it all right if I call you Marie?’ She nodded and he continued.
‘Women who are abused, or frightened of their husbands, are often in denial and say nothing because of fear of further violence. Your husband committed a violent sexual assault last night, and similarly other assaults he is suspected of, as well as a rape. These were all committed late in the evening, between ten and midnight. Were you never concerned about what Peter was doing out late at night?’
‘He drive a cab and always work evening shifts, some time until early hours. Then he can be with the children in the day. I only worried this morning when he not come home.’
Moran glanced at Jane and, turning back to Marie, asked if she had a normal, healthy, sexual relationship with her husband. Marie looked offended and shook her head.
‘My sex life not to do with you.’
Moran shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, it can’t have been that great if he had to go out and attack other women.’
Marie became tight lipped and continued to tug at her hair, winding the strands through her fingers in an almost obsessive manner. Moran got up from the sofa, walked over to Jane and stood with his back to Marie. Leaning forward, in a hushed voice, he said to her, ‘I think she’s hiding something . . . I want you to stay with her and see if you can get her to open up. I’ll go and search upstairs with Edwards and the SOCO.’
‘Yes, sir.’
She felt that Moran had been a bit harsh on Marie as she may have been totally unaware of what her husband was like outside his home life. It seemed unlikely to Jane, by the state Marie was in, that she would deliberately portray a loving family façade to protect her husband. When the others had left the room Jane sat down beside her, saying softly that the news must be an awful shock for her and asking if she would like a cup of tea or coffee. Marie shook her head, and without looking at Jane asked if her husband really had attacked her.
Jane hesitated before answering.
‘Yes, he did . . . but my split lip happened while he was trying to escape, so it may have been accidental . . .’
‘I can’t believe it! He never been violent towards me . . . never in all our time together. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers.’
‘So are you saying that your husband has never hit you?’
‘Never! I keep telling you, he is very gentle, kind, man. And he take care of us, here in our nice house.’
‘Do you own this house?’
‘No, we rent it. We been here five years. Before that we had very nice house in Maidstone.’
‘I’m so sorry but I need to ask you some embarrassing questions about your sex life.’
Marie began to frantically twist the curl on her forehead between her fingers. Without looking at Jane she asked if their discussion was confidential and just between the two of them.
‘Yes, Marie, it is completely confidential.’
Jane felt bad knowing that she would later have to report whatever Marie told her to DI Moran.
Marie took a deep breath, stopped nervously twisting her hair and looked at Jane.
‘He always been gentle in bed, and even though we not have sex recently, he never been pushy or forced himself on me. He would never do that . . . he always very thoughtful, even now when . . .’ She stopped and Jane sensed she was holding back about something.
‘What did you mean when you said you hadn’t had sex recently?’ Jane asked gently.
Marie continued, saying that it had been about six months. She had an ovarian cyst, which made sex very painful, and she was waiting for an operation on the NHS.
Jane sympathized.
‘I am so sorry, Marie. I had an aunt with the same problem, and I remember she said it was extremely painful. So if you couldn’t have sexual intercourse in the normal way, did you try any other methods?’
Marie blushed and bowed her head, deeply embarrassed as she continued explaining that although they couldn’t have full sex she regularly pleasured her husband with masturbation and oral sex.
‘He want me to try anal sex but it hurt too much, so he stopped and he never ask again. You see what I mean about him being kind and gentle?’
‘And you were never suspicious when he was out late at night?’
‘No, never. He sometimes call me three or four times to make sure I am OK.’
‘Thank you for your honesty, Marie.’
Marie seemed relieved to have discussed such personal matters, and was calmer now. ‘Please, tell me what my husband has done? I can’t believe it.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t go into the details of the investigation.’
‘Please . . . I need to know, to try and make sense . . . Why you here? Why you searching my home?’
‘All I can tell you, Marie, is that your husband is adamant he didn’t commit any indecent assaults or rape . . . but he did attack me.’
Marie looked perplexed. ‘If he didn’t do them, then why he attack you?’
‘I don’t know . . . only he can answer that. You need to ask him yourself, Marie. They might let you speak to him if you visit the station later. Here’s my contact information at the station – please call me if you have any questions or want to tell me anything else.’
Jane scribbled her details onto a clean page in her notebook, which she then tore out and gave to Marie.
As Marie put the folded note into her pocket DI Moran walked back into the room. ‘We’ve searched yours and the children’s bedrooms, but why is the third bedroom locked?’
‘My husband uses it as a gym, he didn’t want the children going there and hurting themselves on the equipment.’
‘Do you have the key?’
‘I don’t know where he keeps it.’
‘Isn’t that a bit strange? That your husband wouldn’t tell you where the key was?’
‘I don’t know, not really.’ Marie shrugged.
Moran looked at her hard, then left the room to go back upstairs.
Jane noticed that Marie had become very tense, her hands clenched at her side. Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound from upstairs as the officers kicked open the locked door. Marie was on her feet in an instant, running up the stairs and shouting at them to stop ruining her house. Jane followed to try to calm her down. The bedroom door had partially come away from its hinges and the lock lay on the floor among splinters of wood. Inside the small room was a five-foot-high thick wooden pole with bits of rounded twelve-inch wooden handles sticking out of it. Two rectangular leather bags of sand were screwed into the wall and hanging above them was a collection of martial arts swords, and two wooden sticks connected at one end by a short
