Close to Death

‘You can never get it completely out of your system.’ May had got rid of the fear and anger when the accusations had been made. Now she was regaining her composure. Phyllis handed her a pouch of tobacco and she rolled a cigarette for herself with expert fingers and lit it. ‘The judge agreed with me,’ she said. ‘He said I had a submissive personality and that David had tormented me. Those were his exact words. He said it was because of David’s appalling behaviour throughout our entire married life that I’d been driven to such extremes and that I wasn’t entirely responsible for what I did.’

‘He still sent you to prison.’

‘That was because I’d planned the crime.’ Despite herself, she half smiled. ‘I planned it for ten years. The judge had no choice. But he felt sorry for me and he let me keep the money.’

‘You mean, your husband’s money.’

‘Yes.’

‘The Forfeiture Act of 1982,’ Dudley said.

‘You know your law! In normal circumstances, you’re not allowed to keep your partner’s cash if you kill them. You lose everything. But judges can make exceptions – and he did that for me.’

‘I never did believe your story about the rich aunt,’ Hawthorne said. ‘That sort of thing might happen in one of the books you sell here but never in real life.’

‘And let’s not forget Phyllis More with one o . . .’ Dudley said.

Phyllis squirmed. ‘Do we have to?’ she asked, feebly.

‘It’s best to have it all on the table, love.’ Dudley sighed. ‘You didn’t much like your husband either, did you! You smashed a whisky bottle over his head, doused him in petrol and set fire to him. They heard his screams a mile away.’ He shook his head. ‘If either of you two ever write your autobiographies, I rather doubt you’d be able to stock them here.’

‘I lost my temper,’ Phyllis said. Her eyes were downcast. ‘But you’d have done the same if you’d been married to him. He was a dreadful man.’

‘How did Sarah Baines find you?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘It was just bad luck. She saw us on the street in Richmond and followed us home.’ May glared at Hawthorne. ‘I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not ashamed either,’ she declared. ‘Nobody understands murder . . . not real murder.’ She waved a dismissive hand, drawing in the entire bookshop. ‘All of this is entertainment. It doesn’t mean anything. But Phyllis and me, we’ve been to a terrible place.’

‘New Hall,’ Phyllis said.

‘No, dear. Not prison. Before that.’ May drew on her cigarette. ‘You have no idea what it’s like to commit murder, the darkness that destroys everything inside you and consumes you. To take a human life. Not in a battlefield or a place of war but in your kitchen, your living room, in the home where you felt safe. In that single moment, it’s two lives, not one, that are finished.

‘You sit there and you feel euphoria. It’s over! All the anger and the rage has finally burst out of you. But then comes the recognition of what you’ve done, the knowledge that there’s no going back, the terrible fear of being found out, and, of course, regret. How you wish . . . how you wish it hadn’t happened. Have you read Thérèse Raquin? We have a copy here somewhere. You should take it with you.’ She paused. ‘All murderers regret their deeds . . . unless they’re completely insane. When I was in New Hall, and in Holloway before that, I never met a single woman who still celebrated what she’d done. There were some who pretended, but you could see it eating at them, day after day. I spent twenty-four years behind bars for what I did. Look at me now! I’m a shadow. Everything has gone. I have a son who won’t even speak to me, who lives in California and who probably regrets he ever came out of my womb. I have grandchildren I’ve never seen.’

She hadn’t finished the cigarette, but she stubbed it out anyway.

‘So now you know the truth, Mr Hawthorne. What else do you want?’

‘I want to know what Sarah Baines was doing with Roderick Browne.’ May looked blank so he went on. ‘The two of them had a relationship. He was protecting her . . . just like you were. She texted him while we were with him.’

‘I don’t know. She’s a devil. She was always taking money from us. She’d steal anything she could get her hands on.’ She gave a sniff of laughter. ‘Giles Kenworthy and his precious Rolex. I could have told him where to look on eBay.’

‘Is that why you went with her when she found the body?’

‘I wasn’t going to leave her alone with Roderick’s keys! He’d have come back to an empty house. I followed her there and we went into the garage together. I managed to wiggle the key out and open the door and there he was in his car. A horrible sight with the bag over his head.’

‘Sarah broke the car window.’

‘I told her to. Roderick wasn’t moving, but there was always a chance he was still alive.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I opened the car door and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one. We went back into the house and called the police.’

‘You did or she did?’

‘She did.’

‘She had her own phone?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re sure she didn’t see Roderick’s?’