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Authors: Sophie Hannah

Tags: #Thrillers, #Crime, #Suspense, #Fiction

A Room Swept White (47 page)

BOOK: A Room Swept White
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‘She didn’t?’ Charlie guessed.

‘According to Yardley, Helen didn’t want to give Hines the satisfaction of knowing he’d riled her. Yardley could tell she hated having Hines in the house, but she shook his hand and said, “Nice to meet you.” ’ Simon chewed his bottom lip. ‘As if she’d never met him before. And he went along with the pretence.’

‘Which is why Hines made no impression whatsoever on Stella White,’ Charlie reasoned aloud. ‘Because Helen treated him as if he were any old press photographer.’

‘Exactly.’ Simon nodded.

‘And then, last Monday, he turned up at her house a second time, and Dillon White caught a glimpse of him and recognised him from the “beyond” day,’ Charlie spelled out what she assumed was Simon’s hypothesis. ‘He stayed all day and ended up shooting Helen dead. Hang on, didn’t you tell me Angus Hines had an alibi?’

Simon smiled. ‘He does, or rather, he did: a man called Carl Chappell who said he was drinking with Hines at the Retreat pub in Bethnal Green last Monday between 3 and 7 p.m. When Sellers showed us that article from the
Sun
about Warren Gruff, Bethnal Green rang a bell. Gruff lives there, his ex-girlfriend Joanne Bew murdered his son Brandon there . . . but I couldn’t think where else I’d come across Bethnal Green recently. Then I remembered: Angus Hines’ alibi. Before we set off, I asked Sam to probe a bit further. Didn’t take him long to find out that Brandon Bew was murdered in a flat above a pub in Bethnal Green that used to be the Dog and Partridge, that’s now called the Retreat . . .’

‘Unbelievable,’ Charlie muttered.

‘. . . and that Carl Chappell testified for the prosecution at Joanne Bew’s first trial, claimed he witnessed her smothering Brandon. Sam spoke to Chappell – Angus Hines had given him Chappell’s mobile number when he’d offered up Chappell as his alibi. Chappell was drunk enough and stupid enough, when Sam leaned on his story about being with Hines last Monday, to boast about how lucky he was with money, said Angus Hines had paid him a grand in cash for the false alibi. He also said that someone else – a man he’d seen on telly a few times, a man he described as big and fair-haired with a big neck – had paid him two grand not to testify at Joanne’s retrial, to say he hadn’t seen anything the night Brandon died – he’d been too drunk.’

‘Laurie Nattrass?’ Charlie wondered out loud. Who else could it be?

‘Yeah. Nattrass.’ Simon sounded angry. ‘Mr Justice-For- All. He must have wanted Joanne Bew to be acquitted second time because he knew it’d look bad for Duffy – yet another innocent woman she’d testified against. And Chappell wasn’t the only person Nattrass bribed – he also paid off Warren Gruff, to stop Gruff breaking Chappell’s arms and legs when Chappell said he wouldn’t testify against Joanne.’

‘How the hell do you know that?’ Charlie asked.

‘Second phone call was Gibbs,’ said Simon. ‘Gruff’s confessed to attacking Jaggard and killing Duffy. He’s in custody, and talking – up to a point, at least. I thought the Brain – Angus Hines, that is – I thought he had some kind of hold over Gruff, but from what Gibbs says, it’s more a case of misguided loyalty. Gruff thought Hines was the only person who truly understood him – Hines had lost two children, he’d
lost one. Hines had been vilified in the press by Nattrass and various other commentators for saying he believed his wife was guilty, but he stuck to his guns. Gruff looks up to him. Which is why he killed Duffy – the woman who did her best to bring his son’s killer to justice – even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, because it was part of Hines’ great plan. Gruff admired Duffy, but Hines is his hero. He would have done whatever Hines told him – his role was to be the helper. That photograph Sellers showed us of Gruff, on the computer? It was taken by Angus Hines for the
Daily Express
, after Joanne Bew’s retrial, when Gruff was briefly newsworthy again. That was how Hines and Gruff met. Hines might have had some genuine sympathy for Gruff, who knows? Either way, he certainly knew how to manipulate him.’

‘You said “Hines’ great plan”,’ Charlie talked over him. ‘What was it?’

‘Gibbs says Gruff won’t say, claims he’s not clever enough to explain it properly. Says Hines’d never forgive him if he spoke on his behalf. Hines is the one who has to explain – it’s his plan.’

Charlie hated the thought that Gruff had admired Duffy but killed her anyway, when he could so easily have come to his senses at that point, listened to his instincts and said no. Why hadn’t his hero-worship of Angus Hines ended the instant Hines had asked him to kill someone he didn’t think deserved to die?

Charlie hadn’t told Simon that Duffy hadn’t wanted to answer the door to Gruff, that she, Charlie, had insisted, because she’d been too embarrassed to have the heart-to-heart the doctor seemed to want.

I’ll leave it
.

No, get it
.

Charlie had expected to feel guilty about Duffy’s death, but, oddly, she didn’t. She could imagine what Duffy herself would have said.
The life you failed to save doesn’t make you a bad person, any more than the lives you saved make you a good one
. Something like that, anyway.

‘Know why Angus Hines chose Carl Chappell to bribe for an alibi?’ Simon asked, glancing out of the car window at Stella White’s house. ‘Because he knew Nattrass had bribed Chappell.’

‘How did he find that out?’ Charlie asked.

‘Chappell told him himself. Hines tracked Chappell down, told him he’d been researching child-death cases that involved Judith Duffy as an expert witness. He wanted to know why the eye-witness to the murder of Brandon Bew had changed his story. For the price of a bottle of whisky, he got his answer. Chappell was pissed out of his head when he was trying to reconstruct what Hines said to him, but from what Sam managed to piece together, it seems Angus Hines had the idea of using the very same people Nattrass had used, but in the opposite direction – in a direction Nattrass would have hated if he’d known about it. It was one of his little power games – proving he was the one in charge of all the players on the board, not Nattrass. He said to Chappell, “I’m the one paying you now – remember that.” I reckon he picked Gruff as his killer-helper for the same reason: Nattrass had controlled Gruff previously, so Hines needed to show that he could control him even more effectively. Up to a point, that is.’

‘You keep saying that,’ Charlie told him. ‘Warren Gruff is talking
up to a point
, Angus Hines was controlling Gruff
up to a point
. . .’

‘Yeah,’ said Simon defensively. ‘Up to the point that as soon as we hint that we’re on to them, both Warren Gruff and Carl Chappell give up Angus Hines. Hines is smart: he knew that’d happen, knew he couldn’t rely on Gruff and Chappell to keep their mouths shut. He doesn’t care. He wants us to know it’s him – always has, right from the start. Hence the cards. He wanted to draw our attention to
page 214
of
Nothing But Love
because he knew it would lead us to him, assuming we picked up on his clues, which we didn’t at first. As I say, he’s clever. As a nickname for him, I was spot on with “the Brain”. He’s got a master plan and he’s looking forward to bragging about it – I only wish I knew what the fuck it is, and whether it involves killing Ray. If Sellers doesn’t get to Twickenham in time, or if Hines has taken Ray somewhere else . . .’

‘Sellers will get there in time,’ said Charlie automatically. She had no idea whether he would or not.

Simon shifted in his seat, rubbing the small of his back. ‘Hines must have guessed that Gruff and/or Chappell would give up not only him but Laurie Nattrass. I reckon he likes the idea of Nattrass getting done for perverting the course of justice – the irony would appeal to him. Nattrass supported Ray when Hines didn’t, he attacked Hines publicly for his failure to support her.’

‘It’d be his word against Gruff’s and Chappell’s, though, wouldn’t it?’ said Charlie. ‘It’s a non-starter. Laurie Nattrass’ll be just fine – his sort always land on their feet.’ There was something niggling at the back of her mind. She was about to give up trying to pin it down when it suddenly came into sharp focus. ‘How does
page 214
of
Nothing But Love
lead back to Angus Hines?’ she asked.

‘The third phone call was from Klair Williamson,’ said Simon.

‘Who?’

‘She’s one of the detectives on the Yardley–Duffy murders. I asked her to speak to Rahila Yunis, the journalist who interviewed Helen Yardley at Geddham Hall prison and says Yardley lied about the poem.’

‘Didn’t Sam say Yunis seemed reluctant to talk at first?’

‘Right.’ Simon nodded. ‘Well, now we know why: Yunis was withholding the most important part of the story. Angus Hines was there that day too, at Geddham Hall. He wasn’t supposed to be. The rules said no photographers, but Laurie Nattrass and Helen Yardley had briefed Yunis and Hines on how to break those rules, who to talk to at the prison to make it happen. A lot of the guards liked Helen and believed she was innocent, so they bent the rules for her – Hines and his camera were allowed in. The powers-that-be at the
Telegraph
were worried about Hines being the photographer on this particular job, given that he was famous at the time for denouncing his wife as guilty and Helen was equally famous for proclaiming Ray Hines’ innocence.’

‘Understandable,’ said Charlie.

‘Yeah. Except, according to Yunis via Klair Williamson, Helen Yardley only agreed to the interview on the condition that there’d be a photographer present. A particular photographer – none other than Angus Hines. Hines was equally enthusiastic. He and Helen Yardley were keen to encounter one another, it seems. When they did, each seemed so focused on the other that they barely noticed Yunis was there, according to her. For nearly half an hour she couldn’t get a word in edgeways.’

‘What were they talking about?’ Charlie asked.

‘Ray Hines. Helen accused Hines of disloyalty and tried to convince him of the error of his ways. Hines accused Helen of supporting Ray only as a way of furthering her own cause and underlining her own innocence, using Ray as a symbol for herself, or words to that effect.’

‘Interesting,’ said Charlie. ‘How do the two poems come into it, “The Microbe” and the “room swept white” poem?’

‘When Helen presented “The Microbe” as her favourite poem, Hines burst out laughing and accused her of being stupid. “But scientists, who ought to know, / Assure us that they must be so . . . / Oh! Let us never, never doubt / What nobody is sure about!” ’ Simon recited. ‘For Helen, the poem was about Judith Duffy’s arrogance in thinking her guilty, but Angus Hines pointed out that it could equally apply to Russell Meredew and the other doctors who testified in Helen’s favour. They were as convinced of their monopoly on the truth as Duffy was. The experts on
both
sides told the jury never, never to doubt what nobody was sure about. According to Rahila Yunis, Hines thanked Helen for introducing him to “The Microbe” and told her it was now also his favourite poem, because it validated all the doubts he’d ever had about Ray, Helen, Sarah Jaggard – all the women who cried cot death when accused of murder. Yunis told Klair Williamson that Helen was visibly disturbed when Hines said this, though until that point none of his comments seemed to have bothered her at all. Shortly after he mocked her choice of poem, she put an end to the interview. A couple of hours later, Laurie Nattrass was on the phone to Yunis, saying: “I don’t know what Angus Hines said to Helen because she won’t tell me, but I’ve never seen her so angry.” All Helen had told Nattrass,
apparently, was that Hines had made a fool of her, humiliated her. There was no feature in the
Telegraph
– Nattrass told Yunis to pull it, or she’d very quickly find herself out of a job. She believed he meant it, so she did as she was told. She doesn’t like talking about it because Nattrass humiliated
her
– terrorised her into dropping a good story.’

‘So Helen lied in her book about the poem that was supposedly so important to her,’ said Charlie thoughtfully.

‘She didn’t only lie,’ said Simon. ‘She stole. Well, sort of. “Room Swept White” is Rahila Yunis’s favourite poem. She told Helen that, before Angus Hines chipped in and pointed out that “The Microbe” didn’t mean what Helen thought it meant. Shit.’ Stella White had appeared on the doorstep of number 16 and was staring at them, a quizzical expression on her face. ‘She must be wondering why we’re parked outside and not coming in,’ said Simon. ‘Have you got the photos?’

‘Yep.’ Charlie climbed out of the car and stretched. Her knees creaked, as if she hadn’t moved for years. She was heading for Stella’s house when Simon pulled her back. ‘Once we’re finished here, you and I are going home,’ he said. ‘Straight home.’

‘Okay. Mind if I ask why?’

‘Yes.’ He turned away from her, shouted a hello to Stella.

‘Is it anything bad?’ Charlie called after him.

‘Hopefully not that bad,’ he said over his shoulder.

And then he was in the house and she couldn’t ask him anything else, not without being overheard.

Dillon sat hunched on the sofa, kicking it with his heels. ‘I dragged him away from his horse-racing,’ said Stella. ‘I thought you deserved his full attention for a change.’ Her son looked as if he thought otherwise, but he said nothing.

‘You look very well,’ Simon told Stella. ‘Better than when I last saw you.’

‘I’m in remission,’ she said. ‘Just found out today. Can’t quite believe it, but there you go.’

‘Well done.’ Charlie beamed at her.
Straight home
: it could only mean one thing . . .

‘Hi, Dillon,’ said Simon awkwardly.

‘Hello,’ the boy replied in a monotone. Charlie wasn’t sure which of them was winning on the social skills front.

Simon held out his hand for the photos and she gave them to him. ‘I’m going to show you some photographs,’ he told Dillon. ‘I’d like you to tell me who they are.’

Dillon nodded. One by one, Simon showed him the pictures, starting with Glen Jaggard. ‘Don’t know,’ he said. Sebastian Brownlee also got a ‘Don’t know.’

‘What about this one?’ Simon held up a picture of Paul Yardley.

BOOK: A Room Swept White
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