Aftermath

“No.”

“Weren’t you curious?”

She seemed to shrink back into the bed. “Curiosity never did you any good with Terry. ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ he’d say, ‘and if you don’t shut up, it’ll kill you, too.’ ” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I did wrong. Everything was fine. It was just a normal life. Until I met Terry. Then everything started to fall apart. How could I be such a fool? I should have known.”

“Known what, Lucy?”

“What kind of person he was. What a monster he was.”

“But you did know. You told me he hit you, humiliated you in public and in private. You did know. Are you trying to tell me you thought that was normal? Did you think that was how everybody lived?”

“No, of course not. But it didn’t make him the sort of monster you think he is.” Lucy looked away again.

“What is it, Lucy?” Jenny asked.

“You must think I’m such a weak person to let him do all that. A terrible person. But I’m not. I’m a nice person. Everybody says I am. I was frightened. Talk to Maggie. She understands.”

Banks stepped in. “Maggie Forrest? Your neighbor?”

“Yes.” Lucy looked in his direction. “She sent me those flowers. We talked about it… you know… about men abusing their wives, and she tried to persuade me to leave Terry, but I was too frightened. Maybe in a while I might have found the courage. I don’t know. It’s too late now, isn’t it? Please, I’m tired. I don’t want to talk anymore. I just want to go home and get on with my life.”

Banks wondered whether he should tell Lucy that she wouldn’t be going home for some time, that her home looked like the site of an archaeological dig and would be in the police’s hands for weeks, perhaps months, to come. He decided not to bother. She would find out soon enough.

“We’ll go now, then,” said Jenny, standing up. “Take care, Lucy.”

“Would you do me a favor?” Lucy asked as they stood in the doorway.

“What is it?” Banks asked.

“Back at the house, there’s a nice little jewelry box on the dressing table in the bedroom. It’s a lacquered Japanese box, black with all kinds of beautiful flowers hand-painted on it. Anyway, it’s got all my favorite pieces in – earrings I bought on our honeymoon on Crete, a gold chain with a heart Terry bought me when we got engaged. They’re my things. Would you bring it to me, please? My jewelry box.”

Banks tried to hold in his frustration. “Lucy,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “We believe that several young girls were sexually abused and murdered in the cellar of your house, and all you can think about is your jewelry?”

“That’s not true,” said Lucy, a hint of petulance in her tone. “I’m very sorry for what happened to those girls, of course I am, but it’s not my fault. I don’t see why it should stop me having my jewelry box. The only thing anyone’s let me have from there is my handbag and purse, and I could tell someone had even been searching through them first.”

Banks followed Jenny out into the corridor and they headed for the lifts. “Calm down, Alan,” said Jenny. “Lucy’s dissociating. She doesn’t realize the emotional significance of what’s happened.”

“Right,” said Banks glancing at the clock on the wall. “That’s just bloody fine and dandy. Now I have to go and watch Dr. Mackenzie do his next postmortem, but I’ll do my damnedest to remember that none of it is Lucy Payne’s fault and that she’s managing to dissociate herself from it all, thank you.”

Jenny put her hand on his arm. “I can understand why you’re frustrated, Alan, but it won’t do any good. You can’t push her. She won’t be pushed. Be patient.”

The lift came and they got in. “Trying to have a conversation with that woman is like trying to catch water in a sieve,” Banks said.

“She’s a weird one, all right.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

Jenny grinned. “Let me think about it. I’ll talk to you after I’ve talked to her coworker and her parents. Bye.” They arrived at the ground floor and she hurried off toward the car park. Banks took a deep breath and pressed the “down” button.

Rapunzel was going much better today, Maggie decided as she stood back and examined her work, tip of her tongue between her small white teeth. She didn’t look as if one good yank on her hair would rip her head from her shoulders, and she didn’t look a bit like Claire Toth.

Claire hadn’t turned up as usual yesterday after school, and Maggie wondered why not. Perhaps it was only to be expected that she didn’t feel very sociable after what had happened. Maybe she just wanted to be alone to sort out her feelings. Maggie decided she would talk to her psychiatrist, Dr. Simms, about Claire, see if there was something that ought to be done. She had an appointment tomorrow which, despite the events of the week, she was determined to keep.

Lorraine Temple’s story hadn’t turned up in the morning newspaper, as Maggie had expected it to, and she had felt disappointed when she had searched through every page and not found it. She assumed that the journalist needed more time to check her facts and put the story together. After all, it had only been yesterday when they talked. Perhaps it would be a long article focusing on the plight of abused women, a feature in the weekend paper.

She bent over the drawing board and got back to work on the Rapunzel sketch. She had to turn her desk light on as the morning had turned overcast and muggy.

A couple of minutes later, her phone rang. Maggie put her pencil aside and answered it.

“Maggie?”

She recognized the soft, husky voice. “Lucy? How are you?”

“I’m feeling much better now, really.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say at first. She felt awkward. Despite her sending the flowers and defending Lucy to the police and with Lorraine Temple, she realized they didn’t know each other well and came from very different worlds. “It’s good to hear from you,” she said. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I just wanted to thank you for the flowers,” Lucy went on. “They’re lovely. They make all the difference. It was a nice thought.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“You know, you’re the only person who’s bothered with me. Everyone else has written me off.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Lucy.”

“Oh, but it is. Even my friends from work.”

Though Maggie could hardly bring herself to ask, it was only polite. “How’s Terry?”

“They won’t even tell me that, but I think he’s very badly hurt. I think he’s going to die. I think the police are going to try to blame me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have they been to talk to you?”

“Twice. Just now there were two of them. One was a psychologist. She asked me all sorts of questions.”

“About what?”

“About things Terry did to me. About our sex life. I felt like such a fool. Maggie, I just feel so frightened and alone.”

“Look, Lucy, if I can help in any way…”

“Thank you.”

“Have you got a solicitor?”

“No. I don’t even know any.”

“Look, Lucy. If the police come bothering you again, don’t say anything to them. I know how they can twist your words, make something out of nothing. Will you at least let me try to get you someone? One of Ruth and Charles’s friends is a solicitor in town. Julia Ford. I’ve met her, and she seems nice enough. She’ll know what to do.”

“But I don’t have that much money, Maggie.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out with her somehow. Will you let me call her for you?”