‘But you have no evidence.’
‘What makes you think that? David ran away, after all. That implies guilt, if you ask me.’
‘Jesus wept!’ Maureen slammed the palm of her hand on the table. ‘It could imply anything. Fear. Confusion. But actually, David ran away because of Jim. Do you know what that bastard did? He told David the truth.’
She paused, checking that she had got Holden’s attention. She had. ‘The other Sunday David told us that he had met his birth mother, his real mother as he called her. You can’t imagine how much that hurt me. But he was so excited. I tried to be calm. I asked him if he was sure. Sometimes David is easily led and I was genuinely worried that he had somehow got confused. It was the last thing that I wanted to hear, but I tried to not to show how upset I was. “She’s wonderful!” David kept saying at the top of his voice, and there was such a grin all over his face. Only Jim soon wiped that off. “Wonderful?” he screamed. “Your mother wasn’t wonderful, you stupid fool. Why do you think we got you, you bloody idiot. Why? Well I’ll tell you why. Because your so-called real mother was a crack head, and so was your useless father. The reason we were lumbered with you, was because both of them were constantly doped up to the eyeballs.”
‘David went crazy, calling him a liar, but Jim hadn’t finished. “I’
m not a liar, David. Just the opposite. I’m going to tell you the truth. Listen. I’ll tell you what happened. One day, when you were a little toddler, the social services came round to your parents’ flat, and they found you lying on the floor eating cat food. Out of the cat’s bowl! That’s the sort of mother you had before you came to us! She let you eat cat food, and she let you shit all over the floor like a dirty little kitten.” What he said … it was unforgiveable. I had spent a lifetime building my son David up, and in a few moments of utter spite he destroyed him. Because as far as I was concerned, whoever this other woman was, David was my son. I tell you, when David ran off down the road screaming, if I’d had a gun I’d have killed that husband of mine then and there.
‘I finally saw what a complete bastard I had married. I saw how I could never trust him. And, of course, you were right about those photos. They had really freaked me. Ask Ania Gorski. She told me about them later that day. She rang me up before Sunday lunch in hysterics, so I’d agreed to meet her. We’d hit it off at Sunnymede. She was very good to Nanette. She told me how they’d taken these photographs of her and Vickie on Saturday night, and how she was really worried about Vickie because of the way Greenleaf had been looking at her. I knew I had to do something to protect Vickie. So I killed them both.’
‘But not Nanette?’
‘No. And neither did David kill her.’
‘How can you know that?’
‘A mother knows, Inspector. I know David. David doesn’t lie to me. He never did. He topped up her flask with whisky that Sunday as he always did, but he told me he never put anything else in it. And I believe him. He had no reason to kill her. And in his own way, he was very upset when she died. He doesn’t show it, the way you or I might, but I know he was upset. He couldn’t have killed her. You’ve got to believe me.’
Holden leant over and clicked the recorder button off. She stood up, and brushed a crumb off the sleeve of her jacket. She gave the faintest of smiles to the woman who had just admitted two murders. ‘Actually, Maureen, in my experience, any man or any woman is capable of murder. And that would include David. But as it happens, I agree with you. I don’t think David killed Nanette.’
‘How are you feeling, David?’
The room into which Holden and Fox had just walked was significantly more comfortable than the one from which they had come. There were two people there already. David Wright was sitting on a sofa; he was wearing brown whipcord trousers and a navy-blue cardigan zipped right to his neck. He was rocking ever so slightly backwards and forwards. Next to him, her hands folded across her stomach, was Jaz Green; she wore jeans, a pink T-Shirt and denim jacket, and she looked up at the sound of their entry, anxiety smeared across her face.
‘He’d be feeling a lot better if he wasn’t stuck here.’
Holden acknowledged the criticism with a nod of her head.
‘You were very lucky, David.’ He didn’t look up, but she continued nevertheless. ‘For a moment, when you fell onto the track I thought … I thought.…’ But what she thought refused to materialize.
David looked up now. ‘You thought I was dead.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wish I was.’
Holden nodded again, but again found she had nothing to say.
‘What will happen to Mum?’ he asked. ‘Can I see her?’
‘Later. But first I need you to answer some questions. Is that all right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember when your Nan died?’
‘Yes. On a Tuesday night. I was listening to the football.’
‘Two days before that, she came home for Sunday lunch, didn’t she, like she always did. And you filled up her flask, David, didn’t you. Like you always did.’
‘With whisky.’
‘Did you add anything to the whisky, David?’
‘No.’