‘Oh,’ he said blankly. ‘Well, yes, she phoned me and said she wanted to see me. Could she come over, she asked. Steph had gone to work, fortunately. But I was doing a bit of painting and I didn’t want to break off. I said I was busy. She said it was really important and she must see me. So I said OK, I’d meet her later. We agreed ten o’clock, in the fairground opposite the North Pole.’ He moved restlessly. ‘I was thinking this might be a good opportunity to break up with her, and it would be easier in a crowded place like that, where she couldn’t make a fuss.’
‘Good thought,’ said Slider drily.
‘But when I met her, she started talking about us, and our relationship and all that sort of thing, and how much she loved me, and next thing she was asking me when I was going to leave my wife for her.’
‘Amazing.’
‘I’d never said anything to her about that! Never so much as mentioned marriage! Well, I didn’t want a scene, so I tried to put her off gently, but she wouldn’t change the subject. Went on and on about it. Eventually I got fed up and, well, lost my temper a bit, and we ended up shouting at each other. And then she tells me she’s having a baby.’
‘How did you react to that?’
‘I was dumbfounded. I mean, we’d always used a condom. I said I didn’t see how she could possibly hold me responsible for her condition. I said she must have been seeing someone else. She started crying. She said she loved me, and that there wasn’t anyone but me. She said condoms weren’t always reliable. She begged me to leave my wife and marry her. She said her father would kill her otherwise. I said I was sorry for her but there was no question of it. It went on like that for a bit. We’d walked right to the back of the fair by that time, where the caravans and lorries are. Finally she rushes off in tears, runs away across the Scrubs.’
‘Why didn’t you follow her?’
‘I didn’t want to get into it all over again. I thought she’d calm down and just go home in the end. She was heading in the right direction. I didn’t want any more trouble.’ He seemed to see something in Slider’s face and went on, self-exculpatory. ‘I was angry, if you want to know. I knew if I went after her there’d be an even worse row. I thought it best to go home. I’d . . . I’d had a few drinks during the evening.’
‘Drinks?’ Slider queried.
Markov looked at him, and then shrugged. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter now. You know about it anyway. All right, I was a bit wired. I’d had a couple of lines. I generally do a bit when I’m working. It helps clear my mind, gives me an edge.’
‘I see. And what happened then?’
‘Well, I was still angry when I got home. And worried. I paced about a bit. I had a couple of stiff drinks, to bring me down. And then she phoned again. She said she was at Old Oak Common, and she couldn’t go home because she was supposed to be staying over with friends that night. She said if she went home at this time of night when she wasn’t expected, it would all come out, and her father would kill her and then come after me. She wanted me to pick her up and drive her to her friend’s house. I didn’t see any way out of it, so I went.’
‘She was waiting by the side of the road when you went past,’ Slider said. ‘You drove on under the bridge and stopped, and she came and got in.’
Markov blinked. ‘How do you know?
‘There were witnesses.’
‘I didn’t see anyone.’
‘Never mind, they were there. Go on.’
‘Well, she got in, and I asked where did she want to go. She started crying again, and said she only wanted to be with me, begged me to marry her. I said I wasn’t going to listen to all that again. I said I wasn’t going to marry her, and she’d better get used to the idea. I told her she should have an abortion. I even offered to help her pay for it. She stopped crying, as if it was turned off with a tap. She looked at me.’ He paused, and shivered unconsciously. ‘I’ve never seen such a look on anyone’s face. I wish I could have painted it. She said she’d never have an abortion. And then she said, in this horrible, hard voice, that I’d have to marry her because she was going to tell my wife.’
‘Ah,’ said Slider. That was the last section of the jigsaw. He had wondered what it was that had triggered the final rage.
‘The blackmailing little trollop!’ Markov said, angered all over again at the memory. ‘She was going to ruin everything! And when I’d just offered to help her! She jumped out of the car and ran across the grass. I went after her. I shouted at her to stop, but she didn’t. I caught up with her and grabbed for her, but I only got the chain of that thing round her neck. It broke – cut my hand – but it jerked her off balance. I think the heel of her shoe broke. Anyway, she stumbled and I caught her arm. She turned round to face me. We were right on the embankment by then. She said nothing I could say would change her mind. Either I could tell my wife or she would, but one way or the other I was going to marry her. And so . . .’ He stopped. He didn’t seem to want to go on. He looked at Slider almost in appeal.
‘And so you killed her,’ Slider said unemotionally.
‘I didn’t mean to!’ he cried. ‘I was just so mad at her! I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought of the trouble she was going to cause me, how she was going to ruin my whole life. And Steph, too, she didn’t deserve that. She was blackmailing me! All that talk about love was rubbish! All she wanted was marriage, and she didn’t care who she destroyed to get it. I was so mad, I just . . . I just . . . well, before I knew what was happening she was dead. I didn’t mean to, I swear it. I didn’t mean to hurt her. Something came over me. If I could take it back, I would. I never meant to hurt her.’
The appeal was blatant now, and tears started to leak from his eyes again.
Slider looked at him without pity. ‘If you didn’t mean to hurt her, why did you take a pair of tights with you?’
‘What?’ He looked dumbfounded.
‘You strangled Zellah with a pair of tights. They weren’t hers, and I doubt you drive around with a pair of women’s tights in your pocket. So you must have taken them with you for the purpose of killing her. Which means it was premeditated murder.’
He stared, whitening. ‘No,’ he said in a whisper of a voice. He must have read his fate in Slider’s face, because he began crying in earnest now. ‘I’m sorry!’ he gasped through the tears. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Slider said. Sorry for yourself, he added inside his head.
They got enough of everything done by the end of the day to go for a celebratory drink in the British Queen. Emily joined them, and Joanna came, bringing the baby, so they sat out in the garden. It was a warm evening, the threatening storm having passed over without breaking. The landlord brought out a platter of sandwiches, pork pies and scotch eggs, the low sun flickered through the trees, there was a blackbird singing nearby. It was all very pleasant. George got passed around from hand to hand and had the time of his life. Everyone wanted to pet him, and he held court like a confirmed bon viveur, half a ham sandwich in one hand and somebody’s biro in the other, munching and conducting by turns.
Slider leaned tiredly against Joanna on the only bench with a back, and let the others talk. Atherton and Hart led the way in telling the story to her and Emily, though Atherton generously called on Connolly to add a sentence or two.
She had the last word of the story. ‘The tights were his wife’s, of course. She kept a spare pair in the car because she laddered so many at work. When Zellah jumped out to do a legger, she must’ve hit the storage bin yoke with her knee – it fell open and the tights fell out. He was so mad at her by then he picked them up and – well, enda story. We found the wrapper from the tights under the driver’s seat. Shoved it there when he got out the car, and didn’t shift it afterwards, the eejit. Don’t know if he was too stupid, too upset – or maybe just a stone mentaller who thought he could get away with anything.’