Who Killed Anne-Marie?

by CM Thompson

  “Maybe you should take a shower,” he said, trying to be as gentle as possible. He didn’t quite know what to say. He was sure, given how badly his wife was reeking, that she would feel much, much better after a shower, she would be easier to talk to, too.

  “Yeah, maybe.” A pause, she didn’t even twitch a muscle.

  “Then maybe we could go out.” He thought he saw her smile slightly, he took it as encouragement.

  “We could go see your brother or go out for lunch, wherever you would like to go.” He had been really trying that day, it had something to do with the expression on her face. She looked tired and drained, but there was something else there, something he didn’t like. A real expression of sadness.

  “Yeah that sounds good.”

  “So if you get showered and dressed, I will do the vacuuming and then we will go?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t want to rush her. Didn’t want to provoke her. No arguments today. He is trying. No raising his voice either but despite his attempts to be kind, she wasn’t moving. He went off to vacuum, and twenty minutes later he came back, but she was still sitting there.

  “Aren’t you going in the shower?”

  “Yeah, in a minute.”

  “I am ready to go when you are.”

  “Yeah. OK.”

  “Your brother is expecting us in thirty minutes.” That was a lie but he just wanted her to move or even to react. He hadn’t even called Peter at that point. He knew Peter would only say it’s an attention stunt and to ignore her.

  “Yeah. OK.” It was something in her voice too. Daniel didn’t know what else to do. Give her time, he thought hopefully, but an hour later, she was still just sitting on her bed, staring into space. She hadn’t even touched the bottle this morning.

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” He tried to change tactics, maybe he should call Peter, ask him to come here.

  “Yeah. OK.”

  The tea went cold, untouched at her side. Peter wasn’t answering his phone, Sherri was still on holiday. Daniel didn’t know what else to do. He had tried. He had been patient, tried to be kind, but she was annoying him now. It felt like she was playing a game with him but he didn’t know the rules of the game. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Why was he wasting his holiday waiting for her to do something?

  He thought about calling for medical help, but who was he supposed to call? What was he meant to say? I am worried because my wife won’t drink her tea? It all just seemed so ridiculous. When he went to bed that night, she was still just sat there but by morning she was herself again.

  Does he tell the officers all of that? It made him seem so uncaring and they want to point fingers anyway. It didn’t matter what she did or how crazy she drove him, everyone took her side. The officers stare at him, waiting for him to open his stupid mouth and continue incriminating himself.

  “I pushed her backwards, off me. She ran into my bedroom. I told her again that I was leaving again. Then I left.”

  “What was she doing when you left?”

  Daniel takes a deep breath and resumed his staring contest with the table. “I could hear her throwing things in my room.” She was screaming about how much she hated him. He doesn’t want to admit that he yelled back at her, yelled that he hated her too and that she better not be there when he came back. He doesn’t think she heard him anyway, he just needed to get out of there, before he did something stupid … Or before she really hurt him – never had he been so afraid of her and so angry at her at the same time.

  “What time was this?” They don’t believe him, he could tell. No one ever believes him when he talks about Anne-Marie these days. Especially when he talks about how violent she could be.

  “About 1 pm.” He should have just left her sleeping and gone out to lunch. He should have made sure he left before she got up. He should have done a lot of things differently, not just today.

  “What did you do after you left the house?”

  “I called Anne-Marie’s mother Sherri, she didn’t answer. Then I called her brother Peter. He didn’t answer either.”

  “Why did you call them?”

  Silence. Daniel’s hands quickly withdraw from his sides, moving to grip the armrests of his chair firmly. Colvin can’t quite see but she guesses his feet have also locked around the chair legs. Daniel’s body language has gone from comforting himself to restraining himself. It tells Colvin that Daniel is now rather anxious, these questions are unnerving him. Her real interest is why are they disconcerting? Why are they causing such a reaction? Is Daniel upset because he is facing the truth that his marriage was … what? Out of control? Long over? That he had no one to turn to? Was he trying to tell them something? Was he upset because he is looking more and more like the bad guy? That this interview isn’t going the way he hoped?

  “I wanted …” a gasp, a feeling of weakness chokes in Daniel’s throat. “I wanted them to take Anne-Marie away, just for a few days.” Daniel won’t admit he has failed yet another drunk and if Sherri or these officers hear the voicemail that he left Peter, they would think him weak and pathetic. Who was he kidding, they already knew. Weak and useless, that’s what his father used to call him – he can hear his voice echoing, “Weak and useless.” Daniel hates being made to feel this way, anger starts to bubble again deep in his stomach. “She was out of control, she was destroying everything! I didn’t know what else to do.” His fists pound against the table, surprising himself. He didn’t mean to do that, he didn’t mean to do a lot of things today.

  “Would you like to take a break?” Grimm offers, trying to sound kind. Third rule of interviewing, don’t react, don’t be threatening, don’t do anything that will turn a court against you, but be patient, and eventually the suspect will dig their own grave. Colvin inwardly sighs, just when they seem to be getting somewhere, Grimm starts to go easy on him.

  “No. thank you,” Daniel says quietly, trying to swallow back down the cocktail of rage, impotency and shame.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer present, Mr Mills?”

  “No, please continue.” Daniel’s body language reverts back to comforting motions, Colvin notices. He probably isn’t even aware of what his body is doing.

  “When you left the house, which way did you go?”

  Daniel closes his eyes, trying to remember. Left? Right? Straight? “Left,” he guesses. His voice is hesitant, he can’t say for certain, he had been angry, he had just wanted to get away.

  “What did you do?”

  “I walked around.” Colvin notes that they have returned to the minimal communications. Daniel does not want to talk about where he went.

  “Where did you go?”

  “I just walked, I didn’t really look at where I was going.” Traces of anger can be heard again in his voice.

  “How long did you walk around for?”

  “A few hours.” Daniel is defensive. He doesn’t want to admit that he stormed out the house with just his phone. That he marched around and around becoming more and more hopelessly lost, more irritated with Anne-Marie. He was going to leave her for good this time. It didn’t matter what she did now, she wasn’t his problem any more. He was going to divorce her this time. He stormed around in the hot summer heat; the more he stormed, the hotter he became. The hotter he became, the more irritated. The more irritated he became, the faster he marched, and the more his thighs chafed, the more sweat poured down his skin, making him hotter and angrier.

  “You just walked around for a few hours?”

  There is another embarrassed pause. “I got lost. I wasn’t really looking at where I was going.” Daniel had stormed round and round, inwardly promising himself that this was the last time he was putting up with this shit, outwardly not noticing a single thing. He couldn’t say where he walked or what he saw. He eventually found himself at a park, not a place he recognised. He continued walking, too angry to notice people whispering and pointing at him. He was too busy inwardly ranting to himself abou
t his misfortune to be stuck with such a wife, such in-laws, such a shitty job, reassuring himself that he deserved so much better to notice such petty details around him. Finally, he found an unoccupied bench and sat down, slowly deflating himself in defeated submission. He then spent around an hour sitting on the bench, watching all the happy young and old couples pass him by. They seemed to bounce in the heat, radiate the annoying happiness of those in love. Daniel, in contrast, felt like he had melted into a slug, leaving only a trail of sweat and sorrow wherever he slithered. “I sat for a while in the park … you know … to calm down.”

  “Mm mm.” Grimm makes a sound to show he is still listening, indicating that Daniel is to continue. They all know Daniel needs to say more.

  “I didn’t really know what to do. I just needed to get away from her.” Before something bad happened. Daniel knew if he had stayed in the house, they would be having a different conversation. He might even be the one on the autopsy table and Anne-Marie the one sitting here, with some explaining to do. He wishes that had happened instead, at least he would get some peace. He wonders idly what Anne-Marie would have done if he had left before she woke up.

  “Then what happened?”

  “Peter rang me.” The phone call caught him by surprise, Daniel didn’t realise that it was already past four. “I told him that Anne-Marie and I had a fight and I asked him to pick me up.” Daniel doesn’t know why Peter even agreed to pick him up. Sherri would have just left him there to melt. “I gave him the park name and he picked me up about fifteen minutes later.”

  “What time did Peter collect you?”

  “Around four thirty-ish, I think.” Colvin thinks Daniel had enough time to leave the house at midday, wander around, go back and have another argument with his wife, push her down the stairs and still have enough time to go back to the park for 4:30, that would explain why he is being so elusive about where he went. That’s if what he is saying about leaving the house at midday is true. It would explain why Anne-Marie had the time and the inclination to trash both rooms before her death.

  “Then what happened?”

  “Peter drove me home.” Daniel saw the scratches on his face for the first time as Peter was driving him home. He had been oblivious to the pain whilst he was marching around, but when he finally unclenched his jaw, his whole face throbbed; his feet throbbed too. Things are still throbbing now, in the interview room.

  It didn’t matter on the drive home. He had seen the look of sympathy in Peter’s eyes. He was elated. Peter had agreed to finally take Anne-Marie away with him. Peter agreed that he would help Daniel convince Anne-Marie to seek treatment. Sectioning had also been mentioned. Daniel had been so happy on that brief drive, things were finally going to get better. What a fool he had been.

  “We got home and Peter went into the house first to talk to Anne-Marie.” To make sure she wasn’t still an angry threat. Daniel isn’t going to mention that he had refused to get out the car until Peter agreed to check on his sister first, to make sure it was safe for him to get out of the car. “I noticed Peter had stopped in the doorway and I got out the car to see what was wrong.” He had got out the car with resignation, thinking what has Anne-Marie trashed now? He was just expecting to find a mess and her passed out on the floor again. “I saw Anne-Marie lying in the middle of the floor.” He looks away, the feelings of guilt and shame are finally making a reappearance. Daniel thought that she was just playing. He didn’t feel anything or do anything until Peter screamed at him to call an ambulance. “I called an ambulance.”

  “Did you touch your wife in any way?”

  Daniel could tell, by her eyes, her wide, staring eyes, the angle of her body, the blood, that there was nothing he could do to help. He was too afraid to touch her. Afraid that she was dead. Afraid that she was still alive. It is a blur what happened before the ambulance came, he can’t remember what he said on the phone, or where his phone went after he finished the call. His brain went on autopilot and recorded nothing.

  “No, I don’t know any first aid. I thought it would be better to wait for the ambulance.” They came within minutes but there was nothing they could do.

  “What did Peter do whilst you were waiting for the ambulance?”

  “I don’t … I don’t remember.” He remembers that Peter had also been afraid. Normally Peter is not afraid, he is dismissive of fear. They were both frozen in place, until they heard the ambulance siren. Peter kneeling beside his sister, Daniel standing at the door, both powerless to do anything. Daniel had expected to go back into the house, to have another screaming match with Anne-Marie, for there to be crying and more fighting, or to find Anne-Marie slurring at them from the bottle. He was ready for another fight, he wasn’t ready for this … then Peter had looked at him with those accusing eyes. Then the paramedics had shoved him out of the way and the police had ushered him here.

  Grimm waits for a few minutes to see if Daniel wants to volunteer any other information. He and Colvin both note that Daniel isn’t displaying any emotion, he seems to accept that his wife is dead. No regrets, no depression or sadness, just the occasional waves of anger and guilt.

  “You say Peter went in the house first? Did he have a key?”

  Daniel paused. Anne-Marie had lost her key and then she had taken the spare key and lost that too. Daniel didn’t want to bother with the expense of changing the locks. It’s not like they had anything worth stealing, except the television.

  “No, Peter doesn’t have a key, the door must have been unlocked.”

  “Did you leave the door unlocked when you left?”

  “I don’t remember. I thought I had closed it.”

  “Is the front door often left unlocked?”

  “Yes, my wife keeps losing her key, so sometimes she doesn’t bother locking the door.” Sometimes she is too drunk to remember to lock the door. Colvin finds this hard to believe, everyone in this city locked their door religiously now, after a serial killer brutally struck two years ago. Locked, bolted, sometimes even barred. Even she, a relative newcomer to the city, took extra precautions.

  “So to clarify, you and your wife started fighting around midday, she had already been drinking and became quite aggressive. The fight turned physical, you tried to restrain her and then you pushed her backwards. She then went into your room and started breaking things. You left the house around 1 pm and didn’t return until after 4.30 pm, when your brother-in-law Peter brought you back? Is that correct?” Colvin asks, slightly too sharply.

  “Yes.” A barely audible squeak. For it to be put in those terms is embarrassing.

  “Is there anything you would like to add or clarify?”

  Daniel opens and closes his mouth repeatedly. What does he say? I didn’t expect to come home and find her dead? I thought she was just messing around, that women seek revenge in petty ways sometimes? I know what you are thinking and I didn’t do it?

  “I would never hurt her.” Oh, how often the officers have heard that one. Daniel doesn’t add how often she would hurt him but he would never hurt her, except in self-defence. He would never hit a woman. His mother had been adamant in teaching him that. Colvin notes that Daniel seems agitated now, almost desperate.

  “Have you and your wife fought like this before?” Daniel’s eyelids flutter rapidly, and he places his hands down and across himself, giving the impression he is hugging himself. Both officers note that this is another question that has caused Daniel discomfort.

  “We have fought a few times, yes.” Nearly every single fucking day. Why didn’t he leave? Why didn’t she leave? How did it come to this?

  “Has the fight turned physical before?”

  “A few times.” More and more often. Only last month Anne-Marie head-butted him right in the nose and he still hasn’t forgiven her for it. It was a blow without warning, and then, as blood trickled down his face, she had just laughed, laughed and laughed. The laughter of someone who had completely drunk their mind away. He had left her laughing,
to try and stop the bleeding. In fact it took longer for her to stop laughing than it did for him to stop bleeding. When she asked him, the next day, in front of Sherri, what had happened to his nose, he didn’t know what to say. Was she bragging or did she genuinely not remember? In the end he had mumbled something about tripping and changed the subject – oh shit, he has paused too long, they are going to think he was abusing her. Shit, shit, shit! What does he say?

  “My wife could be a little aggressive when she was drunk,” he finally stammered.

  “What was the cause of these fights?”

  “Her drinking mostly.” Daniel flinches at this question, as he could envision his wife screaming at him from the corner of the room, screaming that he was the cause of the fights, because he was an asshole! A stick in the mud! Stuck-up shit-head!

  “Were you going to leave your wife?”

  Oh, how often he had come so close to leaving, despite everyone telling him that she needed his help, that she needed him. The last time, he had packed an overnight bag and paused, trying to decide where to go. He could hear Anne-Marie singing drunkenly in her room, “Then I went and fucked it all.” She sang with that sad, defeated tone that agreed, yes, she really had fucked it all this time. Then she started to cry. He made it outside the house but made the mistake of going back inside, to comfort her. Something inside him just wanted to hug her and tell her it was OK. But he was too late, she had passed out before he made it back upstairs: but still, defeated, he unpacked. He had nowhere else to go.

  “My wife had some problems, but we were getting …” Daniel had been about to say, we were getting through it, but they all knew that was a lie. What else could he say? “We were getting help” is also an unbelievable lie, but what else could he say? What did they want to hear? Daniel trails off and there are a few moments of silence. “We were staying together,” he finally mutters pathetically.

  Grimm continues to wait. Don’t machine-gun question is rule number four of interviewing. He waits to give Daniel time to elaborate or even confess, he feels that Daniel wants to say something else. The anger, the defences he saw at the start of the interview are crumbling. Either he is afraid of incriminating himself or he is afraid of the truth. Colvin thinks Daniel is sweating guilt.