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‘I didn’t really know how I was going raise money, but then I was on the way to a class one day, and I saw Sarah Russell in the street with Geraldine Payne, and they seemed to be having – how shall I put it – rather an intimate conversation, and I suddenly thought, what the hell, that’s how I’ll beat Hugo. So the next day I went to Sarah’s office at Cornforth, and I told her I had a serious financial problem, and of course she wasn’t the slightest bit interested, so I asked her how Geraldine was, and that got her on the defensive, and I mentioned how they had seemed to be very friendly the day before in St John’s Street. Anyway, that changed her attitude.’
‘So she gave you the money?’
‘Yes. She gave me £400 the next day.’
‘So Sergeant Fox was right. You blackmailed her.’
‘I wouldn’t describe it as blackmail.’
‘What the hell would you it describe as?’ Fox jumped in noisily. Joseph Tull was, in his book, an overprivileged, spoilt piece of shit, and he had no time for any of his pissing about. ‘You threatened her and demanded money. Would you prefer to call it extortion?’
‘What did I threaten her with?’
‘To tell her husband that she was carrying on an affair with Geraldine Payne.’
‘I did wonder out loud what he might think if he found out, but I told Sarah that her secret was safe with me. Then I said I had to go as I was late for a class. The next day, she summoned me to her office and gave me £400. She said it was just to say thank you. Those were her words. Just to say thank you.’
‘And what about the other £300?’
‘She gave me that a week later.’
‘And that was entirely out of the kindness of her heart again!’ Fox gave another of his harsh laughs.
Joseph Tull turned away from Fox and back towards Holden. ‘Look, if you want to call it blackmail, I don’t care. I’ll give the money back to Sarah if you want. It’s just that I have the theory that everyone has a weak point. Find that weak point, apply a bit of pressure, and then see what they do. That’s all I was doing. To be honest, I thought she was a tougher cookie than that. Hell, I don’t have any compromising photographs of the two of them snogging or anything. I don’t know for sure if they were having an affair. But she handed over the money readily enough. So, Inspector, the question you and your sergeant should be asking yourselves is why. Why did she not want her relationship with Geraldine Payne to become known to her husband? And does it have something to do with the death of my mother and the death of Sarah’s husband? Because one thing I do know is that I didn’t kill either of them, but somebody bloody did!’
‘Excuse me, Guv!’ All their heads turned. Wilson was at the door, and excitement was writ large across his face. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve found something on the laptop. Two things in fact.’
Karen Pointer shut the lavatory door behind her, turned the lock, and then leant with her back to the door as she tried to gather her thoughts. Her breath was coming in deep, harsh gulps, and she tried to fight it. Steady, she told herself, keep calm. Slow down! She was used to getting up close and personal to dead bodies, but not to murderers – assuming she was right. Lucy had used the word stiletto. ‘I need to know who stuck a stiletto into my father’s wife.’ The police had never used it in their news releases and interviews. They had made a conscious decision not to do so. They had merely referred to Maria Tull and Jack Smith being stabbed with a knife. But Lucy had said stiletto. Which meant either that someone had been talking out of turn or that Lucy was the killer. She had to tell Susan, but suppose Lucy was listening at the door? She pulled her mobile out of her pocket, found Susan’s number and called it. As she did so, she moved over to the toilet and placed her free hand on its handle. Damn! There was no ringing at the other end, merely the brief silence that signifies that the mobile you are trying to contact is turned off. The silence slipped instantly into the pre-recorded message. God help me! The words rose noiselessly and unsummoned into her head. The last thing she would have called herself was religious, but the words came nevertheless, surfacing from childhood perhaps, or from some deeper level of unconscious knowledge. God help me!
She pressed the toilet handle, and whispered into her phone. ‘For God’s sake come, Susan. I think it’s Lucy Tull, and she’s in my flat.’
‘Are you OK?’ called Lucy from close outside.
‘I’m fine!’ she called back. She ran the taps, and washed her hands, to make the charade complete. For a moment she considered staying in the toilet, the door locked, but that would be to give the game away. Lucy hadn’t twigged, surely, that she had made a mistake. All she had to do was behave as normal. She dried her hands, unlocked the door, and practised a smile. It would all be over soon.
They were standing around Wilson, who was hunched over the laptop.
‘They were hidden away in the system files,’ Wilson was saying. ‘They had been completely renamed, so they took a bit of tracking down.’ Lawson felt smug and irritated at the same time. Her hunch had been right. But it didn’t look like Wilson was going to admit that now. Later, though, she’d have words. ‘Here’s the picture of Jack Smith. And here’s the one of the classical rape painting.’
‘No sign of the Judas painting, then?’
‘No. Not so far. But I can’t be certain it isn’t hidden around here somewhere.’
‘Dr Tull, does anyone else have access to this laptop except for your family?’
‘Not as far as I know. But I hardly ever use it.’
‘And I’ve got my own laptop,’ Joseph added quickly.
‘Which leaves us with Lucy.’
‘What are you saying?’ There was alarm in Alan Tull’s voice.
‘Where is Lucy?’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Alan Tull was saying, apparently oblivious to the question. ‘Lucy wouldn’t do anything like that.’
Joseph looked at his watch. ‘She should be at work still,’ he said unemotionally.
