by David Hatton
‘You can’t do this to me! She’s mad! I will sue you! This is harassment!’
Neighbours stepped outside to look over the commotion. Students vacated their apartments, wrapped in their duvets. They took out their mobile phones and shot videos and photographs of the events unfolding on their doorstep, streaming the chaos live to their FaceHub profiles.
Stepping out of his car, Michael leaned against the bonnet of his BMW. Robert was pushed towards the police car while the officer behind opened the door. He glanced down the road and caught the eyesight of his brother. To his right, an Alnus Incana hung its green branches over the vehicle, scattering a cool shadow over his sweating brother. Robert tilted his head and glanced at the bonnet of the car Michael perched upon.
Michael followed his brother’s eye-line to the dint beside his right leg. The marking, excused as a brushing with a lamppost two years before when he was handed the gift, appeared more profound than ever. A flashback of statements from his neighbours after Jason died raced around his head.
Peering back up at his brother, his heart thumped. He paced towards him and hovered over, staring down at the man with his face squashed into the metal hood of a police car.
‘You let me drive the car which killed my son?’
19.
“Life and death flow into one, and there is neither evolution nor destiny; only being.”
- Albert Einstein (1938)
The white bricked walls with only a single bulb for light gave Robert Walker a bleak insight into his future. To his right, a mirrored wall gave him full sight of the withered man he’d declined into over the previous weeks as his past haunted him. Behind the mirror, Morgan and Scott watched the suspect, discussing their strategy to undertake the interview.
The door opened, and a round man in a loosely fitted suit stepped in and shook the hand of the suspect. They read through paperwork and nattered, their mutterings muted to provide them privacy. Robert glanced down at his Hawaiian shirt and shook his head. They chatted for several minutes before Robert’s legal representation gave the thumbs up to the mirror. Morgan and Scott took a deep breath and entered the interview room, perching across from the suspect and his lawyer. Clicking the red dot on a small stereo to their right, they began to record their discussions.
‘Mr Walker, I’m Detective Rebecca Morgan and this is my colleague, Detective Scott. Please can you confirm that you’re Mr Robert Walker?’
Walker nodded.
‘For the purposes of the tape please can you speak aloud?’
‘I am Robert Walker.’
‘We’re here today to question you regarding the hit and run incident which killed your nephew, Jason Walker, and the murder of your sister-in-law, Suzanne Walker. Mr Walker has been read his rights. Mr Walker, do you have anything you want to ask before we begin?’
‘Yeah I do actually. Please can you tell me why you’ve got me here when the only evidence you have is some psychic making slanderous statements about me on television? I have a good mind to sue you.’
‘Mr Walker, we came to your house this morning to question you around your knowledge of the incidents based on a valid tip-off by a member of the public, rather than any spiritual motivation. Believe me, we need more than some morning gossip show to question somebody. And it was your actions which led you to be arrested. You were unreasonable and were clearly trying to flee the country.’
The suspect sighed, bowing his head to avoid the stern stares of his bald red-faced legal representative. Had he answered their questions, he could have avoided such an embarrassing scene and would have been on his way to sunny Portugal. Instead he’d missed his flight and would spend the following hours in their company. They’d only been in the house a few minutes before Robert pushed past the officers to run for his cab.
‘Mr Walker, please can you inform us of your whereabouts on the 29th July 2010?’ Morgan led the questioning.
‘I was in Leeds. The night before we were out celebrating a birthday party for my wife’s aunt’s sixtieth.’
‘When did you return to Manchester?’
‘We left the hotel about two and returned home around six.’
‘But hotel check-out is usually at noon. Why did you leave so late?’
‘No, we checked out at normal time but we went into town before we left Leeds.’
‘But you said you left the hotel at two?’ Scott reiterated Walker’s statement, pointing to his notes.
‘Yeah we left the car there. I’m not paying for the city centre prices when we’d already had it included in our stay.’
‘So you left Leeds at two, did you stop off anywhere on the way home?’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’ the lawyer interrupted.
‘We’re trying to build a timeline of events,’ Morgan explained. ‘Mr Walker, please answer the question.’
‘No, we didn’t stop anywhere.’
‘Then why did it take you four hours to get home?’
‘Huh?’ Robert grunted.
‘You said you arrived home at six. Leeds is only an hour’s drive, two at most, why did it take you so long to get home.’
‘There was a traffic jam.’ Robert cleared his throat. ‘There was a music festival on at Branham Park and it clogged up the junction.’
‘We’ll be inspecting the traffic reports, Mr Walker.’ Scott took note of the festival and the date.
‘You go do that,’ Robert said.
‘You say you got home at five. That’s conveniently after Jason was knocked over and killed by a vehicle matching the description of the car which you gave to your brother not long after his son was killed. What do you have to say about that?’
‘I’d say BMWs are popular cars.’
‘Especially around Didsbury, huh? Conveniently only two blocks away from your own house, down a road you would need to drive through to get to your home from the motorway?’
‘Absolutely. Don’t you know Didsbury? It’s full of young professionals who drive BMWs. Why do you think I got rid of it? I was blending in with that car. So I upgraded to a Merc.’
‘Is there anybody who can confirm your movements on the day in question?’
‘Only my wife, Elizabeth.’
‘Mr Walker, did you kill Jason Walker?’
‘I need some water.’
The waiting room was chaotic. The grumbles of impatience from relatives eager to speak to their troublesome families blurred amongst the invasive questions from the press, desperate for an update on the Walker’s family affairs. The key figure in the story which had captured the nation’s attention, pushed through the commotion wearing a cap to disguise his infamy.
‘Is there any update on my brother, Robert Walker?’ Michael asked the officer at the reception.
‘Not yet, he’s been taken in for questioning. Take a seat, we’ll keep you posted.’
He turned around to locate a seat, but his attention was drawn to the withering wife of his brother in the corner. Pale as a ghost and shaking like a James Bond cocktail, she stared into space, unaware of the familiar visitor who took a seat beside her.
In the corner, the television aired the same family-feuding show he’d endured on his previous visit. The show focused on a scruffy woman named Sally, who’d spent her alimony on drugs rather than her malnourished infants, while the host gave her a lashing of abuse.
‘We’d sure as hell make great guests on this show, wouldn’t we?’ Michael said and placed an arm around Elizabeth, giving her a small squeeze, before shuffling back as his embrace was unrequited. ‘Do you know what’s going on?’
‘No, they won’t tell me anything,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Do you think he did kill Suzanne?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What about Jason?’ asked Michael.
Elizabeth did not respond.
A jug of ice-water sat between the detectives, the suspect and his lawyer. Four plastic cups lay on each corner of the table and Morgan, keen to continue
with the investigation, filled Robert’s cup following his request for a break. To their right, the squeaking of the recording device continued. The table between them had worn with scratches and chips embedded into the MDF. Four plastic chairs surrounded it. All it needed was a chalk board and exercise books and it would have made a cracking classroom.
Detective Scott took over the interview, driving his attention to the second victim in this fiasco.
‘Mr Walker, where were you on the 5th December 2011?’
‘I was at home watching television,’ Robert explained.
‘Were you alone?’
‘No, Elizabeth was with me.’
‘What did you watch on TV?’
‘I don’t know. Please can I see a guide for that night? Do you remember what you watched six months ago?’
‘I think I’d recall my night quite vividly if it was a memorable date. After all, it was the night your sister-in-law went missing. So can you have a think?’
‘My client has already told you he doesn’t remember. Now move on.’ The lawyer spoke firmly.
‘Did your wife watch television with you?’
‘We usually sit together in the lounge, so as far as I remember, she was there.’
‘Do you think she’ll remember what you watched on television that night?’
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.’
‘We did, Mr Walker,’ said Scott, a small smile stretching across his face. ‘But here’s the thing… she told us she wasn’t home that night. She claims she was out watching Jackie Wallace’s show with Suzanne.’
Few words had passed between Michael and his sister-in-law while they waited for an update on their loved one’s fate, however they were not short on entertainment. A bloody fight unfolded between a thug and a witness, a prisoner’s pregnant wife arrived to query her husband’s rights to see their unborn child before bursting into labour, and a journalist was arrested for continuing to take photographs of the Walker family, despite the officer on duty reminding him to leave his camera outside.
The family feud on the television ended and an afternoon chat-show began. Live Ladies was hosted by five reality television stars who discussed the decreasing worth of men, their problematic children and the empowering rush of the menopause as they perched around a kitchen bench. Their daily celebrity guests consisted of gardeners, chefs and naughty novelists promoting their romantic stories.
‘Today’s guest became a household name overnight… literally last night… when she discovered the body of a missing woman simply by talking to the victim’s spirit.’ Roxy Smith, who found fame on a series documenting her days as a holiday camp entertainer, introduced the first guest. Fifty-nine in age but thirty-five in looks, the host had enough collagen injections to straighten out the skin of a baked apple. Her hair was bleached blonde and her breasts held implants large enough to keep a family of four afloat. ‘Today she revealed live on air the killer’s name! Please welcome, psychic medium, Jackie Wallace!’
Jackie met the applause from frantic fans within the studio audience. She kissed the cheeks of each presenter before lifting herself up onto one of the stools. Behind her, a pink wall had the show’s title in gold italic lights and purple feather cushions spread across the set.
‘Jackie! How are you?’ Roxy asked.
‘I’m very well, thank you. How are you?’
‘I’m well. I have to say I’m loving the yellow and black, are you, ladies?’ She turned to the audience who cheered Jackie’s outfit.
‘I live in Manchester and the bee is their mascot for how hard working they are, so I thought I’d wear the colours.’
‘Well we love it! So tell us about this murder you’ve been investigating in Manchester.’
Jackie retold the tale of her discovery, which she’d repeated earlier in The Morning Show. The audience gasped in awe of her abilities.
‘Oh my God, that’s amazing. How do you do it?’
‘It’s just a gift.’
‘And you were giving us readings in the dressing room backstage and, ladies, we can confirm how amazing she is! And what’s great is even more people will have the option to receive a message from you soon; is that right, Jackie?’
‘Yes! I’ll be touring the UK, visiting local theatres across the country. The tickets go on sale on Friday morning.’
‘Well we’re now going to a commercial break,’ Roxy announced. ‘But when we come back, Jackie will be delivering more messages from the beyond to our studio audience.’
The television show cut to an advertisement but Michael switched the channel before it returned. On the other side, three middle-class car fanatics raced across Route 66 in Lamborghinis while insulting the locals. The programme did little to distract him from the tension between Elizabeth and him. She sat beside him with her head down.
‘Do you know something I don’t?’ Michael asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘About Jason, or Suzanne?’
‘I don’t know anything.’
‘But you must know something. Your husband is currently being quizzed by the police. And you’ve had private sessions with Jackie. I just can’t sit here and accept that this doesn’t all connect. That you’re not holding something back. Since Jason died, you’ve been so distant from us and when I saw you at Jackie’s house, you couldn’t have left quick enough. What’s going on?’
‘Michael, please just let me be. I’ve had a pretty tough day.’
‘Not half as bad as the day I’m having, Elizabeth. We’re at the station waiting to hear who killed my wife, remember?’
‘Michael, leave it. I don’t know what I don’t know. I’ve answered the police officer’s questions. I don’t want to go through it all again. We’ll just have to see what happens.’
The temperature in the confined room grew to sweltering levels. Sweat poured down Robert’s forehead as he leaned his noggin against the white tiled wall. To his right, his legal representative shook his head and glared at his client. Morgan filled the jug of iced water and placed it between the four of them and smiled at her colleague, Detective Scott. Clicking the red dot on the recorder, they continued the interrogation.
‘Why would you lie about your wife’s whereabouts?’
‘Well maybe that was another night. Our typical evenings in consist of us sitting in the lounge watching television. Maybe I was mistaken about this particular night.’
‘Are you seriously trying to convince us that you can’t remember the night your sister-in-law went missing?’
‘She was disappearing a lot around that time. She cleared off all the time, returning a week later. Ask Michael, in fact check your own records. The reason you guys refused to search for her was due to her erratic behaviour. I thought it was another one of her episodes so I didn’t take much notice at the time. I was more concerned about what she was doing to my brother rather than her wellbeing.’
‘And where would she go on these episodes?’ Detective Morgan made inverted commas with her fingers.
‘She’d stay with friends, go to her parents… wherever she could. Ask Michael, he knows better than I would.’
‘You tried to prevent your brother from approaching the police when he received a lead regarding his missing wife.’ Scott changed the direction of questioning. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘I thought like everyone else that Jackie Wallace was a madwoman who was trying to exploit him. I tried to prevent him from embarrassing himself.’
‘But Jackie was right…’ Scott said. ‘Why would you prevent him from following a lead… any lead?’
‘You weren’t there,’ Robert barked. ‘I was the one wiping his tears, tidying his apartment and clearing up the mess every time he had a breakdown because of Suzanne. I couldn’t see him bringing all that up again. He was just on the verge of getting his life back together, he didn’t need this. Besides, you guys have no room to talk. You laughed him out of the station.’
‘I don’t believ
e you, Mr Walker.’ Morgan leaned in and placed her fists on the table. ‘I think you were scared that if the police searched that canal, we’d find something.’
‘That isn’t true. Why would I kill my sister-in-law? I have no motive.’
‘I think you accidentally killed your nephew and drove off.’
‘No,’ Robert yelled.
‘You then got suspicious that Suzanne had worked it out.’
‘No.’
‘You needed to keep her quiet.’
‘No. This is ridiculous. If I had killed Suzanne’s son, which I didn’t, how would she have found out? The driver has never been caught.’
‘Maybe Elizabeth told her. She looks like a fragile woman, maybe all the guilt stored up and having been a passenger in that car just became too much and she just burst. Whatever your wife told Suzanne, you had to make sure she had to be kept quiet so you made sure she never spoke again.’
‘No!’
‘You arranged for your wife to go out with Suzanne, then you followed her home and smacked her round the head, burying her body in the canal.’
‘No.’
‘You got away with it until Jackie Wallace came out the woodwork and told the world, not only about the body, but about your involvement.’
‘It’s bullshit. She’s a liar. I never harmed Suzanne.’
‘Then can you please tell us what you’re hiding because something isn’t quite right here. We’re losing our patience and you’re holding something back.’
‘You’re right… I am holding something back…’ Robert announced. The jaws of the detectives dropped, exposing their dangling red tonsils.
‘Mr Walker…’ Robert’s lawyer intervened. ‘I urge you to speak to me privately first.’
‘It’s fine, Oscar. I have to tell them this as I can’t keep this in any longer.’
The detectives’ hands clutched on to the sides of the plastic chairs, hovering over the edge as they awaited Robert’s confession. A glance at the red light reassured Morgan that every word continued to be recorded as they delved into Robert Walker’s secrets.