Waiting for Wednesday

Kemp, and you wanted to end your
relationship with Ruth Lennox but she wouldn’t accept that.’
    ‘I wanted it to be mutual. No
recriminations. Ten good years. Not many people manage that.’
    ‘But Ruth Lennox didn’t see it
that way. Was she angry? Did she even threaten to tell your wife?’
    ‘She wouldn’t have behaved like
that.’
    ‘Shall we stick for the moment to what
you actually did, rather than what you’re claiming she would have done if she
hadn’t been murdered?’
    ‘I was with Sam that
Wednesday.’
    ‘With Samantha Kemp?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It’s a pity you didn’t
tell us this before.’
    ‘I’m telling you now.’
    ‘So you went from your Wednesday
afternoon with Ruth Lennox to another assignation with Samantha Kemp.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘At her flat.’
    ‘I’ll need her contact
details.’
    ‘She’s got nothing to do with
any of this.’
    ‘She has now.’
    ‘She won’t be
pleased.’
    ‘You realize this changes everything?
You had a secret that only one other person knew. You and Ruth Lennox had to trust each
other. That was probably easy as long as you both wanted to continue your affair. For
ten years you protected each other from being discovered. The problem arose when one of
you wanted to leave.’
    ‘That’s not how it
was.’
    ‘She had power over you.’
    ‘You’re making a mistake. She
didn’t threaten to expose me and I was with Samantha Kemp from the moment I left
the flat until the time I came back home. Check it if you don’t believe
me.’
    ‘Don’t worry, we
will.’
    ‘If that’s all, I have things to
do.’
    He stood up from the chair, scraping it
across the floor. Karlsson stared at him and waited, and eventually he lowered himself
once more.
    ‘I haven’t done anything except
be stupid,’ he said.
    ‘You’ve lied to us.’
    ‘Not because I killed Ruth. I loved
her.’
    ‘But you were planning to
leave?’
    ‘Not planning in the way you mean.
Just aware things were coming to an end.’
    ‘She could have wrecked your
marriage.’
    ‘She has anyway, hasn’t she?
From beyond the grave.’
    ‘How was she going to make you stay
with her?’
    ‘I’ve already said that she
wasn’t. She was just angry. You’re twisting words to suit your
suspicions.’
    ‘I think you’re still
withholding information. We will find it out in the end.’
    ‘There’s nothing to find
out.’
    ‘We’ll see.’
    ‘I tell you there’s nothing.
Under the mess is just more mess.’
    Further along the corridor, Yvette was
interviewing Zach Greene, Judith Lennox’s boyfriend. He worked part time for a
software firm based in a converted warehouse just off Shoreditch High Street. He was a
tall, skinny man with small pupils in eyes that were almost yellow. He had bony wrists,
long, nicotine-stained fingers, and his brown hair was shaved close to his skull in a
soft bristle. Yvette could see a V-shaped scar running from his crown to just above his
delicate left ear. He had rosebud lips and shapely eyebrows, like a woman’s, a
nose stud and a tattoo just visible above his shirt. Everything about him contradicted
everything else: he looked soft and rugged, feeble and aggressive, older than his years
and much younger. He smelt of flowers and tobacco. His shirt was a pastel-green and on
his feet were stout army boots. He was oddly attractive and a bit creepy, and he made
Yvette feel dowdy and deeply unsure of herself.
    ‘I know that theoretically it’s
against the law.’
    ‘No, it’s definitely against the
law.’
    ‘But why do you assume we were
actually having sex?’
    ‘Judith Lennox says you were. If
she’s lying, then say so.’
    ‘Why do you assume I knew her
age?’
    ‘How old are
you
?’
    ‘I’m twenty-eight.’
    ‘Judith Lennox is fifteen.’
    ‘She looks older.’
    ‘That’s a large age
difference.’
    ‘Jude is a young woman. She knows her
own mind.’
    ‘She’s a girl.’
    He gave a tiny, almost invisible shrug with
one shoulder. ‘Power is what matters, don’t you think?’ he said.
‘The law is there to prevent the abuse of power. In our case, it’s
irrelevant. As far as I’m concerned we’re both consenting adults.’
    ‘The fact remains that she’s a
minor. You’re guilty of a criminal offence.’
    For a brief moment, anxiety broke the
surface. His face puckered. ‘Is that why I’m here?’
    ‘You’re here because her mother
was killed.’
    ‘Look. I’m really sorry about
that but I don’t see the