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“At first, he was like any other bloke trying to impress a woman. Attentive, lots of text messages, emails, messages on the dating site. The magic wore off after a year or so and he became difficult.”
“In what way?”
“Possessive. It was okay for him to go out, but he usually wanted to know everything about where she’d been. Sometimes he wouldn’t let her go out.”
“How so?”
“It’s funny you should ask about this because the incident I’m referring to happened about nine months ago – so it wouldn’t be that long before the will was changed.
“He was out all weekend doing gigs, up in the North West, so he didn’t bother coming back, just stayed there all weekend. She came over here on the Friday after work. We had a night in, a meal, a bottle or two of wine.
“On the Saturday we did girly stuff, like shop all day. We arranged to meet up with friends on the night. We were getting ready. I slipped into the bathroom for something and she’d just stepped out of the shower. That’s when I noticed the bruises.”
“Bruises?” questioned Gardener. “Were they fresh?”
“Reasonably.”
“How could you tell?” asked Reilly.
“I volunteered many years ago in a woman’s refuge. I saw a lot of battered wives. I knew the signs. Women who were very quiet, and when pushed to talk would clam up, or they would blame themselves, never the husband. It was never his fault. He was under too much pressure. He didn’t mean to hurt her. I’ve heard every excuse in the book in my time. And I’ll tell you now, no woman deserves to be battered, no matter what the reason.”
“We agree with you, Carrie,” said Reilly.
“In your opinion, was Jane Carter a battered wife?” asked Gardener.
“Yes. I asked her about the bruises. They were hidden from view, you see, under clothing. That’s something else wife beaters do, hit them in places where you’re not likely to see it.”
“How did she react?”
“Like all battered wives. She made an excuse. She’d fallen from a horse during a lesson.”
“And you didn’t believe her?”
“No. She was my best friend, the closest thing I had to a sister, and I desperately wanted her to tell me the truth. I did the best thing I could. I supported her and told her that if she ever wanted to talk, I would be there for her, twenty-four seven.”
Carrie broke down into tears again. Gardener waited until she had regained her composure. “Did you know anything about the medication she was on?”
“She did tell me about the tablets. She had a terrible accident when she was younger, in the States. Apparently, there was an explosion and she came off a horse. It landed on top of her, causing her severe injuries, particularly to her liver.
“It was so badly damaged that it altered her blood pressure. Apparently, one side of her body had a reduced blood pressure flow. She had life-saving surgery, a pioneering operation that had never been done before. She had some kind of bypass valve fitted to circumvent her failed liver. The downside was the toxins. She reckoned they stayed in her bloodstream, creating real problems. She would have to remain on blood cleansing medication very possibly for the rest of her life. Which was why she was very careful with food and drink.”
“Did you ever suspect the bruises were a side effect or a symptom of that?”
Carrie Fletcher snorted and chuckled. “No.”
“Do you know if Robbie knew about her condition?”
“I’m not sure. He certainly knew something because one of the side effects was that Jane rarely felt like sex. That was a big problem for Robbie.”
“So you think he hit her because their sex life wasn’t up to much?”
“Who knows why he hit her.”
Gardener waited for Reilly to finish writing. He had learned a lot from Carrie Fletcher. “Do you know if he had any friends or relatives?”
“None that come to mind. I was never introduced to any, and Jane never talked about them. If you’re looking for friends of his I would start in the gutter.”
“So you have no idea where he might be?”
