‘I said how excited I was to have a chance to go home and make it up with Daddy. Gertrude was in my arms doing a lot of wagging. I couldn’t bear to waste any more time, so I put her down, and was just pecking Rannaldini goodbye, when he swung his head so his mouth landed on mine. Then he pushed me to the floor—’
‘Why didn’t you scream for help?’
‘Rannaldini had his hand over my mouth, I saw the black hairs like bristles on crackling.’ Tab started to shudder again, her face beaded with sweat.
‘You’re quite safe,’ soothed Karen. ‘Sergeant Gablecross and I are here. Ann-Marie’s in the kitchen, look, the nice old gardener’s outside.’
To Tab, Mr Bodkin seemed miles away, merging into the heat-haze shimmering on the gravel and the smoky-blue trees beyond.
‘I tried to bite him, my teeth clashed on his wedding-ring — the wedding-ring my mother gave him, for God’s sake.’
‘Tell me what he did to you.’ Karen was stroking Tab’s hair. ‘It’s quite OK to be frightened.’
Tab described the rape quite dispassionately, breaking down only when she came to Gertrude. ‘He hit her with a bust, then threw her against the carved chest. Bastard!’ Her voice rose to a scream.
‘It’s OK to be angry.’
‘I pushed him against a table and snatched up Gertrude, who was pouring blood, and stumbled down the stairs into the wood.’
‘What happened to your glass?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It was found by his body.’ Gablecross was on the warpath again. ‘Sure you didn’t kill him because you were so angry?’
‘No.’
‘Or lie in wait once you found Gertrude was dead, and kill him when he came out looking for you?’
‘No.’
‘Why didn’t you run back to the tennis court where all your friends were?’
‘I lost my bearings. I was so terrified he’d come after me, I just wanted to get away.’
‘How’d you get home?’
‘I was waiting by the telephone box. I heard someone singing and footsteps. I thought it was Rannaldini. I ran into the road and a big car coming from Paradise screeched to a halt. I begged the driver to give me a lift. He wanted to take me to Casualty in Rutminster, I asked him to drop me on the road to Cotchester but he swung his car round and took me the whole way home.’
Tab didn’t remember anything about the car or the man except that he was kind.
‘He wrapped a rug round me and Gertrude — she was bleeding all over the car. He turned the heating up so high he was pouring with sweat by the time we got home.’
‘How old was he?’
‘Old, at least forty.’
Karen suppressed a smile as Gablecross winced.
‘No-one you recognized?’
‘No, and he wouldn’t come in. I thanked him for saving me, and he said, in this funny accent, “I’ve got to thank you for saving me from something much bigger,” and drove off.’
‘Did you notice this picture in the watch-tower?’ Gablecross held out a photograph of
‘Yuk,’ said Tab. ‘It was on the wall in the sitting room.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite. Rannaldini pointed it out, saying wasn’t he handsome in those days. I told him he looked better now. I wasn’t leading him on. It was true. He looked like an Italian waiter when he was young.’
Tab took a slug of her now tepid vodka. Maybe the worst was over. Karen got up and prowled round the room. Gablecross renewed the attack.
‘Why did you really kiss Rannaldini?’ he asked. ‘Did you lure him on to rape you so you had an excuse to strangle him in self-defence?’
‘For the hundredth time, I kissed him because I was so grateful he’d found Gertrude. What crucifies me is the thought of her terrible last hours, kidnapped, totally confused and terrified because she was deaf and blind, and then murdered.’
‘All very touching,’ said Gablecross sarcastically. ‘I think you fancied your stepdad something rotten and if, as you allege, this was the first time, how the hell d’you explain these?’ Like a straight flush, he triumphantly splayed the photographs in front of her.
For a minute, Tab was speechless as the colour swept her face, merging with the blotches until it was all the same ugly red, as she gazed down at her own lascivious beauty, the half-closed eyes, the curling tongue, the thrust-forward breasts, the pink lips glistening between the long slender white thighs.
‘The full split beaver,’ said Gablecross roughly.
‘My father had a dog called Beaver,’ said Tab slowly. Then she flipped. ‘How absolutely gross.’
She struggled to her feet to grab the photographs then, finding her legs wouldn’t support her, collapsed back on the sofa.
‘It’s a trick, my head on someone else’s body.’
‘But in your own bedrooms at Valhalla and at Magpie Cottage,’ said Gablecross. ‘We checked out the background. You
‘I have not!’ Tab’s scream was so raw that Sharon, who’d been trembling and swallowing throughout the interview, crept under the sofa. Her bone was black with buzzing flies now. Gablecross chucked it out of the window.
