Tabitha sat for several minutes, holding the letter, thinking.
Then she wrote a reply.
Dear Luke,
I’m glad you told me that. Will you be one of my witnesses? Please.
Tabitha
Forty-Six
Two days later, she watched the entire CCTV footage once more. She didn’t really need to, but she had no idea how else to fill the days between now and the trial. This time, she didn’t make notes, she just stared at the grainy film until it became like a dream, or like something that had happened far away and long ago.
The camera gazed at the leafless birch. Figures appeared, disappeared. The bus arrived and left. She saw Stuart’s car go by and she saw it return. She saw Mel, Rob, Shona, Owen Mallon, Luke. She saw the deliveryman.
The deliveryman. She had interviewed everyone except him—and he’d been there all day, waiting patiently for the tree to be cleared.
She rifled through all the bundles she had received from the prosecution: Lev Wojcik.
He was solid, with round shoulders, broad hands and brown eyes that were almost green. The lines on his face gave him a worried air. He sat opposite Tabitha and fixed his gaze on her.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I was hoping you could help me.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited.
“As you know,” she continued, “I’ve been charged with murdering Stuart Rees on the twenty-first of December. The day you were in Okeham because of the tree.”
“Yes.”
“You were there practically all day.”
“Yes.”
“And you were the last person to see Stuart alive.”
“No.”
“What?”
“The person who killed him was the last.”
“Right. Apart from the killer. Who wasn’t me,” she added a little desperately.
“What do you want from me?” he asked. “The police have already asked me everything.” He suddenly sounded grim.
“Did they give you a hard time?”
“What do you think?”
“I see.” She gave him a small smile but he didn’t smile back. “But you saw Stuart.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me about that? I mean, you arrived in the village at nine-forty,” she said. She didn’t need to look at her notes; she had that day memorized by heart now.
He nodded.
“And you went to the village shop first.”
“To buy a sandwich,” he said.
“Nobody else was in the shop?”
“No. Then I drove to the house of Mr. Rees.”
“You only had the one delivery in Okeham?”
“Only one.”
“Do you know what the parcel was?”
He shrugged. “A book perhaps. Not big.”
“So you went to the house and rang the doorbell?”
“I didn’t need to ring. He must have heard the van so he opened the door before I rang. I gave him the parcel.”
“And that was it?”
“Yes.”
“How did he seem?”
“I just gave him a delivery.”
“He didn’t say anything about going out later?”
“No. How would he, with the tree down?”
“And you just left.”
“Yes.”
“And went back to the shop.”
“Yes.”
“And stayed there pretty much all day?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I bought coffee. I bought a paper. I waited in the van. It was very cold. Sometimes I ran the engine to get warm.”
“You got out a few times. Why?”
“It was many hours,” he said. For the first time he looked uncomfortable. “I had drunk much coffee.”
“You didn’t go back to Stuart’s house?”
“What for?”
“I don’t know.”
But she knew, from looking at the CCTV, that he hadn’t been away from his van or the shop for long enough to get to Stuart’s house and back again. Something nagged at her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She felt she wasn’t asking the right questions.
“Did you see Stuart drive past you at about half past ten and then back again?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see me?”
He looked at her with his mottled eyes. “I don’t know,” he said again. “I wasn’t looking. I was just waiting. It was boring. It was cold. I was losing money. What do you want me to say? It was just one of the days when nothing goes right. I was happy to leave.”
“How did you know when the tree had been cleared?”
“Like when I came, the woman in the shop told me.”
“Terry.”
“She didn’t say her name.”
“So you can’t remember anything you saw as you sat there all those hours?”
“I didn’t say so. There was the woman with her dog. I like dogs. She walked back and forward several times. There was a man who ran.”
“But you saw nothing odd? Nothing that grabbed your attention?”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes resting on her. “Nothing.”
Forty-Seven
Michaela looked at Tabitha with an expression of concern, almost of dismay.
“You should wash your hair you know, maybe get it cut.”
“I know.”
“Before the trial, anyway. It’s not long to go now.”
“Just over three weeks.”
“You’ve got to look smart for that.”
“I know.”
“What’ll you wear?”
“I haven’t thought. I don’t really have the right kind of clothes. I’m not really a suit kind of person. Or a skirt and blouse kind.”
“Shall I get stuff for you?”
“Would you do that? I’ll pay you, of course.”
“Sure. What size are you?” She eyed Tabitha. “An eight, I think. Or a six. You’re tiny. What size feet?”
“Thirty-seven. You’re being very kind to me.”
Michaela shrugged and looked uncomfortable: she didn’t like praise.
“I was hoping you could do a bit more research for me.”
“All right. I’m only working shifts at the pub at the moment.”
“I made a list.” Tabitha handed Michaela two sheets of paper.
“What is this?”
“All stuff the police took from my house. I’ve no idea why some of them are relevant. They probably have blood on them.”
Michaela nodded, giving the list a cursory glance. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know really. But look, these knives, say, I want to know if one of them is older than the others, or doesn’t fit with them.”
“I can give it a go.”
“I wrote down serial numbers. Like that paint, or the plastic sheeting. It’s probably useless but I don’t know what else to do and I’ve got to do something or I’ll go mad just sitting here and waiting and knowing I’ve got pretty much nothing.”
“You’re
