‘For almost a year, apparently.’
‘So he made a habit of it?’
‘Seems that way: lucky bugger.’
From the doorway Billington said, ‘We’re through with the body. Can we get it out of the way?’
A uniformed policeman further along the corridor looked enquiringly at Bentley, who nodded and said, ‘Please.’ The policeman, glad of something to do, began talking into his radio.
‘She said anything?’ asked Rodgers.
‘She’s in shock, according to the paramedic. She’ll know who the other woman is. We might as well go and find out.’
Both men were keen rugby fans and on the drive along the Embankment the conversation was about that Saturday’s international between England and Wales. Both had tickets. Rodgers, whose mother had been born in Swansea, offered a?5 bet on Wales, which Bentley took. They gambled between each other a lot. Bentley usually won.
‘If this had been a difficult one it could have buggered Saturday up,’ suggested Rodgers, putting their Scotland Yard identification on the dashboard as he parked in a consultant’s reserved space.
Jennifer was in a single ward. One of the policewomen outside the room rose at their approach and said, ‘They did the stitching under local anaesthetic. And the doctor insists there’s no shock. They’re happy for her to be interviewed.’
The second policewoman made room for them as Bentley and Rodgers entered the tiny ward.
Bentley formally identified himself and Rodgers and then said, ‘You’re Jennifer Lomax?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know why we’re here?’
‘Gerald,’ said the woman.
Hurriedly, anxious for everything to be kept in its proper routine sequence, Bentley recited the official caution before she could say anything more.
As he did so Jennifer frowned towards him, head curiously to one side.
‘Have you got anything to say?’ demanded Bentley.
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Jennifer. ‘It was Jane.’
Chapter Four
‘ Trapped you, bitch! ’ There was a laugh.
‘Go away! leave me alone.’ Terror jarred through her. What had she done? It didn’t make sense: nothing made sense. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know.
‘ Of course you know! ’
‘Go away!’
‘ I will if I choose to. But won’t if I don’t. And there’s nothing you can do about it! I can do whatever I like with you. You’re mine.’
‘Why?’ This wasn’t happening: couldn’t be happening. It was a dream, a horrible dream. A nightmare.
‘ You know bloody well why. ’
‘I don’t. Honestly, I don’t.’ Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to close everything out. Wanting most of all to close out the memory of Gerald’s slashed and bloodied body.
‘ Look at them. They all think you’re mad. That’s what everyone is going to think. ’
Jennifer did look, forcing herself, at the small ward window through which the two detectives she had refused to talk to without a solicitor being present were frowning in at her. And then at the two policewomen actually in the room with her. As she did so the elder, a sergeant, came forward and said, ‘What’s the problem, Mrs Lomax?’
‘ See!’
The tone that echoed in Jennifer’s head, in the Southern drawl she had forgotten, was triumphant. To the policewoman Jennifer said, ‘Nothing. I’m all right. Thank you.’
‘ You’re not. You’re possessed. But no-one is going to believe you because there’s no such thing as ghosts or possession, is there? ’
She could beat her, Jennifer decided: had to beat her, for Christ’s sake! If Jane was in her mind then she could read her mind – had already shown she could – so she didn’t have to speak: it was just appearing to talk to herself that would make people think she was mentally deranged.
‘ Of course I know what you’re thinking but that won’t do. I told you, you’re trapped: mine to do with what I want. And I will do what I want with you. So you’ll say the words for people to hear and they’ll decide you’re insane.’
‘Why?’ implored Jennifer, aloud and unable to stop herself. She’d spoken! No! No! No!
‘ You murdered me, you and Gerald. Bastards! ’
The accusation ended in a scream and Jennifer physically winced at the sound in her head. ‘I didn’t! We didn’t! It was an accident! You did it yourself: an accidental overdose.’
‘ LIAR! ’
It was a roar this time and Jennifer winced again and the woman sergeant came forward once more. ‘Mrs Lomax?’
‘I’m all right, really.’ Both hands and her left arm were heavily bandaged; a saline drip needle was strapped to her right hand. To gesture, which she did slightly, genuinely hurt. ‘The anaesthetic is wearing off.’
‘Do you want me to call a nurse? Or a doctor?’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘ You can’t begin to believe how bad it’s going to get. ’
Jennifer remained tight lipped. She had to think! Work it out. But she couldn’t think without Jane – the voice – knowing what those thoughts were.
‘ Don’t sit there like a little child, all puckered up. You’ve got to learn there’s nothing you can do to stop me. ’
‘I’ll find a way,’ said Jennifer, falling back against the supporting pillows, feeling the strength drain from herself. Don’t give up! Couldn’t give up!
‘ Of course you can’t give up. That’s going to be part of the fun. My fun. Maybe you’ll even go genuinely mad, trying to beat me ’
‘I will beat you,’ insisted Jennifer.
‘ I know you’ll try. Wasn’t that what attracted Gerald in the first place, the Jennifer Stone implacable determination to win in all things… even husband stealing! ’
‘We’ll see who’s the stronger.’ She needed help. But who?
‘ Indeed we will! ’
Jennifer was drawn again to the ward window by the arrival of more people.
‘ And here is your solicitor,’ announced Jane.
It was.
There were, in fact, two. Geoffrey Johnson, who led their way into the ward, was the family lawyer, a plump, usually smiling man who smoked oddly shaped and carved pipes and drove a vintage Bentley. That evening he wasn’t smiling. Momentarily he stood beside the bed, twitching towards a handshake he didn’t complete when he saw her bandages. Equally unsure of how to greet Jennifer, he instead at once introduced the other man as Humphrey Perry.
‘Criminal law isn’t my field,’ he apologized. ‘Humphrey’s our senior partner on the crime side.’
Perry was a tall, doleful-faced man with a hedge of black hair encircling a polished bald, egg-domed head. Unlike Johnson, whose suit was muted check, Perry wore a lawyer’s uniform of black striped trousers with black jacket and waistcoat, complete with a looped gold watch-chain. As he pulled forward the chair just vacated by the woman police sergeant, now outside talking to the two detectives, Jennifer saw that Perry had very long, skeletal fingers. At the end of the introduction he moved his head in acknowledgement but didn’t immediately speak. He didn’t smile, either.
‘ They’re frightened of you.’
‘Shut up!’ No! Shouldn’t have spoken; given a reply.
‘What?’ frowned Perry. He had a deep, sonorous voice.
‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ said Jennifer. Then, ‘Oh God!’ She hesitated. In a rush she blurted, ‘You are going to think I am mad but I am not. I know people saw me kill Gerald but it wasn’t me. It was Jane. She’s possessed me.’
Johnson coughed and looked down at the floor. Perry remained expressionless, taking a large legal notepad from a very scuffed briefcase. He said, ‘Who’s Jane?’
‘Lomax’s first wife,’ mumbled Johnson, still head bent. ‘She was diabetic. Died of an insulin overdose six years ago.’
Knowing she was blushing, fighting against the absurd impulse to giggle, Jennifer said, ‘She says I murdered her. That we both did, Gerald and I. Which we didn’t. It’s ridiculous.’
Perry spent several moments ensuring the lead from a silver propelling pencil protruded to precisely the length he wanted. ‘And Jane talks to you?’
Jennifer slumped back against the pillows again, closing her eyes against reality because this couldn’t be real. ‘I told you you’d think I was mad.’