The Other Woman (13 page)

over again. ‘I fell off my bike.'
Lloyd stood up. ‘We know that's not true,' he said, then reached

over to the tape recorder. ‘I think you tried to rape her too, but

she fought back. So you strangled her. Interview suspended

twelve-thirty p. m.,' he said. ‘Think about it, Colin.'

Judy looked at the girl who lay on the bed, at the angry-red graze down one side of her face, and the even angrier eyes.

‘Miss Chalmers? I'm Judy Hill from Malworth CID,' she said.

‘I didn't send for the police.'

Judy sat down. ‘ No,' she agreed. ‘But you told your flatmate that someone had jumped you.'

‘Did I?' The girl looked away.

‘She phoned us and said that you had been attacked.'

The girl swallowed hard. ‘She had no right,' she said.

‘She has every right to report a crime, and I have every right to investigate it.'

The young woman's eyes looked back at her. ‘What crime?' she said.

Judy took a breath. ‘Look,' she said. ‘You and I are the only people in this room. And we both
know
that you were the victim of a rape.'

‘Do we?'

Judy tried to gauge what the girl's reasons were for denying that the rape had happened. There seemed to her layman's eyes to be no psychological block; one look at Bobbie Chalmers was enough to see the impotent anger that she felt. She wasn't denying the experience to herself, only to the police.

‘Do you know him?' Judy asked, her voice quiet. ‘Were you with him?'

Bobbie's eyes blazed at the suggestion. ‘ Of course I wasn't with him! He grabbed me from behind! He forced me face down on to the—' She broke off, her bruised face reddening, the fire leaving her eyes.

There was little point in apologising, but Judy did anyway. ‘Did he say anything?' she asked.

The girl's lips were pressed together with sheer fury at what Judy had just done; Judy was glad to see the anger, but it meant for the moment that she wouldn't get an answer.

‘Was he carrying a weapon?' she tried.

Still, no answer. So Judy just waited. She could hear the sounds of the hospital beyond the side-ward. Someone laughing in a corridor; a television somewhere, with what sounded like a cartoon playing; the lunch trolley going its rounds.

‘He had a knife,' the girl said quietly, her eyes blank now, blank with the misery of the memory.

Judy wrote that down. She had no witness to the conversation, and she couldn't use her notes if the girl wouldn't make a formal statement, but everything helped.

‘Did you see the knife, Miss Chalmers?' she asked, her voice as quiet and calm as she could make it.

She nodded.

‘Can you—?' Judy broke off. ‘It's Bobbie, isn't it?' she asked. ‘Your first name? Do you mind if I call you Bobbie?'

She shook, her head, fighting tears. Judy left her to it for a moment or two, while she looked through her notebook.

‘Can you describe the knife?' she asked, once Bobbie had got control again.

‘Flick-knife.'

‘Did you see his hands?'

‘Gloves. Black gloves.'

Judy thought before asking her next question. The other girls had been a different proposition; they had been hysterically pouring out details before anyone could sort them out. Their reticence would start when it finally came to court, but Bobbie's had begun already.

‘Could you describe the attack?' she asked gently. Their man had a definite method of operation. ‘ I have to know if this was the same man who attacked these other girls,' she explained.

Bobbie's lip trembled as at first she shook her head, and screwed her eyes tight shut. Then tears forced their way through the lashes, and she began to speak about what had happened to her, her voice low.

‘Did you see his face?' Judy asked, when the girl fell silent. She was trying to sound as much like a machine as she could; everyone was different, everyone dealt with the horror in a different way. Bobbie Chalmers didn't want a comforting mother figure. She didn't want to talk about it at all. She was answering the questions put to her, and the more impersonal they could sound, the easier she would find it to answer them.

She was shaking her head. ‘He … he wore … one of those—' She ran a hand down the length of her face. ‘You know. One of those—'

Judy couldn't prompt her.

‘Mask things. With holes.'

Judy wrote down
ski mask
. ‘Did you see anything else he was wearing?'

The tears were being wiped away, and the girl was fighting back again. ‘Dark clothes,' she said. ‘I didn't see him – he was waiting …' Her voice tailed off, and she gathered herself together once more.

‘Did he say anything?' Judy asked, her voice not betraying the importance of the question.

Bobbie Chalmers nodded, and told Judy what she had been waiting to hear, what all the others had told her. He had said the same thing to each of them.

‘Look, Bobbie,' Judy began. ‘I know you'll have heard scare-stories about the court proceedings—'

‘Are you saying it isn't like that?' Bobbie suddenly demanded, the anger turned once again on Judy.

Judy shook her head. ‘No,' she said.' ‘The defence counsel is trying to get his client off, and he'll use anything they think will work with the jury. But judges don't let them get away with too much – and you have a barrister too, you know – one who's on your—'

‘Do you know what I do for a living?'

Now she came to mention it, Judy didn't. She shook her head.

‘I'm a hostess,' she said. ‘In a night club in Barton. I don't sleep with the customers, but there are some that think I should. And it would be made out in court that I do – wouldn't it?'

‘Not necessarily,' Judy began.

‘No? You want to see the costume I wear? I'm asking for it, aren't I?'

Oh. Judy didn't have to see it. The question said it all, and she couldn't pretend it was the best background in the world. But this was different. ‘Bobbie,' she said firmly. ‘You were jumped. From behind. By a total stranger. You were the victim of a particularly brutal rape. Your lifestyle's got damn all to do with it!'

‘I'm not going to make a statement,' she repeated.

‘Was that where you were last night? At the club? Was it one of the customers?' She remembered the carbon monoxide. ‘ Was he in the car park?' she asked.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she shook her head.

‘Where then?' Judy waited; she had to know where the attack had taken place. They had to track him down from the locations he chose, amongst other things. So far, there were only two constants; what he did, and what he said. The attacks had taken place on different nights of the week, sometimes weeks apart, sometimes only days apart. The more that they could pin down as a pattern, the more likely they were to get him. Eventually, Bobbie would have to say something, like before. Judy wouldn't speak again until she did.

‘The Jetty,' she said miserably, after long moments of silence. ‘ I was getting into my car.'

The Jetty was the local name for the widest of the many alleys which ran through the blocks of shops in Malworth, and which was used as an unofficial car park in the evening. It was a new location; she wasn't sure whether that was a help or a hindrance to the investigation.

About how far along the Jetty were you parked?'

‘
I
don't bloody know!'

No. It just might have made SOCOs' job easier if she had known.

‘What time did it happen?'

‘About ten past nine.'

No hesitation about the time; that was a little unusual.

‘Bobbie –
do
you know who it was?'

‘No,' she said tiredly.

‘Then why not help me?'

She took a deep, deep breath and held it for a long time before releasing it slowly. ‘I'm going away,' she said. ‘Abroad. I'm not coming back here. I'm not going to any court.' She looked at Judy. ‘I'm not going to stand up in public and tell some bloody judge what that bastard did to me! So nothing happened. No one raped me. This is how I get my kicks. All right?'

Judy shook her head. ‘I can't pretend it hasn't happened, Bobbie,' she said. ‘You're his fourth victim. We have to catch him.'

Lloyd was certain that they already had. If Bobbie could be persuaded to attend an ID parade, they would have enough to hold him until they could get physical evidence, which they had in abundance from the other three victims.

One thing had occurred to her about the time; she had to find out. ‘OK,' she said gently. ‘Just one more question, and I'll go. It's important, or I wouldn't ask it. Have you any idea how long the attack lasted?'

Bobbie looked defeated when she answered. ‘Twenty minutes,' she said. ‘I thought it was hours and hours, but it was just …'

Judy frowned. ‘How can you be so sure?' she asked.

‘My car,' she said. ‘ You have to let it run with the choke out for a while or it just dies on you. So …' She bit her lip, then resolutely carried on. ‘I started the car, and the radio came on – the news was just finishing – they said it was five past nine.' She took a deep breath. ‘I got out and put something in the boot. I'd just closed it – he … he pushed me down behind the car.'

And the exhaust was pumping out fumes all the time, thought Judy, closing her eyes for a moment.

‘When he went away, I felt sick and …' She blinked away tears. ‘I got back into the car, and they were saying it was twenty-seven minutes past nine. I couldn't believe it … I couldn't – I thought …' She closed her eyes. ‘I thought it must be nearly morning,' she said.

Judy took a card from her bag and handed it to the girl. ‘Rape counselling,' she said. ‘It's a rape-victim support group.'

Bobbie let it drop on to the cover. ‘The hospital already gave me one,' she said.

Judy stood up. ‘Ring them, please, Bobbie,' she said. ‘ You don't have to worry about telling them what happened. It's happened to them too. And it'll help to tell someone. No one's going to take down any details and reel them off in court – you'll be talking to someone who really understands.'

Bobbie looked up at her, and shook her head.

Judy shrugged, and went to the door.

‘And if I get any more police here I'll tell them you're lying,' she said. ‘Have you got that? You can make me go to court, but you can't make me tell them anything!'

Outside the room, Judy found someone whom she took to be Bobbie's flatmate, hovering anxiously. ‘Marilyn Taylor?' she asked.

‘Yes. Are you the police?'

‘Judy Hill. Malworth CID.'

Marilyn looked at her apprehensively. ‘Was she mad at me?' she asked.

Judy smiled, and shook her head. ‘I don't think so,' she said. ‘Does Bobbie have any family round here, do you know?'

‘I don't think so. She's got a boyfriend – she's going away with him soon.'

Judy sighed. ‘She told me. She's not hoping to keep this from him, is she?' Marilyn shrugged. ‘I said I'd ring him,' she said. ‘She wouldn't

let me.'
‘And I don't suppose I'm allowed to know his name?'
‘No. She wants to handle it her way.'
Judy gave in gracefully. In truth, she didn't need Bobbie's evidence;

it was exactly the same as the others, and her indignant rage

wouldn't go down too well with some judges, who seemed to think

that it couldn't have been that bad if the victim was still together

enough to be angry.
She just hoped Bobbie
could
handle it.

Melissa had found as many things to do as she could, and still Mac waited. Eventually, she came back to her desk, and sat down.

Mac looked at his watch. ‘It's after one,' he said. ‘Why don't you let me buy you a long lunch?'

She looked up at him. ‘I'm not hungry.'

‘Neither am I.'

She frowned, a little puzzled for a moment, then closed her eyes briefly. ‘Don't be silly,' she said sharply.

‘What's silly about it?' he asked, his voice urgent. ‘My landlady's away for the day. We could go to my digs.' He looked to see if anyone was overhearing them, but the office was practically empty as people went about the business of news-gathering, with some real news to gather, so she had no protection.

‘Mac,' she said. ‘I'm married, I've never done anything like that in my life before … I'd had too much to drink on an empty stomach. Can't we just forget it?'

Mac shook his head, smiling. ‘I'll never forget it,' he said.

The truth was that neither would she, but this was just too much to take. ‘Look – that policeman is practically accusing me of murder, and you want to—'

‘Why is he?' asked Mac.

She gave a long, shuddering sigh. ‘ She worked for my husband,' she said resignedly. ‘And my husband reported me missing last night. So they want to know where I was. In case Simon and I are part of some plot to kill the girl, presumably – I don't know.'

‘What did you tell them?'

‘I said I was at the hotel alone. I didn't have much option, did I?'

‘Did he believe you?'

She shrugged. ‘ He seemed to accept it.'

‘So forget it. They'll get whoever really did it, and we can all relax.'

‘Last night was a one-off situation,' Melissa said in a fierce whisper. ‘It's not going to happen again, all right?'

The editor came back in. ‘Am I actually allowed to use my own office now?' he asked. ‘Oh – Melissa. Dig up what you can on the victim, will you? Schools, work, that sort of thing. Her address is on the board – her name's Sharon Smith.'

The name seemed to echo round the empty newsroom as Mac's eyes flicked towards her. She stared at the VDU; the editor went into his office, and closed the door.