‘Not dead? Surely, he’s... I mean, he must’ve been in the water for several minutes.’
‘It’s cold-water hypothermia, we understand. He’s in a coma. This man was your husband?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘And he was trying to kill me. I hope you found his gun. I’m sure Cait has it all on her phone.’
‘Do you have this woman’s surname?’
‘O’Donnell,’ I say. ‘She’s on bail for manslaughter, so she’s in the system. She will have broken her bail conditions unfortunately, but she was following me, you see. I think she sensed I was in danger. I hope you’ll look favourably on her actions.’
The PC writes all of this down, which takes some time, then sits on the blue plastic chair and says, ‘In your own words, could you tell us exactly what happened?’
Having had some time to consider how to play this particularscene, I explain as succinctly as possible that my estranged abusive husband tracked me down, even using an investigator (I mention DS Birch here). When I told him I’d remarried and couldn’t have him back, he said he’d rather see me dead than living with another man, threatened me with a gun and tried to push me in the river, whereupon my friend, Cait, saved my life, and in the scuffle, he fell down the steps into the water. I also told them to look for the severed padlocks, as I believed the cunning bastard had removed them in advance, which clearly indicated an intention to murder me.
They ask all kinds of additional questions, but I try to keep the story as simple as possible – another jealous husband attacking his wife because he can’t accept he’s not wanted any more.
They tell me they’ll need a formal statement and disappear into the night. Stephen arrives an hour later looking guilty. Nothing like being in bed with your mistress when the mother of your children is being nearly murdered to make a man question his priorities.
Chapter81Results
Tuesday, 28 January
As the press are rehashing Hollis’s and my relationship as a tragic love story with some help from me, I await the postman. My shins are still sore, not that anyone’s asked. Hollis is still in a hypothermic coma and seems determined not to die, which is probably the worst of all worlds.
I hope it’s not uncharitable to hope for brain damage in the area responsible for language and memory, if he does pull through. If he survives, I’m unable to inherit a penny of his considerable wealth and am entitled to nothing from Stephen.
If he dies, things are somewhat sunnier. Cait did manage to break into Hollis’s flat, find his will and burn it, clever girl. If he now dies, he dies intestate, which should mean I’ll get everything as his legal spouse. On the less positive side, Cait’s been arrested for the attempted murder of Matthew Hollis. I strongly believe that her video of him dangling me over the Thames while holding a gun means that they won’t charge her. However, as she breached her bail conditions again, and is clearly a lethal threat to abusive men everywhere, she’s back in Bronzefield until her trial for Owen’s manslaughter.
I watch the road from the front room. The postie’s a nice chap,quite mature, with a limp and a large trolley. Always manages a smile, but he is slow. I head upstairs to the bedroom for a better view and spot him five houses down from ours. I look at my watch. I just want to run and grab Nelly’s letter.
I decide to indulge my impatience on this occasion, rush downstairs, grab my coat, and shout to anyone who’s interested that the post is here. No one in the house responds, least of all Nelly, who’s hiding again. We no longer search for her. I think one of those trackers that Cait has attached to her ankle might be the only solution.
I open the door and I’m confronted again by DS Birch and DC Mattoo coming through the gate. It’s almost as if they know I won’t answer the door and wait to ambush me.
‘Mrs Rook,’ says DS Birch. ‘Looks like you’ve recovered from your injuries.’
‘I nearly died. Most of the scars from that incident will never heal, Detective,’ I say.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. Mrs Rook, we just need a further word with you.’
‘If this is about that Jason Mercer again, I can’t help you. You’ve got to learn to find people by yourself.’
‘We understand that Matthew Hollis paid Mercer to track you down,’ says DS Birch. ‘It explains a great deal.’
I stop, partly because they’ve blocked my path but mainly because of the expressions on both of their faces. I glance from one to the other. Constipation? It’s a strange look for a police officer and it suits neither of them.
‘Could we come in?’ says DS Birch. ‘There’s something important we need to discuss.’
‘I’m afraid not, I’m just trying to catch the postman. Just say what you need to say right here.’ I look over their shoulders at the postman as he reaches number 40.
‘It’s about Matthew Hollis,’ says Birch.
‘Hold on,’ I interrupt as I slip in between them and head for the postman.
‘Mrs Rook, did you hear me?’
‘I don’t see what I can add. He attacked me. I’m a victim – look at my bandages. Isn’t it time the police stopped persecutingwomen for protecting themselves? Now, I’ve got to catch the post. He’s missed number 42. They rarely get letters, actually.’
‘Mrs Rook, we’re not investigating the incident at the river. That’s not our case.’
