Deity

‘It was only that one time at his holiday cottage,’ she mumbled.

‘So last night it was Len.’

‘Yes.’

‘You had sex with him?’

Yvette grinned at Brook. ‘For what it’s worth.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that two minutes is all the old bastard can manage these days.’

‘You don’t sound very fond of him.’

‘I hate him,’ spat Yvette.

‘Then why did you have sex with him?’ No answer. ‘He demanded sex, didn’t he?’

Yvette looked down at the floor. ‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s a dirty old man,’ she replied sourly, looking at Brook with contempt. ‘Like all men. Like you. Wherever I go you look at my body as if it belongs to you. Lusting after me. You, your Sergeant, Adam, that dopey kid Wilson. You only want one thing and you won’t be satisfied unless you get it.’

Brook’s expression was unmoved by the accusation. ‘Does that mean you refused?’

The wind taken out of her sails, eventually she answered, ‘No.’

‘Because you didn’t have the upper hand any more?’

A pause. ‘No.’

‘Because he knew about Russell’s death.’

Yvette shook her head. ‘No. He didn’t know the first thing about Russell. Len wasn’t interested and never had been.’

‘But he knew something was wrong.’

Yvette sighed. ‘Me and Russell bumped into Len from time to time as he grew up. Small towns — you couldn’t help it.’

Brook nodded. ‘But when you followed him to Derby six months ago, he knew Rusty wasn’t his son.’

‘Yes. After Russell. . we tried very hard to make sure Len never saw Rusty and it worked fine until Len spotted him at Parents’ Evening. He came to pick Alice up and Kyle introduced them. He knew straight away he wasn’t Russell.’

‘So what did Len do?’

‘At first he threatened to stop the money, but then he seemed to change his mind. Said he was sorry, that he’d been hasty. A couple of days later he came round with the money, as usual. But instead of just dropping it off, he said he needed to use the bathroom.’ She laughed. ‘Well, Rusty was wise to that.’

‘He was there?’

‘No, Rusty was never at home, always out filming stuff in the streets. But he knew after meeting him that it wouldn’t take Len long to look for proof he wasn’t his father. And then. .’

‘No more money,’ finished Brook.

‘Right. So we were careful. Rusty’s bedroom was a fake — his idea. His books, his posters — simple. His room but he never went in there, not once, so he couldn’t leave DNA, hairs, that sort of thing.’

‘So you set the room up to make it look like his.’ Brook nodded.

‘And when Len called we knew he’d be straight in there looking for DNA. Well, it used to be his job, didn’t it?’

‘And when he went to the bathroom he stole Rusty’s toothbrush,’ said Brook.

‘No. Rusty wasn’t stupid. He hid his toothbrush in the bottom of my knickers drawer.’

Brook picked up an evidence bag and placed it down in front of Yvette. ‘This toothbrush?’

Yvette stared at it. ‘Where did you find that?’

‘Where you said. In your underwear drawer, in your bedroom.’

‘In my bedroom,’ she echoed.

‘Is that Rusty’s toothbrush?’ Yvette stared some more.

‘Yvette.’

She looked up at Brook and nodded faintly.

‘Please answer yes or no.’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Thank you. Now this is where I get confused. If Rusty hid his toothbrush in your bedroom, how did Len get proof Rusty wasn’t his son?’

‘He didn’t. But he did the next best thing.’

Brook stared at her for a moment, processing the information. ‘Of course. He took your toothbrush instead. That’s why you had to buy a new one.’

‘Yes,’ said Yvette.

‘Len didn’t need to prove that he wasn’t Rusty’s father, just that you weren’t his real mother. And if you weren’t Rusty’s real mother then he couldn’t be the father.’

‘Sly old bastard. We didn’t think of that.’

‘But that still begs the question: if Rusty’s bedroom was clean, how did Len get a sample of Rusty’s DNA?’

Yvette shrugged. ‘That I don’t know.’

‘Where is Rusty?’

‘I don’t know,’ she repeated with more force. ‘Everything I’ve told you about his disappearance is true. I haven’t seen him since the day before Kyle’s party. I don’t know where he is. I wish I did. You’ve got my phone. You must know how many times I’ve tried to get in touch with him.’

Brook took the phone from the evidence bag and handed it to her. ‘Show me a recent picture of Rusty.’

‘I told you. We had to be careful. There aren’t any pictures of him.’

Brook took the phone from her and, following Cooper’s instructions, scrolled down several photographs until he had the one he wanted. ‘Then who’s that?’ He turned the phone round to show Yvette the picture of the dark- haired boy with a small goatee beard. It had been taken three weeks previously.

Yvette gazed at the picture and smiled faintly. Her expression returned to neutral and she pushed the phone back to Brook. ‘That’s Philippe.’

‘Philippe?’

‘I called him Phil. He was an exchange student from Paris.’

‘Was?’

‘He went back to France two weeks ago. I met him at the college.’ She smiled fondly. ‘He’s an orphan like me.’

‘Is he a friend of Rusty’s?’

‘Rusty doesn’t know him. He’s a student, that’s all. Rusty was spending more and more time. .’ Yvette pursed her lips around the rest of the sentence.

‘And did you sleep with Philippe?’

This time there was no tantrum. She sighed. ‘He was nice to me.’ She looked at her solicitor who picked up the baton.

‘Is this relevant?’ said Roger Sands. ‘Is my client being charged with being friendly to her fellow students?’

Brook smiled. ‘Sorry. Just trying to be thorough. Let’s talk again about the boy filming on Exeter Bridge. You said you weren’t sure if it was Rusty. Was that a lie?’

She nodded. ‘I think it’s him. He looked like Rusty, moved like Rusty.’

Brook sat back in the chair. ‘Tell me about him.’

‘I love him.’

‘Don’t tell me about you. Tell me about him,’ insisted Brook.

‘Don’t you think we ought to take a break there, Inspector?’ interjected Sands, the solicitor. ‘My client has cooperated fully.’

Brook didn’t take his eyes from Yvette as he raised his hand to halt the interruption. ‘What about the other