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Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“I thought,” said Strike, “I should come and tell the Athorns’ social worker in person that a body’s been found in their flat. You do a very good middle-class accent, Janice. I s’pose the phone Clare uses is round here somewhere?”
He looked around. Possibly she’d hidden it when she’d seen who was at the door. He suddenly spotted the hairdryer, tucked away behind the sofa, but with its lead protruding. He sidled past the coffee table, bent down and pulled it out, along with a roll of cellophane, a small phial with the label pulled off, a syringe and some chocolates.
“Leave them,” said Janice suddenly and angrily, but he laid the items on the coffee table instead.
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“Leave them,” said Janice suddenly and angrily, but he laid the items on the coffee table instead.
“How ill would I have been if I’d eaten one of those dates you were doctoring when I arrived last time?” he asked. “You use the hairdryer to fix the cellophane back round them, right?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “I haven’t thanked you for those chocolates you sent Robin and me at Christmas. I had flu. Only managed to eat a couple before puking my guts up. Chucked the rest away, because they had bad associations. Lucky for me, eh?”
Strike now sat down in the armchair, beside his mobile, which was still recording.
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“Yeah,” Strike acknowledged, “you’re probably right.”
He picked up the mobile, turned it to face her so she could watch, switched off the recording, then laid it down on the small coffee table beside the chocolates, the empty phial, the syringe, the cellophane and the hairdryer.
“Why d’you do it, Janice?”
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“I waited six, seven monfs. That was easy. ’E was a walkin’ timebomb, Larry, the doctors ’ad warned ’im, ’is ’eart was wrecked. Pseudoephedrine, that was. They never even checked ’im for drugs in ’is system. They knew what it was: smoking and eating like a pig. Nobody looked further than ’is dodgy ticker…”
Strike detected not the slightest sign of remorse as she shuffled the obituaries of her victims as though they were so many knitting patterns. Her fingers trembled, but Strike thought that was down to shock, not shame. Mere minutes ago she’d thought of suicide. Perhaps that cool and clever brain was working very hard beneath the apparently frank surface, and Strike suddenly reached out and removed the drugged chocolates from the table beside Janice, and put them down on the floor beside his chair. Her eyes followed them, and he was sure he’d been right to suspect she was thinking of eating them. Now he leaned forwards again and picked up the old yellow clipping he’d examined last time, showing little Johnny Marks from Bethnal Green.
“He was your first, was he?”
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
And Strike saw the almost indiscriminate desire for disruption that lay behind the meek exterior.
“Gloria throwing up at the barbecue,” said Strike. “Irene and her irritable bowel syndrome—Kevin and his constant stomach aches—Wilma swaying on her feet and vomiting while she was working at St. John’s—me, puking up my Christmas chocolates—and, of course, Steve Douthwaite and his vision problems, his headaches and his churning guts… I’m assuming it was Douthwaite Irene was flirting with, the day you put Amytal capsules in her tea?”
Janice pressed her lips together, eyes narrowed.
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“Not a week later,” said Janice, twisting the old wedding ring on her finger, “I realize Steve’s going to see ’er about ’is ’ealf, instead of coming to see me. Next fing I know, Margot’s asking me all about Joanna’s death, out the back by the kettle, and Dorothy and Gloria were listening in. I said, ‘ ’Ow the ’ell should I know what ’appened?’ but I was worried. I fort, what’s Steve been telling ’er? ’As ’e said ’e finks there was somefing wrong wiv it? ’As someone said they saw a nurse leaving the ’ouse?
“I was getting worried. I sent ’er chocolates full of phenobarbital. Irene ’ad told me Margot ’ad ’ad freatening notes, and I’m not surprised, interfering bitch, she was… I fort, they’ll fink it’s ’ooever sent them notes, sent the chocolates…
“But she never ate ’em. She frew ’em in the bin in front of me, but after, I ’eard she’d taken ’em out the bin and kept ’em. And that’s when I knew, I really knew. I fort, she’s gonna get ’em tested…”
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“What gave you the idea of concrete?” Strike asked. “That rumor of the body in the foundations?”
“Yeah,” said Janice, finally. “It seemed like the way to stop the body smelling. I needed ’er to disappear. It was too near ’ome, what wiv ’er examining Kev, and asking me about Joanna, and keeping those chocolates. I wanted people to fink maybe the Essex Butcher got ’er, or the bloke ’oo sent the threatening notes.”
“How many times had you visited the Athorns before you killed Margot?”
Troubled Blood
Part Six - 71
“Only fank Gawd I never did any of that, fank Gawd I saved the Athorns, because what would I ’ave done wiv Margot if I ’adn’t ’ad them up the road? I’d nicked their spare key by then. They never noticed.
“I never fort it would work,” said Janice, “’cause I ’ad to frow the plan togevver in about five minutes. I knew she was onto me, when she saved the chocolates, and I was up all night, finking, worrying… and it was the next day, or maybe the day after, Steve went charging out of her surgery that last time. I was scared she’d warned ’im about me, because when I went round that night, ’e made some excuse not to let me in… I mean, ’e never went to the police, so now I know I was being paranoid, but at the time—”
“You weren’t being paranoid,” said Strike. “I spoke to him yesterday. Margot told him he ought to stop eating anything you prepared him. Just that. He understood what she was saying, though.”