‘They’ve had their rights read to them and they both have legal representation with them now. As you can imagine Tessa Welles is aware of her legal situation.’
‘Have you been in with them already?’
‘I was waiting for you.’
‘I came as soon as I could. I didn’t want to leave Michelle alone.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘For a woman in Hell, she’s all right. I called Jack. She knows and likes him. He’s not threatening. She finds the colour of his hair soothing. I said I’d go back later. And I’m going to call Andrew Berryman, a doctor who knows about Michelle. We’ve got to help her. She’s a suffering human being, not a medical curiosity. We can’t just leave her here in wretchedness and confusion and fear. We owe her that much at least.’
Karlsson looked at her with concern. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I used her as bait,’ said Frieda. ‘That seems to be what I do with people I’m supposed to be caring for. She was like a worm with a hook pushed through her and I did it to her.’
‘You got the fish, didn’t you?’
‘First, do no harm,’ said Frieda.
‘What?’
‘It’s the oath that doctors are meant to swear.’
Tessa was sitting in the interview room, her hands folded on the table in front of her, looking composed, although Frieda noticed that there were shadows under her eyes and every so often she licked her lips. The man who sat beside her was in his late fifties; he had a thin, clever face; his eyes were bright and watchful.
Yvette and Karlsson sat opposite Tessa; Frieda took a seat to one side. Tessa swung her head round and stared at her; there was a very faint smile on her lips, as if she knew something that Frieda didn’t.
‘Miss Welles,’ said Karlsson, courteously. ‘You understand your rights and that everything you say is being recorded.’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve been arrested on suspicion of the attempted murder of Michelle Doyce last night. We shall also be questioning you in respect of the murders of Robert Poole and Janet Ferris. Is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ said Tessa, in a detached tone.
‘Your brother is next door. We’ll be talking to him as well. We just wanted to hear your side of the story first.’
Tessa looked at him and said nothing.
‘All right. Perhaps you should hear our version of your story.’ Karlsson picked up a folder and leafed through it, allowing the silence to settle around them. The muscle in Tessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t move.
‘Robert Poole,’ said Karlsson, at last. ‘You met him in November of 2009, when he came to your office with Mary Orton, who wanted you to make a new will in his favour. You chose not to proceed. You mistrusted his motives.’
Tessa stared straight ahead, not meeting Karlsson’s gaze.
‘You were quick to recognize that,’ said Frieda. ‘It was impressive.’
‘But then you saw him again,’ continued Karlsson. ‘What happened?’
‘I’ve nothing to say,’ said Tessa.
‘It won’t matter.’ Karlsson turned to Frieda. ‘What do you think happened?’
‘We’re not here to listen to speculation,’ said the solicitor. ‘If you have questions to put to Miss Welles, then go ahead.’
‘I’m inviting Dr Klein to put a scenario to your client. That’s a kind of question. She can then confirm or deny it.’ He looked at Frieda, who had been thinking hard.
She pulled a chair over from the wall and sat beside Karlsson, facing Tessa. Now Tessa stared at Frieda. For a moment she thought of the children’s game where you had to stare at each other and try not to laugh.
‘I never met Robert Poole,’ Frieda said. ‘I’ve never even seen a photograph of him. At least, not when he was alive. But I’ve met so many people he got involved with that I almost feel I knew him. When you refused to execute the will, most people would have felt humiliated or exposed but he would have been intrigued by you. He was used to having power over people, but you’d escaped him. You were a challenge. So he got back in touch. What did he say? Perhaps he wanted to explain the situation to you, show you it wasn’t the way you thought.
‘You were intrigued as well, and a bit amused. There was something charming about the way he just wouldn’t give up. So you began an affair with him out of a certain curiosity, just to see how he worked.’
A contemptuous smile formed on Tessa’s face. ‘That pornographic fantasy says more about you than it does about me,’ she said.
‘And then he fell for you. He saw you as a kindred spirit. You encouraged him, and he told you about Mary Orton, Jasmine Shreeve, Aisling and Frank Wyatt.’
‘And Janet Ferris,’ said Yvette harshly.
‘Leave that for a moment,’ said Frieda. When she resumed, it was almost as if she were talking to herself, puzzling something out. ‘There was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Jasmine Shreeve, Mary Orton, the Wyatts, his victims. They were obviously hiding things, in their different ways, and they felt guilty and ashamed and upset. They contradicted themselves. That’s what people do. They’re not coherent. Things don’t add up. But you weren’t like that. Your relationship with Poole was completely uncomplicated. You were the only person he never got to. It was just about the money.’
She glanced at Karlsson, who nodded.
‘Once you discovered how much money he had,’ Karlsson said, ‘and how he’d got it, the idea was simple. The best person to steal money from is someone who’s stolen the money himself because he can’t go to the police. Did he tell you about the money to try and impress you? So you and your brother decided to help yourself. Harry knew about bank transfers and setting up fake accounts. Con the conman.’
‘No,’ said Frieda.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It wasn’t just stealing stolen money,’ she said. ‘It was even better than that. When did you discover that he was using a stolen identity? Did he boast about it to you? Or did Harry discover when he checked up on him?’ Tessa just stared at her, but didn’t speak. ‘Because that’s even better,’ Frieda continued. ‘Not just stolen money that won’t be reported to the police, but stolen from a non-existent person, someone with no history.’
‘It wasn’t me …’ Tessa began, but stopped.
‘Was it Harry’s idea?’ said Frieda. ‘It doesn’t matter. You know, I’ve tried not to think about the last few minutes of Robert Poole’s life. You probably imagined that a threat would be enough, like in the old days when you could get a confession just by showing the instruments of torture.’ Suddenly, she felt as if she were alone with Tessa and her voice became quiet. ‘What was it? A bolt cutter? A pair of secateurs? But he didn’t believe you, did he? He didn’t think you, Tessa Welles, would really go through with it. So you crammed a rag of some kind into his mouth and then you did it. It’s hard to cut off a finger, the bone and the tendon and the gristle, but you, or Harry, did it and he told you what you wanted to know to get at the money. Then you strangled him. But that was easy after the finger.
‘But this wasn’t an improvisation. It wasn’t a Plan B. You knew about the Wyatts. You knew Poole had helped himself to her necklace. You knew where you were going to dump the body in order to frame Frank Wyatt.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the solicitor. ‘Is there a question somewhere in this?’
‘It’s all a question,’ said Karlsson. ‘Will Tessa Welles admit to it?’
The solicitor looked at Tessa, who shook her head.
‘Robert Poole’s flat was interesting,’ continued Frieda. ‘I don’t mean your painting, which was hanging in Janet Ferris’s kitchen. We know about that. I mean that you weren’t clever enough about the evidence in his flat.’