Page 326 of Troubled Blood

“So I go back inside. I was there till midnight, near enough. I ’ad to mix the concrete bit by bit, by ’and, in a bucket. It took ages. Margot filled up most of that box fing, but it took a long time to get all the concrete round her. Then I closed the lid. It stuck to the concrete. I couldn’t get it up again, so that was good.

“When they was all awake, I told Gwilherm I’d taken care of it. I said to ’im quietly, the lid on that box thing ’as jammed. Best find somewhere else to put Samhain’s toys.

“’E knew, obviously. I fink ’e pretended to ’imself ’e didn’t, but ’e did. I was there free times a week, afterward. I ’ad to be. Keeping ’im happy. One time I went round and ’e’d painted all those symbols on the walls, like it was some sort of pagan temple or something.

“Weeks after, monfs after, I was worried sick. I knew ’e was tellin’ people ’e’d killed ’er. Luckily, everyone fort ’e was a nutcase, local. But it got bad, toward the end. ’E ’ad to go. I still can’t believe I waited a year to get rid of ’im…”

“And around the time you killed him, you phoned Cynthia Phipps and pretended to be Margot, didn’t you? To give the police another lead to hare after, and distract from Gwilherm, in case anyone had taken him seriously?”

“Yeah. That’s right,” mumbled Janice, twisting the old wedding ring.

“And you kept visiting Deborah and Samhain as Clare Spencer?”

“Well, yeah,” said Janice. “I ’ad to. They needed watching. Last fing I wanted was real social workers fiddling around in there.”

“And Deborah and Samhain never realized Clare was the same as Janice the nurse?”

“People with Fragile X don’t recognize faces easy,” said Janice. “I changed me ’air color and used me glasses. I done a lot to keep ’em ’ealfy, you know. Vitamin D for Deborah, cause she never goes outside. She’s younger’n me… I fort, I might well be dead before anyone finds the body. Longer it went on, less likely it was anyone would ever know I ’ad anyfing to do wiv it…”

“And what about Douthwaite?”

“’E scarpered,” said Janice, her smile fading. “That near enough broke my ’eart. There was me ’aving to go out on foursomes wiv Irene and Eddie, and act like I was ’appy wiv Larry, and the love of my life’s disappeared. I asked ev’ryone where Steve ’ad gone, and no one knew.”

“So why’s Julie Wilkes on your wall?” asked Strike.

“’Oo?” said Janice, lost in her self-pitying reverie.

“The Redcoat who worked at Clacton-on-Sea,” said Strike, pointing at the young blonde with her frizzy hair, who was framed on Janice’s wall.

“Oh…’er,” said Janice, with a sigh. “Yeah… I ran into someone ’oo knew someone ’oo’d met Steve at Butlin’s, few years later… oh, I was excited. Gawd, I was bored wiv Larry by then. I really wanted to see Steve again. I love a man ’oo can make me laugh,” repeated the woman who’d planned the murder of a family, for the pleasure of watching them die. “I knew there’d been somefing there between us, I knew we coulda bin a couple. So I booked me and Larry an ’oliday at Butlin’s. Kev didn’t wanna come—suited me. I got meself a perm and I went on a diet. Couldn’t wait. You build things up in your mind, don’t you?

“And we went to the club night and there ’e was,” said Janice quietly. “Oh, ’e looked gorgeous. ‘Longfellow Serenade.’ All the girls went crazy for ’im when ’e finished singing. There’s Larry boozing… After Larry went to bed in the chalet I went back out again. Couldn’t find ’im.

“Took me free days to get a word wiv ’im. I said, ‘Steve, it’s me. Janice. Your neighbor. The nurse!’”

She turned slowly redder than she’d been all interview. Her eyes watered with the intensity of her blush.

“He goes ‘Oh yeah. All right, Janice?’ And ’e walks away. And I seen ’im,” said Janice, and her jaw quivered, “kiss that girl, that Julie, and look back at me, like ’e wanted me to see…

“And I fort, no. After all what I’ve done for you, Steve? No.

“I did it on the last night but one of our ’oliday. Larry snoring ’is ’ead off as usual. ’E never noticed I wasn’t in bed.

“They all used to go to Steve’s chalet after work, I found that out, following ’em. She come out on ’er own. Pissed. Two in the morning.

“It wasn’t ’ard. There wasn’t anyone round. They didn’t ’ave cameras around like they do nowadays. I pushed ’er, and I jumped in after ’er, and I ’eld ’er under. It was the surprise what killed ’er. She took in a load of water on the way down. That was the only one I ever did wivvout drugs, but I was angry, see…

“Got out, toweled meself off. Mopped up all the footprints, but it was a warm night, you couldn’t see nuffing by morning.

“Next day, I seen ’im. I says, ‘Terrible fing, that girl, Steve. You look awful. Wanna get a drink?’

’E went white as a sheet, but I fort, well, you used me, Steve, and then you left me high and dry, didn’t you?”

A police siren sounded somewhere in the distance, and Strike, glancing at his watch, thought it was likely to be heading here, for Nightingale Grove.

“You took my sympafy and my kindness and you let me cook for you,” said Janice, still addressing an imaginary Steve Douthwaite. “I was even ready to kill my kid for you! And then you go off messing around wiv ovver women? No. Actions ’ave consequences,” said Janice, her cheeks still burning. “Men need to learn that, and take some responsibility. Women ’ave to,” she said, as the police siren grew ever louder. “Well, I’ll see ’im again in court, won’t I? You know, I’m quite looking forward to it, now I’m finking about it,” said Janice. “It’s not fun, living ’ere all on me own. It’ll be funny seeing Irene’s face. I’ll be all over the papers, won’t I? And maybe some men will read about why I done it, and realize they want to be careful ’oo they lead on. Useful lesson for men everywhere, if you ask me. Actions,” repeated Janice Beattie, as the police car drew to a halt outside her front door, and she squared her shoulders, ready to accept her fate, “’ave consequences.”

PART SEVEN

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