Cold Heart by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online Page B

through her fingers. ‘I got dressed, I got my purse and my sunglasses, just like I was going out shopping or something, but I didn’t put any make-up on, and then they took me to the station.’
    ‘Do you recall the name of the officer who questioned you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did Mr Feinstein come with you?’
    ‘No, he came on later.’
    ‘So you had no lawyer with you?’
    ‘No, I was on my own.’
    Lorraine jotted some notes, then looked up sharply as Cindy began to cry. ‘They said they found my gun, they said I did it, but I kept on saying over and over that I couldn’t have done it, that I wouldn’t have done something that bad even if I said I would.’
    Lorraine repeated, ‘“Said I would”?’
    ‘Well, I told you, I was always threatening him.’ Cindy’s voice steadied a little, and her chin lifted. ‘I was always saying I’d kill him, because he used to get me so mad. He could be so mean to me, I’d get mad as hell. I’d scream and shout and try to hit him, but he would just laugh, and that got me even madder, but I never meant what I said. It was just I was upset.’ She dissolved into real tears again – more at the memory of her anger and humiliation, Lorraine thought, than out of grief at her husband’s death.
    ‘I need a tissue,’ Cindy said, sniffing, her dark blue mascara beginning to run.
    Lorraine crossed to the shower area and headed for one of the toilets to get some tissue. She dragged off a length of paper and hurried back to the gym.
    ‘I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t kill him, even though he got me madder than hell!’ Cindy mopped her face, then blew her nose. ‘I didn’t kill him, did I? Please tell me I didn’t do it.’
    Lorraine bent down to her, in an almost motherly fashion. ‘But you didn’t do it, did you?’
    Cindy wiped her face and blew her nose again, her voice a hoarse whisper. ‘I don’t know. You see, it’s all blurred. I mean, I’d know, wouldn’t I? I’d know if I hud done it. That’s what you got to help me with, because I’m all confused.’
    Lorraine straightened up. One moment Cindy had given her a detailed description of what she had done leading up to the discovery of the body, the next she was asking if she could have been the one to pull the trigger. It didn’t make sense.
    ‘You’ve just told me how you found the body, Cindy, so why are you thinking now you might have killed him? ‘
    Cindy rocked forward, head in her hands. “Cos I can only remember going to the pool and seeing him in the water. Nothing before that. I do the same thing every day – I mean, I could be just filling in the gaps.’
    ‘But you said you heard the gunshot?’
    ‘Yes, I know. I know I said that .’
    ‘Are you telling me now that you didn’t hear it?’
    ‘ Yes. No, I heard it, I’m not lying to you. I heard that one, but . . .’
    ‘But what?’
    Cindy twisted the damp tissue in her fingers. ‘Maybe it didn’t happen when I think it happened.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘What if I’d done it before?’
    ‘You’ll have to help me, Cindy, I can’t follow what you’re saying. How do you mean before?’
    ‘Earlier.’
    Lorraine sighed. ‘You mean before you went to the balcony to sunbathe?’
    ‘No. I mean the first shot. When I was sleeping. I mean, I could have done it half asleep. Like in an altered state of consciousness – you know, the way people remember past lives, and sometimes they just act them out? I mean, I could have been a murderess or anything. Maybe I just couldn’t help myself.’
    Lorraine rolled her eyes as Cindy sprang to her feet, thinking that her client had been watching too many of her husband’s killer-bimbo fantasies. She watched the girl dive at the punch-bag and hit it, her face a mask of anger. Lorraine let her go until she tired herself out and eventually put her arms around the punch-bag, hugging it tightly.
    ‘Sometimes he didn’t come home,’ she said softly. Lorraine kept silent. ‘Often he stayed