DCI Betsky pulled out another piece of paper from the same folder, spun it round and slapped it down in front of him.
‘For the tape, the witness is being shown item KXG-09. An email you received from the email address [email protected]. Do you remember this email, Rory?’
He did. The address hadn’t meant anything to him, except the first three letters, his initials. He had assumed someone was mocking him.
Hope you enjoyed the photos. Looking forward to your birthday drinks. Hope no one causes a scene. PS – I’ll be the one in red.
He still had no idea who it was, he told them. Not when he got the email, anyway. But then, that evening, when he’d walked into the kitchen, he had seen a girl, a stranger, in a red dress. Even without the dress, he thinks he would have known.
Lisa on her left. Serena on her right. Rachel was grinning. She had been laughing at him. Before he had known what was happening, there had been glass everywhere, blood dripping into golden pools of champagne. It had taken him a minute to realise the blood was even his.
DCI Betsky spun round another sheet of paper.
‘For the tape, the witness is being shown item KXG-10,’ she said. ‘This is an email you received the day after your birthday dinner, at 8.37 a.m., from the same email address.’
Enjoyed your dinner. Seabass was sublime. Nice house. No idea you were so rich! So price has just gone up. ￡100k, sooner rather than later. See you on Bonfire Night. Bring half. Unless you want to end up as the Guy.
The atmosphere in the room changed then. He felt his lawyer stiffen, push her glasses up her nose. The detective leaned in towards him.
‘You were being blackmailed, weren’t you, Rory? Rachel was threatening to ruin your marriage. She was threatening you physically. Wouldn’t you agree? What did you do after you received this email?’
He hardly needed to reply. They pulled his bank records, of course. A withdrawal dated 4 November, the day before Helen’s bonfire party, for ￡50,000. From the company’s account in the Cayman Islands. And CCTV photographs of the Greenwich Park branch of his private banking provider, showing him, Rory Richard Haverstock, organising the Cayman withdrawal and leaving the offices with a large white Jiffy bag containing the cash.
So yes, he admitted that he had taken the money. And yes, he’d been planning to give her what she wanted. He had wanted it to go away. He hadn’t wanted his wife to know.
Rory looks at me, his eyes pinched and raw.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’
For some reason, his tearfulness makes me angrier than ever. I shake my head. ‘Keep going,’ I tell him, my teeth gritted. ‘I mean it, Rory. You tell me everything. Or I swear to God I will walk out of here, and never come back.’ He nods, still staring at the floor. Takes a breath.
DCI Betsky didn’t flicker. ‘On the night of November 5th,’ she continued, ‘did you give the money to Miss Wells?’
He hadn’t, he insisted. He hadn’t even spoken to her. He went to look for her, later in the night, but she must have left. He couldn’t find her anywhere. He didn’t know what to do.
‘So what did you do?’
He did nothing. Just went home, hid the cash in his study.
‘You didn’t seek her out?’ DCI Betsky’s eyes narrowed. ‘This woman who was threatening to destroy your marriage? A woman you’d gone to the trouble of withdrawing ￡50,000 in cash for?’
He did seek her out, he insisted, sweat blooming on his forehead. He just couldn’t find her.
‘How interesting. You see, Rory, we have spoken to almost everyone who attended the party that night. Not one is able to vouch for your presence there after around 9 p.m. It seems you just … disappeared.’
That wasn’t true, he said. He was there.
Then the detective showed him a text message. The message had been sent from a number registered to Rachel Wells to his sister. Helen Thorpe. This message had been sent the day after the bonfire party.
Hey Helen. I’m really sorry about last night too. I’m going back to my mum’s for a while. I hope that we are still friends. Good luck with the baby. See you soon xxx. ‘I’m sure you’re aware, Rory,’ she said, ‘that telecommunications data allows us to pinpoint exactly where a mobile phone is when a message is sent. Our mast triangulation data tells us that this particular message was sent from an area matching the vicinity of your home on Maze Hill in Greenwich.’ DCI Betsky cocked her head to one side. ‘Could Rachel Wells have been present at your home the day after the party at your sister’s house, Rory?’