Disordered Minds

*27*

SPICER & HARDY'S OFFICES, WEST LONDON

WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2003, 2:30 P.M.

Jonathan waited for George to take a seat, then dropped into the spare visitor's chair and surveyed his friend with amusement. "You look like the cat that's got the cream," he said. "Let me guess. You've managed to double the advance?"

"Bugger off," said Andrew.

"Don't tease," said George as she settled herself in the other chair.

Jonathan's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Then it must be the clash of the Titans. Tall, glamorous actor-stud with full head of hair loses out to short, fat, bald bloke with embarrassing parents."

George wagged a finger at him. "Embarrassing friends more like. I don't recall you rushing to talk about your love life."

"Mine's nonexistent."

"That's not what I've heard," said Andrew. "Who's this Mongolian bareback rider that George keeps talking about?"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" said George crossly. "You're like a couple of children."

Andrew dropped her a wink. "How's the radiotherapy going?"

"Fine," she said, "apart from Jon's chauffeuring skills. I'm not at all convinced his license is genuine. We spend most of our time reversing."

"It's worse than driving Miss Daisy," groaned Jonathan. "Yack, yack, yack from the backseat-and me expected to tug my forelock so the nurses'll treat her like royalty. I wouldn't mind if we weren't using that miserable old rust bucket of hers." He leveled his forefinger at Andrew. "I'm not just the official chauffeur, you know, I'm also the resident gigolo. The neighbors are having a field day."

George's eyes sparkled. "That's such a lie. He's told everyone he's my son."

"Except they don't believe it. They're much happier thinking their upright local councillor has moved a black toyboy into her mock-Tudor semi. It's doing her reputation no end of good." He pulled a face, as if living with George had taught him to ape her mannerisms. "It's like sharing a house with a Mexican bean. She gets zapped with X-rays in the morning and bounces around all afternoon. When she's not on the phone, tracking down witnesses, she forces me onto the streets to get a sense of location. It's wearing me out."

Andrew watched spots of pleased color brighten George's cheeks. "I can't let you do everything," she protested. "I have to earn my fifty percent."

"Less Andrew's ten," Jonathan reminded her, "which he seems to think he earned by entertaining a mad woman for half an hour ... and swallowing everything she told him hook, line and sinker, not to mention being charmed out of his socks."

Andrew grinned. "Some of it was true."

"Such as?"

"There was blood on Grace's windows by the Tuesday evening."

"There's only her word for that. Roy Trent denies it."

"The police believe her. Otherwise he wouldn't have been charged."

Jonathan bared his teeth. "I'd rather believe Roy. At the moment Louise looks like she's washing her hands of both murders."

Andrew looked inquiringly at George. "She's squeaky clean," she agreed with a sigh. "All she's admitted to is persuading Grace to unlock her door on Monday, then running away once the boys gained entry. Roy's been under the microscope since they found poor Cill's skeleton with the remains of the balled gag still in her mouth. They're being very cagey about the chances of recovering any DNA off it-probably vanished now-but it supports the version that Louise gave."

"Then perhaps she's innocent," said Andrew. "It makes sense that she went back to Grace's house on the Tuesday to check that everything was all right ... and only started throwing fits and fainting when she realized it wasn't."

"It's not credible," said Jonathan irritably. "Why would Roy and his friends want to murder Grace? Even Louise says they were hiding behind the shed-so there's no evidence Grace ever saw them. Louise is the one with the problem, because she took Cill out of the house."

"I'm playing devil's advocate," said Andrew mildly. ''However much you dislike Louise, you must at least weigh her innocence in the balance. You're the one who'll be complaining when Jeremy Crossley accuses you of 'flawed analysis.' " He tapped his forefingers together. "How does Louise explain it?"

"By playing the abused-child card. She was a damaged thirteen-year-old with rectal bleeding ... confused about why Cill hadn't returned home ... turned to her only friends, the boys, who told her the police would give them another grilling if they didn't persuade Grace to keep her mouth shut as well. Of course she worried that they'd killed her when she saw the blood on the window ... but then Howard was arrested and she realized they couldn't have done." He arched a sardonic eyebrow. "The DS in charge finds her very convincing."

"What's Fred Lovatt's view?" Andrew asked George.

"Deeply skeptical-but he's prejudiced in our favor. Poole police are milking her for all she's worth because it's her testimony that will convict Roy. She's very cunning," George finished with reluctant admiration. "Each new statement gives the police a little more of what they want while Roy's are so full of holes you can drive a coach and horses through them."

"Mm." Andrew looked from one to the other. "So what's the problem? Why are you here?"

"We want to name her in the book as the main instigator in the murder of Cill Trevelyan and the only murderer of Grace Jefferies," said Jonathan.

"Can you prove she murdered Grace?"

"No. The police have lost or destroyed the physical evidence from Grace's house."

"Then she'll sue," said Andrew.

"That's the idea," murmured George. "As things stand at the moment she'll get Colley Hurst's damages, compensation from the state for the abuse she suffered in childhood and a small fortune off the newspapers for selling her story. It's so unjust."

Andrew shook his head. "And another small fortune off your publisher when she wins. They'll never go for it."

"Then find us a publisher who will." George urged him. "She might just as well have persuaded Roy to murder Howard as well. The end result was the same." She leaned forward. "Do you know what I find most appalling? The way she uses her father's abuse to excuse all her actions. He was a disgusting man-and I would never condone what he did to her-I even have sympathy for her when I consider her objectively-" she sighed-"but hundreds of children a year are abused by their parents, and they don't become murderers. Look at Roy. He was as damaged as she was, but he's not claiming his father was responsible for what he did to Cill."

"Are you feeling sorry for him, George?"

She pulled one of her gargoyle faces. "Yes," she admitted. "Whatever Louise says, I don't think Roy and his friends murdered Grace. Only one person took a bath in Grace's tub that day and only one pair of gloves was recovered. There'll be as gross a miscarriage of justice the second time round as there was with Howard. At least Roy tried to learn from his mistakes. He didn't abandon his son. He honored Robyn's wishes to keep the pub and pass it on to the boy. His garage is a storeroom for Peter's possessions. He gave Louise a home ... gave Colley a home. He's watched over everyone in one way or another. Me, too, when I first got cancer. What he hasn't done is continue to destroy people."

"And Louise has?"

"Yes."

Andrew exchanged a glance with Jonathan, who knew as well as he did that no publisher would countenance a potential libel suit. "What do you think?" he asked his friend.

"She's guilty as sin," said Jonathan. "Her nature is pathologically jealous and deceitful. She loses her temper at the drop of a hat and provokes fights when it suits her. She's the only one who had anything to lose if Grace spoke to the police about Cill's continued disappearance. She wielded the knife herself and enjoyed watching Grace die. She took a bath afterward and got a buzz from doing it because the last time she was in that room was when Cill was washing hymenal blood off her legs." He shrugged. "The only thing we might be able to prove is a negative: if all she did was gain entry for Roy and his friends, then why did the police find no evidence of them?"

"What are you waiting for?"

"Advice," said Jonathan. "Neither of us has yet worked out how to prove a negative."