AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My faith in jury trials is limited. I’m well aware if push came to shove, I wouldn’t come across well: a trial has less to do with evidence than it does with emotion. Unlike Stacey or Harper, I’m notrelatable. It’s never worried me before: people don’t need to like their surgeons. But they need to like defendants.
‘Are you going to prison, Mummy?’ Peter asks.
Tom jolts visibly at his sudden appearance in the kitchen. Our son could creep into our bedroom and murder us in our sleep and we’d never even wake.
‘Not yet,’ I say dryly.
‘The police want to search my room,’ Peter says. ‘I don’t want them to take my things.’
‘No one’s taking your things,’ Tom says impatiently.
There’s a shout from upstairs. A few minutes later, DS Mehdi comes back into the kitchen holding my running hoodie.
‘Blood on the cuff,’ he says grimly to DCI Hollander.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, how many more times?’ Tom says. ‘My wife’s told you she was with Felix when he had a nosebleed. Talk to Stacey Porter. She’ll tell you.’
‘We have. Mrs Porter has no recollectionof it,’ DS Mehdi says.
The floor falls away beneath my feet.
‘What do you mean?’ Tom demands.
‘We asked Mrs Porter to confirm your wife’s version of events,’ DS Mehdi says smoothly. ‘She says there was no such occurrence as Mrs Downton described. In fact, she said as far as she’s aware her husband hasneverhad a nosebleed.’
Tom looks at me sharply.
‘That can’t be right,’ I say stupidly. ‘She must remember. It was the same day she told me she and Felix were pulling out of the house sale. He had a bad nosebleed – she said he often had them when he was stressed.’
‘There’s something else,’ DS Mehdi says, handing an object to the other detective. ‘We found this in one of the cupboards upstairs.’
DCI Hollander examines it and then shows it to me. ‘Do you recognise this phone, Mrs Downton?’
It doesn’t belong to either of the children: they have very distinct phone cases. This one is plain black and glossy. ‘No,’ I say. ‘But one of the kids’ friends could have left it behind. They’re in and out of the house all the time.’
He flips it around, so that I can see the back. In the centre is a dull gold logo with which we’ve all become familiar in the last couple of weeks: Copper Beech Financial.
Felix’s phone.
chapter 47
tom
I can’t accompany Millie to the police station: someone has to stay home and watch the kids. She’s attending a voluntary interview, so she’s able to drive herself there – no perp walk to a police car with the obligatory hand to duck her head as she gets into the back seat. It’s all profoundly civilised.
And bloody terrifying.
Millie insists she doesn’t need a lawyer but for once I overrule her and contact our solicitor, Andrew, for the name of a good criminal lawyer to meet her at the police station. It’s not easy to find one available at five on a Friday night: no doubt part of the calculation the cops made when they timed their visit. But we get lucky: a woman called Rebecca Miller agrees to represent Millie, though it’s going to cost us an arm and a leg. But it’ll be money well spent. You don’t have to be guilty to require legal representation. Things can be twisted and taken out of context.
Bloody fingerprints. Felix Porter’s phone at the back of our airing cupboard. A nosebleed the nation’s favourite morning presenter insists didn’t happen.
Millie, what did you do?
I think I know the answer to that one.
My wife is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but even smart people sometimesdo stupid things. I don’t know exactly what happened the day Millie went to the Glass House, but I’m pretty certain she killed Felix. I realise it should bother me more than it does, but I’ve known who Millie is for a long time. This isn’t the first occasion she’s taken the law into her own hands. Her sense of natural justice may not line up with what the world considers right or wrong, but at the end of the day she’s on the side of the angels. Whatever she did must have beennecessary.
Maybe they had a row that escalated and she lashed out; perhaps he struck first and she was just defending herself. Either way, she’d have quickly realised how bad it’d look for her, given their personal history. She’s a gambler, my wife: she’s not afraid to take a calculated risk. She’ll have weighed up her chances of successfully getting rid of the corpse against the danger of coming clean and not being believed. She has a strong stomach: I’m sure Felix’s body is never going to be found. And it’s very difficult – though not impossible – to convict someone of murder when you can’t prove there’s a victim.
