections to Allyson. It was all true, but none of it made her a killer.

  ‘How did you feel when you realized that Tessa Dukes was in Mr Reiner’s hotel room?’

  ‘Upset, for Allyson.’

  ‘Like you were when you found out about her husband’s affair with Tessa? When you alerted the press?’

  Her face turned hot. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘So what did you do this time?’

  ‘I told Allyson myself.’

  ‘And how did she react?’

  ‘She was extremely upset.’

  ‘What exactly did she say?’

  ‘That she wished to God the girl had never come into her life.’

  ‘Did you ever hear Mrs Jaymes threaten to kill Tessa Dukes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The lunch recess was over. Shelley was back on the stand. She was feeling light-headed, as though she had been there for days, maybe weeks. In some ways it was as though nothing had ever happened before this nightmare, and maybe nothing would ever happen after.

  ‘Did you harbour a hope that Mr Reiner might, at some point, rediscover his attraction to you?’

  ‘No. I knew he wouldn’t.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘He was in love with Allyson.’

  ‘Did he tell you that?’

  ‘He didn’t have to. It was obvious.’

  ‘So you didn’t think you could change his mind?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But if Allyson was no longer in the picture?’

  ‘Objection!’

  ‘Did you make an improper advance to Mr Reiner on the night of the party in Italy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t put his hand on your breast?’

  ‘He put his hand on my breast and I didn’t stop him.’ What did it matter that it was a lie? Who would ever know? And she’d had enough humiliation.