The Other Side of the Door, Nicci French [new reading .TXT] 📗

am here. But, Tabitha, you do understand what the charge is?’

‘I know what they say I did.’

‘Good. So this is what we’re going to do today: I am going to lay out the summary of the case against you. And then you are going to tell me, in your own words, what happened on the twenty-first of December.’

‘Can I ask something first?’

‘Of course.’

‘What day is it today?’

‘Wednesday, the ninth of January.’

‘I see.’

Christmas had gone by, and New Year’s Eve, and now she was in another year and another world.

‘So,’ said Mora Piozzi, looking down at her laptop. ‘In brief: you are charged with the murder of Stuart Robert Rees, on Friday the twenty-first of December, between the hours of ten forty in the morning and three thirty in the afternoon.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Why those times?’

Piozzi flicked through her notes.

‘There’s a CCTV camera. It’s attached to the village shop. His car drove past it.’ She looked down at her laptop. ‘At ten thirty-four. And as you know, his body was discovered at half past four that day.’

‘Yes,’ said Tabitha faintly. She paused. ‘But there’s a spare hour then, between half past three and half past four.’

‘I understand the forensic pathologist is satisfied that Rees had been dead at least an hour when his body was discovered.’

Piozzi continued speaking in a low, calm voice, as if it was all routine. ‘His body was found by Andrew Kane in a shed outside your back door, wrapped in plastic sheeting. You were in the house at the time of discovery. Stuart Rees’s car was parked round the back of your house, out of sight of the road. He had been stabbed multiple times by a knife, but the cause of death was the slashing of his carotid artery.’ She looked up. ‘That’s in his neck. His blood was all over you and all over the sofa where you were sitting.’

‘But that was from after he was dead,’ said Tabitha.

Piozzi tapped on the keyboard of her laptop. ‘The police have interviewed everyone who was in the village and—’

‘Wait.’

‘Yes?’

‘There must have been lots of people coming and going. They can’t have interviewed everyone.’

‘Not on that day.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t you remember? The village was blocked off. There was a big storm and a giant chestnut tree that had blight was torn up by its roots and fell across the road. There was no way out and no way in. Apparently it took most of the day to clear it.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘But you were there, Tabitha, all day. You must have known.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Tabitha repeated. She felt like the last fragments of memory were flowing away like water through her fingers. ‘I don’t know if I knew.’

‘The police have a list of everyone who was in Okeham on the twenty-first of December. They also have your statement saying that you were in your house most of the day. They have statements from other witnesses, but I haven’t seen them yet. All we have at the moment is a police summary. I’ll get the rest later, well before the first court appearance.’

‘The trial, you mean?’

‘No. On seventh of February you will be officially charged. That’s where you plead. You know, guilty or not guilty.’

‘Isn’t there a chance they’ll realise that this is all wrong and let me go?’

Mora Piozzi gave a smile that didn’t look like a smile. ‘Let’s not leap ahead. I want you to tell me what you remember about the twenty-first of December. Take your time.’

Tabitha nodded. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. What did she remember? It was like looking into a night full of snow, a dizzying half-darkness, when even up and down seem reversed and the ground tilted beneath her feet.

‘I woke up early,’ she began. ‘But I don’t think I got up at once. It was cold outside, a horrible day. I remember it was half-snowing and then it was sleety, with a hard wind blowing. I started to make myself breakfast, then I realised I’d run out of milk so I just put a jacket on over my pyjamas and went to the village shop. I bought a paper, I think.’

‘What time was this?’

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at the time. Then I went home.’

‘Did you go out again?’

‘I had a swim. I always have a swim.’

‘How?’

‘What?’

‘Where’s the nearest swimming pool and how did you get there? Remember, the road was blocked after ten, so you would have to have gone and returned before then.’ She spoke with a warning tone.

‘In the sea.’

Piozzi’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You went swimming in the sea, in the middle of winter, on a day you describe as horrible.’

‘I do it every day,’ said Tabitha. ‘It’s a rule. My own rule. I have to.’

‘Rather you than me. You have a wetsuit, though.’

‘I like to feel the cold water on my skin. It almost hurts.’ She saw Mora Piozzi purse her lips slightly, as if Tabitha had said something she didn’t like. ‘People in Okeham probably think I’m mad. Anyway, I swam that day.’ She thought she could remember the bitter splash of waves on her body and the sharp, icy stones under her feet, but perhaps she was making that up. She swam every day. How was she meant to tell one from another?

‘What time?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. In the morning? I think it would have been the morning. That’s when I normally go.’

‘Did you meet anyone?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t think. I go every day, so things blur together.’

‘And after your swim?’

‘I went back home.’

‘Did you leave again?’

‘I think I did, but I don’t know for sure anymore. People have asked me so many questions that I can’t tell things apart.’

‘What did you do in your house?’

‘Not much. I can’t really remember.’

‘Did you speak to anyone on the phone?’

‘No.’

‘Or send any texts, or use your computer—you have a computer?’

Tabitha nodded. ‘I didn’t do any of that.’

‘Did you send emails?’

‘I don’t think so. I might have done some work.’