Free Stone Killer by Sally Spencer Page B

even occur to you to do that?’
    â€˜No, it didn’t.’
    â€˜So I’ll ask you again. Why?’
    â€˜I suppose I must have panicked.’
    â€˜I don’t believe you,’ Woodend said.
    â€˜I don’t care what you believe.’
    â€˜Don’t you want to get out of here?’
    Judith Maitland shuddered. ‘The only way that I’ll ever leave this terrible place is feet first. They stopped me from ending it all the last time, but they won’t the next.’
    â€˜I still don’t see why you decided to get drunk,’ Woodend persisted.
    â€˜I should have thought that was obvious, even to a flatfoot like you. I’d just seen a body.’
    â€˜Of a man who was no more to you than a business associate?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜In your situation, most people I know would probably have got drunk, too. But I doubt they’d have done it alone. They’ve have wanted someone there to hold their hands.’
    Judith Maitland smiled. ‘You keep using this phrase, “Most people”,’ she said. ‘I’m not “most people”, Chief Inspector. I would have thought you’d have realized that by now.’
    â€˜When “most people”
do
choose to get drunk alone,’ Woodend said, ignoring her comment, ‘they do it either because they can’t tell anybody else
why
they’re doing it, or because they’re afraid of what they might say when they’re drunk. Which of those was it in your case?’
    â€˜Neither. I’d had a shock. I needed a drink.’
    â€˜You had your caterer’s overall with you that night, didn’t you?’
    â€˜I always had it with me. I wasn’t the kind of boss who thought it demeaning to work side-by-side with my staff when the need arose.’
    â€˜Were you wearing it when you went into Burroughs’ office?’
    â€˜No. As I said, it was a business meeting, so I was naturally wearing my business suit.’
    â€˜Then where was the overall?’
    â€˜It was in the back of the van, where I always kept it.’
    â€˜And at what point did you put it on?’
    â€˜I didn’t put it on at all.’
    â€˜So what happened to it?’
    â€˜Happened to it?’
    â€˜You say it was in the back of the van when you got to the builders’ merchant’s yard, but by the time the police arrested you it had gone missing. Where do you think that it went?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Maybe the police took it away.’
    â€˜They said they didn’t.’
    â€˜Perhaps they’re lying.’
    â€˜They think you got rid of it because it was covered with bloodstains,’ Woodend said.
    â€˜Well, they’re wrong.’
    â€˜Did you like Clive Burroughs?’ Woodend asked.
    A look of revulsion appeared on Judith Maitland’s face for the briefest of moments, and then was gone. ‘I never really thought about it one way or the other,’ she said.
    â€˜Or did you hate him?’ Woodend asked.
    â€˜You’d like me to say that – to admit I hated him – wouldn’t you?’ Judith Maitland demanded. ‘Then you could go back and tell your friends – the screws – that they’ve got the right person in here after all. Well, forget what I said earlier, about not thinking about it. I
did
like Clive Burroughs. I thought he was a wonderful human being.’
    â€˜You hated him because he’d robbed you of the power to control your own destiny,’ Woodend guessed. ‘Exactly what kind of hold
did
Burroughs have over you, Judith?’
    Judith Maitland stood up so violently that she sent her chair flying off behind her.
    â€˜I want to go back to my cell!’ she said, almost hysterically. ‘I don’t want to talk to you any more.’
    â€˜Don’t you even want to hear why there’s this sudden new interest in your case?’ Woodend wondered. ‘Wouldn’t you