Chapter 57
Fifty-Seven
Abby’s words had remained on Kim’s mind all the way back to the nick, but she’d put the thoughts aside to focus on trying to empty the station. For the first time she could remember, all three interview rooms were occupied, and she was dealing with every one of them.
‘I’ll take all your apologies later,’ Kim said to Bryant as they stepped out of interview room one.
‘There’s nothing graceful in I told you sos,’ Bryant complained. ‘And gloating is not very becoming.’
‘But I was right, wasn’t I?’ she asked, leaning against the wall. Her colleague had given her shit for trusting her gut non-stop.
‘Thought you said we were doing this later?’ Bryant replied.
‘I lied. Probably gonna do it now and later.’
Lena Hubbard had refused to speak on the way back to the station, but she must have spent that time weighing up her options. During processing she had refused a lawyer and stated she wanted to talk.
Kim had been happy to oblige, and Lena had admitted to shooting her husband.
She branded him a weak-minded, lily-livered pathetic excuse for a man because he’d wanted to make peace for Eric and Donna’s sake.
The woman had no remorse, felt entirely justified, and had even told them where she’d buried the gun.
‘Guv, it’s not that I mind you being right, it’s that you’re never done. Even now, you’re still trying to—’
‘You’ve got a visitor in reception,’ Jack said, popping his head into the corridor.
She nodded her understanding.
Bryant shook his head. ‘See what I mean. When are you gonna stop?’
‘Told you before, Bryant, God loves a trier,’ she said, walking past interview room two, which was occupied by Joe Butler and his lawyer.
She took a breath before entering interview room three, where Martha Stout sat glowering.
Despite the look of hatred, the woman looked cleaner than she had in years.
After being charged with the murder of George Hubbard, she’d been taken to Foston Hall in Derbyshire, where they’d have insisted on a shower.
They’d probably been fearful of what she might pass on to the other inmates.
Kim couldn’t help but wonder how many officers it had taken to get her under running water.
‘What game we playing – musical fucking cells?’ Martha asked as Kim took a seat. ‘Get on with it or I’ll miss my fucking tea back at Fossy.’
‘Why’d you do it, Martha?’ Kim asked, tipping her head, even though she had a good idea.
‘I told yer. He came past the oak tree. You dumb or something?’
Kim had to fight back her smile. Perversely, the more unpleasant Martha was, the more Kim liked her. She supposed it was because the woman cared nothing for anyone else’s opinion and she would change for no one.
‘How’d you do it then? Only a bullet that could bend could have hit him where it did.’
‘Jesus, sue me for being a few feet out. I might have been standing a bit further up the yard than what I said.’
‘Give it up, Martha. We know you didn’t do it. We have a watertight confession from the person who actually did kill George Hubbard.’
‘It wasn’t him. Ignore him. He might have been holding the gun, but it was me. He’s just trying to protect me, but he’s lying. Will yer just fucking accept—?’
‘You think we have William next door?’ Kim asked.
‘Well, Martin’s hardly in a fit state. I swear to you: ignore what he says. He ain’t all that bright. He’s just—’
‘It’s not him, Martha,’ Kim said, ending her misery. She was rewarded by Martha’s panic changing to confusion as she was rendered speechless. She hadn’t had that on her bingo card.
‘You really thought William had shot him from another part of the farm?’ Kim asked.
Martha all but snarled at her.
‘Jesus, Martha, there’s no lawyer present, and I haven’t read you your rights. You could admit to mass murder, and I couldn’t use it.’
Martha must have believed the frustration in her voice. She nodded. ‘He appeared from behind the house with a gun in his hand. I grabbed it and told him to call you lot.’
‘It wasn’t him. George Hubbard was on his way to try and make peace with you.’
‘Twat. Three more steps and I woulda shot him.’
‘Well, his wife saved you the trouble.’
It took a few seconds for the news to register, but when it did, a slow smile formed on Martha’s thin lips.
‘Fuck me, she’s got more balls than I gave her credit for. Fair play to her.’
Kim could only marvel that Lena Hubbard would tell her where to shove that respect. There was no coming back for these two women… but maybe hope lay elsewhere.
‘So, Martha, you’re free to go,’ Kim said, opening her hands.
Martha stood. ‘Well, don’t think I’m gonna thank you. You’re all still a bunch of tossers that I’d set on fire to keep me toes warm.’
‘And I’d expect nothing less,’ Kim said, opening the interview room door.
She followed the woman into the foyer.
Martha stopped dead. ‘What the fuck you doing here?’
Donna moved towards her mother. ‘Mum, this is madness. I love you and my brothers. Let me come and see Martin before—’
‘He doesn’t want to see you,’ Martha spat. ‘He’s gonna die with the heartache of your betrayal.’
‘But William—’
‘He hates yer as well.’
Tears escaped from Donna’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. ‘Just tell me what I can do to make it right. I’ll do anything!’
‘You still shacked up with him?’
‘I love him,’ Donna sobbed.
‘Nothing else to say,’ Martha said, brushing past her.
Kim shook her head in despair. Even after all she’d been through, Martha couldn’t find it in her heart to let the hatred and bitterness go. It was more important than her own daughter.
‘At least let me drive you home,’ Donna begged.
Martha looked her up and down before shaking her head. ‘I’d rather fucking walk.’
Martha strode out of the building and, with one more pained glance her way, Donna left too.
Kim turned to her colleague. The itch had been scratched, and there was just one thing left for her to say.
‘Okay, Bryant, that’s it. Now I’m officially done.’