by John Nicholl
I listened intently as Maisie spoke to her partner. I only heard one side of the conversation, but I was still able to make sense of most of it. She looked across at me on putting the phone down, her tone was urgent, her body tense.
‘Rob’s going to speak to Laura Kesey straight away. You can expect a phone call sometime this morning. You’ll need to make a written statement. It really is important. This isn’t a time for delay.’
I rose to my feet, pleased with developments. I had the opportunity to misdirect the police investigation. I saw that as a major positive. I’d have to hold my nerve, of course, and stick as close to the truth as possible. And I’d have to tell the police what I needed them to hear, just as I did as a child. If I could do it then, I could again. It was a case of repeating the past.
‘Thank you, Maisie, you’ve been brilliant. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re the best boss a girl could have.’
19
I only had to sit and wait, twiddling my thumbs, playing with my cuff, for about ten minutes before my office phone rang out, making me jump. I fingered my bead necklace with one hand as I held the phone to my face, confirming my identity following DI Kesey’s introduction. She quickly confirmed what Maisie had told Rob and then asked me to come to the police station where she would interview me personally.
I asked, ‘When?’
And the DI replied, ‘Now.’
Just that one word and I was on my way. Within a few minutes, I was driving out of the probation office car park, onto the main road, and turning left towards the police station on the other side of town. It had all happened so very quickly in the end, and my initial confidence was starting to wane ever so slightly. It was so very different to when I’d been a teenager. It felt as if there was much more at stake now. Maybe a bit of me was enjoying the killings. That thought troubled me as I drove on. Such things are so confusing. Perhaps it was the stress that was getting to me. It was so very hard to get my thoughts straight in my head.
My chest tightened as the traffic slowed in front of my car. My meeting with Kesey was going to be pivotal. I had to be convincing. My evidence had to be compelling. I had to contradict their elderly witness and do it well. Nothing less was acceptable. There was far too much to lose.
Kesey was waiting to greet me in reception when I entered the modernist building. She reached out, shaking my hand warmly with a surprisingly firm grip. She spoke in that same Midlands tone I’d heard on the television. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Alice, your co-operation is appreciated.’
I smiled, keen to appear friendly and relaxed. I did not want to seem in any way ill at ease. Nothing to suggest I was anything other than a reliable witness. ‘It was the least I could do in the circumstances. I’m delighted to help if I can. It’s a horrible case.’
The detective was quick to respond as she took a backward step, looking me in the eye. ‘So, why not contact us sooner? Why the delay?’
That unnerved me. Was she suspicious or merely inquisitive? I still don’t know the answer to that one. I should have anticipated the question. I had to think fast. ‘A migraine came on as I was watching the news report. It’s a regular affliction. I took some strong painkillers prescribed by my doctor. They made me feel drowsy. It’s an unfortunate side effect. I went for a lie-down and didn’t wake up again until morning.’
The detective tilted her head at a slight angle, studying me, her expression suddenly softening as if she’d accepted my explanation as reasonable. Or, at least, that’s how I read it at the time. ‘All the interview rooms are in use. You’re here as a witness. There’s no need for formality; if you follow me, we can talk in my office.’
I talked as I walked, following her towards the lift. ‘Are you any nearer to catching the killer?’
She chose to ignore my enquiry, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. It’s a tactic the police sometimes use. It gives them power. I saw it in a true-crime documentary some months back.
‘How long have you worked for the probation service?’
That was one I could answer without any difficulty. ‘I’ve been there since completing my degree course a couple of years ago.’
Kesey led the way into her second-floor office, holding the door open for me to enter first. It was a small, brightly lit room, with a single window overlooking the car park: nothing remarkable, just a workplace like any other. ‘Take a seat, Alice, and we’ll make a start.’
I noted a silver-framed photo of a woman and a young boy on her desk as I pulled up a chair. The child looked about five or six years of age. It was a happy photo. I pointed at it with a smile. ‘Family?’
She nodded, her head moving only slightly. ‘Right, let’s make a start. I need you to tell me everything you saw, and I do mean everything. This is a murder investigation. The detail matters.’
My seat was padded with a suitably shaped backrest, but I couldn’t get comfortable. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘How about at the beginning? I usually find that’s best.’ She appeared to be losing patience. I needed to up my game.
‘Well, it’s exactly as I told Maisie. I went to bed early that night, but I couldn’t sleep. My little sister has been unwell. It was playing on my mind. I hate to think of her suffering.’
Kesey picked up a pen. ‘Okay, so you got up, what happened next?’
‘I made myself some herbal tea, camomile with a little honey to help me unwind, and then I went out for a drive. I do sometimes when I’m stressed. It helps me to relax.’
‘Where did you drive to?’
This was it. This bit mattered. We were getting to the crux of my story. ‘I ended up at the coast, at the beach resort where the dead man’s car was found.’
‘And you claim you saw it?’
I replied immediately. ‘Oh, yes, I did. There’s no doubt in my mind.’
‘What’s your eyesight like after dark?’
‘It’s excellent, it always has been.’
‘Were you wearing glasses?’
I pressed my knees together to stop myself shaking. ‘I wear contact lenses, never glasses, I don’t find them comfortable.’
She appeared to be studying the bridge of my nose. ‘Okay, I want you to think very carefully. Are you certain it was the car we’re interested in? Couldn’t it have been a similar one? It’s a common model.’
Two questions in one. Both of which were hard to answer with conviction. ‘I parked immediately in front of it, near to the ramp that goes down onto the sand. I know what I saw.’
‘That doesn’t explain why you’re so sure.’
‘It was the number plate, the fifty-two, that’s my lucky number. I took it as a good omen. You know, as if God was sending me a sign that my sister’s going to be okay. I know that probably sounds ridiculous to you. But it’s how it was.’
The detective looked less than convinced. ‘Did you see the driver?’
My left eye began to twitch. I reached up, touching my face to stop it. Kesey was asking questions she already knew the answer to. But why? Was she trying to catch me out? What the hell? Maybe, it was a definite possibility. This interview wasn’t nearly as easy as that with the nice officer following my father’s death. ‘Oh, yes, I had a very clear view of him. I was no more than twenty feet away. And he’d stopped the car under a street lamp.’
Kesey cleared her throat. ‘Okay, now this really matters. You said him, not her, him. Are you certain the person you saw driving that car was a man?’
As soon as she asked that question, I knew I was winning. ‘One hundred per cent, I couldn’t be more sure, I’ve got no doubt in my mind. There was a man in the driver’s seat. There is no way it was a woman.’
I could tell it wasn’t the answer she was hoping for. The police hate inconsistencies. It was written all over her face. But she had to accept my verbal statement if I drove it home. I was credible; I’m sure of that. I didn’t have a police record, not even a parking ticket. And I was a grad
uate who worked for the probation service.
‘Was there anyone else in the car?’
‘No, just the one man, the one behind the wheel.’
She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Can you describe him for me?’
Oh, yes! Things were going my way. I described my father. I could picture him clearly. The second useful thing he’d done in his life.
The detective inspector made some notes. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me about the driver before we move on?’
‘No, I’ve got nothing to add.’
Next Kesey clarified the times. She asked me what time I’d left my cottage that night, what time I’d arrived at the beach, what time I’d seen the car, and what time I left to drive home.
I told her what I needed her to hear.
‘And you’re sure it was that night? Could it have been another date? If you’ve got any doubts, any doubts at all, now’s the time to tell me. No one’s going to hold it against you.’
I met the officer’s gaze and shook my head. ‘I’ve told you what happened. And I truly hope it’s helpful. The thought of a deranged killer roaming the Welsh countryside is truly terrifying. The quicker you catch the madman, the happier I’ll be.’
Kesey sighed as she took a statement form from a desk drawer. ‘Okay, I think that’s it for now. Let’s get a statement down on paper.’
20
I arranged a girls’ night out with Maisie the following Friday. I would like to have met with her sooner, but she said she only socialised at weekends because of work.
We met at an atmospheric Indian restaurant that’s popular with locals. You know the sort of place I’m talking about: warm, vibrant colours and layers of texture, beckoning visitors to come in and get comfortable. It’s called the Taj Mahal which seems to suit it perfectly. There are large, brightly coloured paintings of the iconic monument on two of the four walls. The restaurant has won an award for the quality of its food. Or, at least, that’s what the certificate says in the front window. It’s a bit faded now that I think about it. So it could say just about anything at all. Not that it matters. I was there to solicit information, not to enjoy a convivial meal.
Maisie was already seated at a table for two when I entered the restaurant a little after seven that evening. She looked so very different from when we’re in work, less formal with more make-up, long lashes, dark mascara making her eyes pop, and bright scarlet lipstick highlighting her mouth.
I, in contrast, hadn’t made much of an effort at all. I felt dowdy by comparison as I waved to greet her. But it hardly mattered. I have no interest in the males of our species, not in a sexual way. My new boss is very different, and I’m grateful for that. No Rob would mean no information. Without him, I wouldn’t have been in the restaurant at all. I sat down opposite her, the first to talk. I wanted to run the show. ‘You’re looking nice tonight, very glamorous. What a lovely dress!’
Maisie sipped her wine, a house white. ‘What, this old thing? I’ve had it for ages.’
‘Well, you look wonderful.’ I was wearing a pair of old white trainers, blue jeans and a charity shop jumper. What could she possibly say in return?
‘It’s nice to see you away from the office.’
Ah, so she had some tact. I nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, sometimes you just click with someone. It’s been good to get to know you better. You’ve become a friend as well as my manager. I’m sure we’re going to have a lovely evening.’
Maisie smiled warmly, revealing cosmetically enhanced teeth which looked excessively white even in the dim lighting. I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed them before. Maybe it was the scarlet lipstick – that dramatic contrast. The colour reminded me of blood.
She picked up her glass. ‘Are you going to join me?’
I wanted her drunk and me sober – anything to loosen her tongue. ‘Maybe just the one, I’ll be driving home.’
‘Rob dropped me off. He’s good like that. He calls himself my taxi service.’
I forced a laugh that sounded strange even to me. ‘Lucky you; make the most of it. You deserve it.’
She handed me a menu, pushing it across the table before picking another up herself – a couple of minutes passed with us both perusing the many meals on offer. There were so many options, but I knew exactly what I wanted. Maisie was the first to lay her menu back on the table. I was keen to give her the illusion of control.
She said she would have the lamb pasanda with pilau rice and onion bhajis. And then she asked if I was ready to order.
I replied in the affirmative. I always have the same thing, a mild vegetable curry with plain, boiled rice. I’m not a meat-eater. Does that surprise you? Some may see it as a contradiction. But I don’t see it that way. I’m a lover of animals. I didn’t need to look at the menu at all.
We engaged in worthless gossip until our food finally arrived about twenty minutes later. Maisie had drunk three glasses of wine by that time, with my encouragement to consume more. I poured my wine back into the half-empty carafe when she made a brief toilet visit. She didn’t register it at all.
Maisie ordered a lager when she returned to our table, claiming it better suited her spicy fare. She was probably right, and I may have joined her in different circumstances. But I ordered water and stuck to that. With each drink, she became louder and less discreet. When she began talking of her sex life, I knew the time was right to redirect the conversation to my advantage. I lowered my head, took a paper tissue from a trouser pocket, and began dabbing at each of my eyes in turn.
‘What’s wrong, Alice? I hope I haven’t said something to upset you.’
I screwed up my face. ‘No, it’s just the murder case. It’s so awful. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve got a horrible feeling I didn’t help the police at all.’
‘What on earth has given you that idea? Rob says DI Kesey’s relieved you spoke to her when you did. The old guy he interviewed sent the investigation in completely the wrong direction. Rob compared it to the Yorkshire Ripper case. You know, when that idiot man sent a tape in claiming to be the killer. Rob doesn’t think the old guy lied. But it would have had much the same negative effect on the investigation if it wasn’t for your evidence. You really did save the day.’
I returned the tissue to my pocket with a thin smile. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, yes, absolutely, you may well have described the killer.’
And then I said something foolish. I revealed my true feelings like never before. How very stupid was that? Right there in that restaurant. I’m sure my absent father would have loved it. Was he there in the room, watching his idiot daughter dig a deep hole for herself before jumping right in? I see things in black and white, simple, uncomplicated, with no shades of grey. I sometimes forget that not everyone does.
‘At least our killer only murders nonces. Would it really matter if he killed a few more?’
Maisie pulled her head back, spilling the little that was left of her drink onto the tablecloth. ‘Alice! I can’t believe you said that.’
I should have shut my ridiculous mouth right there and then without saying another word. But for some reason, I didn’t. What a stupid girl! Maybe my father was correct all along.
‘At least it would save us the hassle of supervising the perverts.’
Maisie sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. She had a sour expression on her face for the first time that evening. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. ‘I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. We’re not in work, so I’m going to ignore it. But I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again.’
I bit my tongue hard. It was the only way I could silence myself. I tried to laugh. But I couldn’t force the sound from my mouth. ‘I’m so very sorry, Maisie, I was playing devil’s advocate. What I said didn’t reflect my true feelings, not in the slightest. Honestly, it didn’t, I was being provocative, that’s all. I just wanted to know what you thought. Your opinion
really matters to me.’
She relaxed slightly but only slightly. ‘Are you sure that’s true?’
I held my hands out wide, my fingers spread. ‘We’re friends; I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t. Our relationship means far too much to me to damage it with lies. The truth is, I’d like to do more work with sex offenders. I want to contribute to changing their behaviour as you do. You’re my heroine, and I want to be like you. I may even study for my probation practice diploma. I think I could do it with your help.’
She burped at full volume and grinned. The alcohol was working its magic. ‘Wow, I’ve never been an inspiration before. And as for becoming a probation officer. You’re more than capable. And I’d support you every step of the way. It sounds like a marvellous idea.’
‘I’d love you to be my mentor. Will you help me learn?’
She gestured to a waiter, ordering more alcohol before formulating her reply. ‘How about we start as we mean to go on? How would you feel about sitting in on a multi-agency risk assessment meeting next week?’
‘Oh, yes, please, that sounds fascinating.’
‘A high-risk offender named Arthur Simpson is being released on licence on the third of next month. He’s served half of a sixteen-year sentence for child rape. He’s completed the sex offender programme. He’s fully co-operated, accepted responsibility for his past crimes, and is being released early for good behaviour. The parole board made the decision. They believe he’s a changed man.’
Like fuck he is! I thought, but kept my mouth shut. It seemed wise.
Maisie stalled, raised her glass to her mouth, drank, and smiled again before continuing. ‘Am I coming on a bit strong? What with all this work talk. It’s Friday night. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.’
‘No, no, not at all, I’m finding everything you’re saying incredibly interesting. Please tell me more.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure?’
‘I’m fascinated by this stuff, the complexities of offending behaviour. People’s capacity to change. And you’re the expert.’