‘Christine, I should haul you into Challis Street, give you the third degree.’
‘But you haven’t. Why?’
‘Level with me, please. We know more about your Colin Young than before. There’s no doubt that he was sleeping with another woman, younger than you, his age. He was, and we are still trying to prove this, selling himself. Now, that may have been in the past, but we can’t be sure. What we do know is that he focussed on vulnerable women, and you are, don’t deny it, a classic case. The disinterested husband, the belief that time is passing you by, the need to be convinced that you are still desirable, attractive, able to find another man.’
Christine sat mute, not sure what to say. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. She attempted to speak, a garbled muttering.
‘What is it, Christine? The truth this time.’
‘I knew what he was doing in the hotel,’ she said.
‘When? Colin?’
‘The first time that he came to the hotel, the way he moved around the bar at night and in the foyer, picking his mark.’
‘But why the hotel? There must have been other places, lonely hearts clubs, that sort of thing.’
‘I’m not sure he was truly comfortable with what he did. He told me later that he abhorred tricking vulnerable and lonely women out of their money, solely for spending time with him. He was a moral person who knew wrong from right, but a selfish father, an abused childhood, had left him with only one skill.’
‘And you believed this nonsense?’
‘It was true, don’t you see it? With me, he was honest and caring, nothing like you portray him. I was the person he relied on, the person who accepted him for what he was, who forgave him.’
‘Apart from being delusional, what else is there?’ Wendy said. ‘Each time we meet, more comes out. Christine, where is this going to end?’
‘You will never understand the pure love that existed between us.’
Wendy could see that, yet again, the woman displayed a detached take on reality, as if her senses had deserted her. But that couldn’t be true, Wendy thought. The woman was smart, smart enough to separate truth from make-believe. But then a lot of people watched the programmes nightly on the television where a good-looking man has a group of women vying for his attention, professing love, falling out of love, eventually choosing one, a wedding with all the attendant glamour. Even Wendy and Bridget would sit down of a night and watch, having a good laugh, sometimes a tear, but never believing that it was anything more than a scripted programme acted out. Yet Christine Mason seemed to think that life was like that.
‘Christine, my patience is wearing thin. I have been advised to bring you into the police station. I resisted because I thought this would work better, yet you’re still fobbing me off with sugary rubbish. The truth, please, or I’ll declare you a hostile witness.’
‘But it is the truth. I must get back to work, the accounts. The manager will be angry if I don’t complete my work for the day.’
‘To hell with him,’ Wendy said, raising her voice.
‘He loved me.’
‘One more time, the truth. Colin Young is there in your hotel. He’s casing the joint, looking for his mark. What time of the day, the first time?’
‘Four in the afternoon. I’m standing by the lift, and he comes up to me.’
‘He sees you standing there, looking rich and lonely, is that it?’
‘I suppose so. We get talking.’
‘The smooth talk, how he’s been looking for a kindred spirit, and how younger women leave him cold?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And then, the time in the bar, the sweet words, the “let’s go to my room”.’
‘Tony was away, three weeks that time, but yes.’
‘You’re an easy lay, you know that?’
‘I always was, but he was charming, and I couldn’t resist. Don’t you understand?’
Wendy could to some degree, but it wasn’t the time to talk about her frustrations, it was the time to solve a murder.
‘I’m not the person being questioned, you are. You’ve spent time with him, no mention of money at this time?’
‘He told me he was struggling to pay the hotel bill.’
‘How much?’
‘I gave him five hundred pounds.’
‘What has your life consisted of? Didn’t you get out as a teenager, didn’t you play around with the local boys, doctors and nurses, that sort of thing?’ Wendy said. ‘You believe the man’s story, not for a moment thinking that he’s a hustler and that you’ve just had sex with a male prostitute.’
‘I never thought that.’
‘He leaves the hotel, returning a few weeks later, and checking in again, correct?’
‘Yes. I had no idea where he had been, and he never told me.’
‘Not some cock and bull story about him being a secret agent?’
‘No, nothing. I was in love, I trusted him.’
‘He returns to the hotel. Does he chase after other women?’
‘Not at all. We’re careful in the hotel, never talking to each other in public.’
‘And then, up to his room whenever you got the chance. And?’
‘I paid his hotel bill. He’d use his credit card, but I’d give him the money in cash.’
‘Embezzlement? You’re using the hotel’s money by this time. How much?’
‘Over twenty thousand pounds.’
‘Does anyone know?’
‘Yes.’
‘Carry on, let’s hear the rest.’
A plane flew low overhead, the conversation momentarily halted; a baby cried nearby. An old man sat on the bench beside the two women. Eventually, he walked away, and the conversation resumed.
‘I managed to hide the theft. But if there’s an audit, then it will be picked up,’ Christine said, her face red, her voice clear, her hands steady, as if the unburdening was good for the soul. Wendy knew that
