In cold blood, p.29
In Cold Blood, page 29
Isabel tapped the side of her nose. ‘Oh ye of little faith, Danny boy,’ she said. ‘This is no time to give up hope.’
Chapter 56
Lucas returned to the CID room an hour later.
‘Digital Forensics are examining the computers,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure what they’re likely to find though. Considering most people didn’t own a computer in 1986, what are the chances of there being anything to tie Julie Desmond to Celia Aspen’s murder?’
‘Non-existent to zero, I would say,’ Dan said. ‘Despite what the DI thinks.’
‘Has she gone home?’ Lucas asked.
‘Yes,’ Dan replied. ‘Julie Desmond is under arrest, but we can only hold her until four o’clock tomorrow. We need the digital guys to work fast.’
Zoe rubbed her eyes. ‘I think I’ve found something else on CCTV. Take a look.’
Dan and Lucas gathered around the computer screen as Zoe played a short section of remarkably clear colour footage from a camera on Wirksworth’s main shopping street. They watched as Julie’s metallic-blue BMW moved towards the camera, heading into Wirksworth along the Cromford Road.
Zoe paused the film and zoomed in. The woman behind the wheel was clearly Julie Desmond. There was someone in the passenger seat, but it wasn’t possible to see their face because they were leaning back, head lolling against the headrest.
What was clear though was what the passenger was wearing: a green jacket and a purple shirt.
Chapter 57
‘Zoe’s found CCTV footage of Julie Desmond in Wirksworth,’ Lucas said, when Isabel walked into the office at eight o’clock the following morning. ‘Digital Forensics have also come up trumps.’
Isabel smiled. ‘Lucas, is that the same shirt you were wearing yesterday? You’ve not been here all night, have you?’
‘No chance. I did get home pretty late last night though.’ He grinned. ‘No time to iron a clean shirt for today, I’m afraid.’ He lifted his right arm and sniffed. ‘Don’t worry, this one’s not too bad.’
Isabel laughed. ‘Show me the CCTV footage.’
Lucas played the relevant segment.
‘It’s definitely them,’ she said. ‘It’s a good, clear image of Julie, but not so good of Timothy. His sartorial faux pas of a green jacket with a purple shirt are pretty unmistakable though. Is there any other footage? Is there anything closer to Julie’s business premises?’
‘This is the best we’ve got. Her place is out of the range of the cameras.’
‘Not to worry,’ Isabel said. ‘Julie has strongly denied, under caution, being anywhere near Wirksworth the night before last. This is pretty damning.’
‘Yep,’ said Lucas. ‘She’s going to have a hard time talking her way out of this.’
‘So what have Digital Forensics turned up?’
‘They recovered some old documents that had been deleted from a cloud storage system accessed from Julie’s computer. One of the documents is Celia Aspen’s last will and testament.’
Isabel was unimpressed. ‘Zoe’s already got us a copy of that.’
‘Yes, but something else has been saved in the same folder – a letter, scanned in and saved as a PDF.’
‘And who was the letter from?’
‘Celia Aspen.’
‘To?’
‘Eric Mundy.’
‘And? Come on, Lucas. This is like pulling teeth.’
He grinned and reached across his desk. ‘It’d be quicker for you to read the letter, boss. Here, I printed it out.’
Isabel took the wodge of papers Lucas held out to her. Sitting in Dan’s chair, she spread the pages across his empty desk, and saw immediately that it was written in the same handwriting as Cecil Aspen’s letter to Violet. This one was dated 7th May 1986. Isabel picked up the first page and began to read.
23 Ecclesdale Drive
Bainbridge
Derbyshire
7th May 1986
Dear Eric,
When your Uncle Jim visited me last month and told me about you, I was amazed and delighted. I know you have been told about my circumstances, so you will understand that I never dreamed I would be a parent. Knowing that I have a son is exciting, but also a responsibility I feel I have failed to meet. I only wish I’d learned of your existence before now, but I understand and respect your mother’s reasons for choosing not to tell me.
I am so sorry for your loss. Your mother was more than special to me. She was, truly, the only person who ever saw inside my soul. She understood me – not as a man or a woman, but as a human being. She made me laugh and there were times when she made my heart sing. She also made me cry.
Finding out that she had married William Mundy brought an end to my play-acting. Up to that point, I’d spent my whole life pretending to be something I wasn’t. Your mother was so lovely and so beautiful, and because of that I tried to be the man she longed for – even though it wasn’t what I wanted to be.
When I knew she’d married William, I was glad, because it released me from my obligation and made me resolute. The war had taught me many things – most of them were hard, bitter lessons that I would rather not have learned. There were several times during my imprisonment when I thought I was dying. During those terrible moments, the thing I regretted more than anything was that I’d never had the chance to live my life as the woman I felt I was inside.
I came back from the war with the intention of doing something about that. Only one thing held me back … and that was the promise I’d made to Violet. I found the prospect of letting her down abhorrent. So, when I found out that she’d passed me over for another man, rather than feeling heartbroken, I was relieved – set free. If I’d known about you then, perhaps I would have felt differently. We will never know now.
My life since the war hasn’t been easy. Society can be cruel and judgemental. When I told my family what I intended to do, they rejected me – banished me from their lives. My mother was always small-minded, so that was no great loss. I suspect my sister was very much like her.
I began a new life in Derby, where no one had known Cecil. To my neighbours and the people I worked with, I was Celia. I’m sure they all thought – think – that I am stuck up and aloof and cold, although I’m none of those things. I never have been. Unfortunately though, my secret has meant that I’ve never been able to let anyone get close to me. To do so would have been dangerous.
In 1978, I read a death notice for my sister which also included details of her funeral. I went along, although I’m not sure why. Curiosity perhaps, or a sense of family duty. While I was there, I met my niece. Her name is Julie Desmond and she is now twenty-two years old. I’d like to say that the two of us get along like a house on fire, but I’d be lying if I did. Like everyone in my life, I’ve kept her at bay. She doesn’t know my secret and, until recently, I had no intention of telling her. She visits me regularly and we muddle along together quite well, but I don’t think she has any real affection for me.
My hope is that one day (I realise it may not be in my lifetime) people like me will be accepted and respected. I have lived most of my life as a woman, and that has made me happy – but that happiness has never been truly complete because I’ve had to hide my secret. In covering up my past, I also find that I am forced to live a life in which my true personality must remain hidden. Inside, I am a warm, loving woman. On the outside, I am seen as a frosty, fussy old biddy who provokes fear or dislike in those I wish to befriend. It makes me sad, because my dream was always to match the way I look on the outside with the person I am on the inside. I have the heart and soul of a lady and I look and dress like a woman – but despite everything I’ve been through, there are times when I am still two different people.
I’m not telling you all this to provoke pity – on the contrary, that is the last thing I would want from you. The reason I am baring my soul to you is to help you understand. I have spent so many years hiding my past and it goes against the grain to break that silence. I prefer to tell you all this in a letter, rather than talking about it face-to-face, which I would find difficult.
That is enough about me. I hope that you will agree to meet me and we will have many opportunities to get to know one another. It would be wonderful to establish a friendship with you and your family. Jim tells me I have a granddaughter. I wonder if you have told her about me yet? I would like to see her, and see you. It is the thing I want most in the world.
The truth is, I have been lonely: never feeling as though I belong anywhere or to anyone. Now that I know about you, Eric, I feel content. Even if you choose not to see me, I will be happy simply knowing that you exist.
Jim has asked me to go out and visit him in Canada. I’m not sure yet whether I’ll take up his invitation, but I’ll think about it.
My niece, Julie, is going off shortly to spend three months in Australia. Before she goes, I have decided to tell her everything about my life … and about you. I will also let her know that I am going to change my will. Until the visit from Jim, I thought Julie was my only relative and I had named her as my sole beneficiary. Since learning about you and knowing that I have a growing granddaughter, I have decided to change my will in your favour. I tell you this not to influence your thoughts on whether to meet me. I will stand by my decision regardless, and I hope it will be a few more decades before you come into your inheritance.
I will still leave a small legacy for Julie. She is my sister’s grandchild after all, and she means well, even if she can be a little brusque. She and I have never enjoyed a close relationship, but she has visited me regularly and she shows concern for my wellbeing. I’m under no illusion that her motives are selfless, and it will be interesting to see whether she continues to visit me once I have informed her of my intentions regarding my will.
I hope you have had a happy life. Jim tells me that William was a good father to you and, for that, I am grateful.
I look forward to getting to know you. Jim has given me your telephone number and address. I will be in touch by phone a few days after you have received this letter. You can let me know if
Frustratingly, the letter ended mid-sentence. Isabel laid the last sheet of paper on the desk and cogitated on why Celia Aspen hadn’t finished it. It seemed likely that she had been interrupted. Had Julie turned up as Celia was writing the letter? Had the contents enraged her enough to make her lash out at her aunt?
‘It’s pretty incriminating, isn’t it?’ Lucas said. ‘What on earth was Julie thinking, hanging on to it for so long? She must have been crazy.’
‘Maybe she got rid of the original letter and didn’t realise the digital copy could be recovered, even after it had been deleted. She may have held on to it because it was a reminder of why she killed her aunt. It’s possible she viewed the contents of this letter as her justification for murder and she kept it to ease her guilt … maybe it was something she could turn to whenever her conscience pricked her.’
Lucas stood up. ‘Let’s go and ask her, shall we?’
Chapter 58
‘We have several more questions for you, Julie. First of all, can you tell us why you had a quantity of Rohypnol in your desk drawer at the Melbourne salon?’
They were back in interview room 2. Julie was clutching a paper cup of water as though her life depended on it. After being kept in a cell overnight, she looked washed‑out and worried. Her mascara had smudged, her hair was sticking out on one side, and her self-confidence had evaporated.
In stark contrast, the solicitor was fresh-faced and alert. She looked at her client and gave a slight shake of her head.
‘No comment,’ Julie said.
‘Aren’t you going to explain it away?’ said Lucas. ‘Say that you confiscated it from a wayward customer?’
‘No comment.’
‘Or did you buy it for the sole purpose of drugging Timothy Littlewood in order to stage his supposed suicide?’
‘No comment.’
‘The thing about roofies is that traces are usually eliminated from the body fairly quickly,’ Isabel said. ‘The drug’s metabolite, on the other hand, can be detected for several days if the right techniques are used. Timothy’s blood and urine are being tested as we speak.’
Isabel turned to Lucas, who pushed a folder sideways across the desk.
‘We’ve also found more CCTV footage, showing your car in Wirksworth the evening before last. I think you’ll agree that’s you driving the car?’ Isabel pointed to the still CCTV image she was handing to Julie. ‘It’s remarkably clear footage. That’s Timothy Littlewood in the passenger seat, isn’t it?’
Julie stared at the image, but said nothing.
‘You have to admit, Julie, this contradicts your own account of where you were on the evening in question.’
Again, Julie said nothing.
‘We found something else that we’d like you to explain,’ Isabel continued. ‘It’s an unfinished letter from Celia Aspen to her son, telling him that she planned to change her will. It was recovered from your cloud storage account.’
Isabel extracted a copy of the letter and slid it across the desk to Julie, whose face flushed hot and crimson. She looked down at the handwritten pages, rubbed her nose, and then sat back, pinning her arms against her stomach.
The solicitor glanced down at the pages before turning a questioning gaze on Julie. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone to consult with my client.’
‘No problem.’ Isabel suspended the interview. ‘Let’s reconvene in an hour.’
The solicitor nodded as Lucas switched off the recording devices and followed Isabel out of the interview room.
Chapter 59
Traffic noise penetrated the double-glazed window in Isabel’s office. She went over and looked out of it, down towards the high street where rain was spattering across the road, and the green and red colours of traffic lights were reflecting off the puddles.
Dan knocked on her door and entered.
‘Lucas tells me that Julie Desmond is consulting with her brief.’
‘Yes. I hope to God she won’t be advised to make no comment.’
‘The letter on her computer is pretty incriminating. It’s going to be hard for her to explain it away.’
‘The fact that it was in her possession proves that she’s been lying to us all along,’ Isabel said. ‘She knew Celia was transgender and she knew about Eric Mundy. More to the point, the contents of the letter suggest that Celia may have told Julie she was changing her will. The letter was dated 7th May, which means Julie had plenty of time to kill her aunt and dispose of her body before jetting off to Australia.’
‘Do you think she planned it? Or was it a spur of the moment thing?’
‘I don’t know, Dan. Either way, the end result was the same.’
They were interrupted by an urgent knock. Lucas poked his head around the door. His hair was sticking up and he looked both pleased with himself and rather startled.
‘You’d better get back to the interview room quick,’ he said. ‘The solicitor has just informed me that Julie wishes to make a statement. She’s confessing.’
‘Confessing to what? Drugging Timothy? Or murdering Celia Aspen?’
‘Everything,’ Lucas said. ‘The whole shooting match.’
***
Julie Desmond appeared to have aged ten years. It may have been the lack of make-up, or the paleness of her complexion that was to blame. Or guilt, Isabel thought. After years of getting away with murder, she’s finally been found out.
After reminding Julie that she was still under caution and reading the full caution to her once again, Isabel and Dan sat down and listened to Julie’s confession. Even her voice had aged. Gone was the confident, slightly dismissive tone of a few days earlier. Now, her speech was low, monotonous and completely devoid of timbre.
‘If my aunt had been a more generous woman, I probably wouldn’t have done what I did,’ she said. ‘When I talked to her about my plans to travel to Australia, she said that she’d help me … financially.’
‘And did she?’
‘Phh! She gave me fifty quid. Made a real thing of it too, as if she was giving me the crown jewels. I mean, £50. That wasn’t going to get me very far, was it? I ended up having to sell my car to raise the money for my air ticket and accommodation costs.’
‘So you were angry with your aunt?’
‘Yes, I was angry, but I was used to her stinginess, so it didn’t come as a total surprise. It was when she told me about her son that I lost it.’
‘When did she tell you?’
‘She invited me round a few days before I was due to leave for Australia. She said she had something important to tell me … that she wanted to be honest with me. When I got there she told me about her son.’
Julie examined a chip on her nail varnish before continuing.
‘When she explained it to me, I assumed she’d had a child out of wedlock during the war and had him adopted. She said she’d found out where he was living and she was hoping to go and see him. She also told me she was going to change her will.’
‘And how did that make you feel?’ Isabel asked.
‘I couldn’t believe it.’ Julie leaned back. ‘I felt totally betrayed. I’d been visiting her for years, and there she was, telling me she was going to leave the house and most of her money to a complete stranger.’
‘That stranger happened to be her biological son,’ said Dan, who was summarising the key points of Julie’s confession in his notebook.
‘Celia didn’t tell you she was transgender?’ Isabel asked.
‘No.’ Julie shook her head. ‘I think she would have done, but I didn’t give her the chance. I found out later, when I came across the letter she’d been writing to her son. It came as a complete shock. I had no idea.’
‘Can you tell us how you killed her?’
‘I smothered her. I told her I’d go out to get a bottle of Australian chardonnay to celebrate my trip. I’d cadged some sleeping tablets from my mother to help me get through the flight to Australia. They were in my handbag. I crushed a couple of them and mixed them into the two glasses of wine I poured for her. The combination of the wine and the sleeping tablets soon had her snoozing on the sofa. I suffocated her with a cushion.’
