by S A Tameez
“I need to get back to the station and prepare for the interview,” She stood up.
“Of course,” he said, “I’ll get the bill.”
“I’ll see you back at the station,” she walked out without waiting for a response.
Chapter 24
The tall woman sat in front of Zoe had golden hair and a strong jaw line. Her smart red dress suited her. Her eyes looked swollen from crying and her lips were cracking. Zoe hated seeing people suffer like this – emotional pain was the worst pain in Zoe’s books. Physical wounds healed naturally, while emotional pain scarred for life. It gradually imploded inside you, destroying you from within. By the time the signs were visible on the outside, it was too late. Irreversible. Irreparable.
“Mrs Hyde, Can I get you something to drink?” Nick asked, “Water, tea, anything?”
She shook her head and stared down at the desk. She hadn’t requested a solicitor yet and looked as if she would break into tears any minute.
“First of all,” Nick said, “Can you please tell us where your son, Norman Hyde, is?”
She shook her head again.
“It is important that if you know of his whereabouts that you tell us so we can carry out our inquiries. You do understand that, right?”
She nodded but still didn’t say anything.
“So, I’ll ask you again,” Nick said, “Do you know where your son, Norman, is?”
“No,” she said faintly, “I don’t know where he is?”
“Do you know where we may be able to find him?”
She shook her head again.
“Mrs Hyde – let’s be clear here, we are not saying he has necessarily done anything wrong – but we need to find him so we can ask him some questions. You do understand that, right?”
She nodded.
“Can you tell us about the blue top?” Zoe asked, “Was that Norman’s top?”
“Yes,” she responded, losing the colour in her face.
“Why were you trying to burn it?” Zoe continued.
“I… I wasn’t specifically trying to burn the top,” She sat up straighter and responded. “I was doing the gardening, and I found his top. It was old and needed to be thrown away.”
“Can you explain the bloodstains on it?” Nick asked.
She swallowed just loud enough for Zoe to notice. Her eyes rolled briefly to the top left corner – only for a split second, but Zoe saw it. Lying was different from omitting information – it took more effort, more skill. Zoe imagined that if she could see inside her chest, her heart would be racing. She had moved her hands off the desk and placed her palms on her lap, undoubtedly due to the sweating. Her breathing became noticeably heavier. She was preparing to lie; Zoe could sense it.
“The blood on the top was from a dead rabbit we found in the garden,” her eyes moved from Zoe to Nick and then back to Zoe as if their eyes would let her know whether they knew she was lying. “The neighbour’s cat is always hunting birds, rabbits and everything else she can get her claws into. Norman used his top to pick up the rabbit and bury it. I told him not to, but he insisted, saying that the top was old, and he had meant to throw it away. I didn’t stop him as I hated the top. It was old and faded.”
“You do know that we have salvaged the top. It is with Forensics, and we will find out where that blood came from, right?”
“Right,” she responded, “Then they will know that it came from the rabbit buried in our garden,” she said more confidently.
“You do know that lying or hiding something is a criminal offence?”
“I do,” she said with her newfound confidence, “That’s why I wouldn’t do it. I have been a law-abiding citizen my entire life.”
“We know,” Nick smiled, “And no one is accusing you of anything, but we need to find your son and clear his name.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Detective. I wasn’t born yesterday. You think my son has something to do with the murder of that girl, don’t you?”
“We’re not implying anything. We’re only interested in the facts.”
“Here are some facts – Norman is a good, he’s a great boy. He hasn’t had an easy life. His father walked out on us, so we only have each other. He means everything to me!” her voice raised considerably, “I know him better than anyone else in this world and I can tell you he didn’t kill that girl! He isn’t a killer!”
“Ok, Mrs Hyde,” Nick said and raised his palms, “Let’s just try to take it easy.”
Tears rolled down her face, and she leant back as if her spine could no longer hold her up.
“I’m going to visit the address we have for Melisa Maddison,” Zoe said as they walked out of the interview room, “Unless you need me to do anything else?”
“No,” Nick responded, “that’s fine. Keep me posted.”
If there was something Zoe had learned over the years, it was that when things got awkward, it’s best to revert to professionalism and pretend nothing happened. It hadn’t let her down yet. All that thinking and reflecting on life was bringing, was misery and heartache – better to forget it and focus on the job. There was a killer out there and the truth, although buried under a tremendous amount of lies, was there. She had to find it.
Felicity Marshall or Melisa Madison as she preferred to be called, lived on campus. It was strange walking onto a university campus again. Observing people who should be in study mode but were constantly stuck in party mode. She thought back to her time in university as she waited at reception for the site manager to come. She wasn’t a party animal like her friends – though she did like to go out and socialise – she, unlike most of her peers, she preferred cinemas and restaurants over bars and clubs.
“How can we help you, Detective?” A chubby man wearing a dark blue polo shirt appeared. He looked flustered as if he had jogged here.
“I need to speak to a Melisa Madison,” she flashed her warrant card in the man’s face. “She lives here, on campus.”
“OK,” the man said strolling towards the reception desk, “We have had quite a few officers in already. I am assuming this is about the girl that was found.” He pointed at the signing in book on the reception desk.
“It’s regarding an ongoing investigation,” Zoe said as she signed herself in.
“Priya,” the man addressed the lady sitting at reception, “Can you go on the system and find where Melisa Maddison is staying, please,” he said softly and smiled at her. She didn’t return the smile. He then remained at the desk and stared at her while she tapped away on the keyboard. Zoe felt uncomfortable for the young lady with olive skin and sleek dark hair.
She looked up at Zoe and smiled.
“Arthur Tattersall House, she’s staying there. It’s on Gower Street—”
“I’m sure,” Zoe interrupted and then looked at the nametag on the man’s polo shirt, “Graham,” she smiled, “Wouldn’t mind showing me the way. Thank you for all your help.”
“Of course,” Graham said with obvious disappointment in his voice.
She took the smile from the pretty lady at reception as a token of appreciation.
The building was opposite the UCL main campus and had a typical London charm. Black metal gates ran alongside it, matching the black drains which flowed up the brickwork. The glossy black doors matched the black lamp posts on the street outside. It screamed the London brand.
“Melisa Madison,” Zoe said as a young, slender woman with afro hair answered the door.
“Yes,” she replied and carefully studied the warrant card Zoe flashed in front of her.
“I’m Detective Sergeant Zoe Hall. Is it possible to have a quick word?”
“Sure,” Melisa gestured for her to come in. Her room was tidy – expensive-looking rug lay stylishly in the middle of the room. A MacBook sat sophisticatedly on a glossy white desk. Colourful posters of people Zoe didn’t recognise decorated the walls.
“Nice room,” Zoe commented as Melisa gestured to the black leather sofa next to
her bed.
“Thank you,” Melisa said, “Are there are any updates with Sarah’s murder? Presumably, that’s why you’re here.”
“We’re working on that,” Zoe smiled, “We’re following a few leads.”
“The Freak!” she said, “Have you arrested the Freak? Norman what’s his face.”
“We are investigating all possible leads, I assure you. The reason why I’m here actually is to ask you a few questions to help us understand a few things better. Is that OK?”
“Of course,” She responded confidently.
“That’s great,” Zoe removed her trusted notebook, “So, how long have you known Sarah?”
“We met when we started UCL. We’re on the same course. So, it’s been about two years. But I feel like I’ve known her my entire life.”
Zoe smiled and nodded.
“I understand,” she scribbled what Melisa said, “I am assuming you were pretty close then.”
“She was my…” her bottom lip quivered, and she fell silent for a moment. Zoe thought of how she should react if Melisa were to start crying. She wasn’t a good comforter; in fact, she was the opposite. Whatever she would say and do would be wrong. Thankfully, Melisa didn’t break down and cry.
“She was my best friend,” she said after composing herself.
She may be a liar, a charlatan – she may even be many other things, but she was not responsible for the death of Sarah. That much was clear.
“I know this isn’t easy,” Zoe said, “but I need to ask you why you changed your name?” Melisa’s face suddenly lost its colour. “You’ve told everyone you are Melisa Madison, but your real name is Felicity Marshall.”
She remained silent for a few moments and then stood up and faced away from Zoe.
“What else do you know about me?” she asked without turning around.
“We know that you’re heavily in debt, while everyone around thinks your loaded.”
Her back slumped and she sighed in defeat. She turned around and sat back on the bed without making eye contact.
“Then, perhaps you know that I was in foster care my entire life. I only found my real parents last year and believe me it’s been a real rollercoaster.”
“Sorry, we didn’t know about you being in foster care. I can’t imagine that must have been easy.”
“Growing up, I had convinced myself that my parents loved me and that this was a misunderstanding or the typical story of my mother being incredibly young and not responsible enough to look after me… and I had always fantasised about her coming and finding me when she was ready. Apologising and taking me away to live with her. That never happened,” she laughed, “God, I was so naïve. I lived in a fairy tale. As I got older, however, I realised no one was coming for me. I was on my own and I always would be.”
Zoe didn’t know what to say. She came here with the clear intention to confront her about her lies and demand she gives answers. But after listening to what she had gone through, she wished she’d got the uniforms to bring her in as Nick had suggested. She hated when Nick was right because that usually meant she was wrong.
“I didn’t want anyone knowing Felicity Marshall. A broke orphan girl that no one gave a damn about.” She stood up and slowly paced the room, “I had often heard about people reinventing themselves in universities and colleges, so I enrolled as Melisa Maddison. A random name I found online. I wanted to be rich, have friends – be someone!” her eyes looked as if they were filling, and her voice became shaky. “I applied for numerous credit cards and loans – even I was surprised at how easy it was to get credit. Sweet-talking the middle-aged men behind the overdraft and loan approvals seemed to come naturally to me; I managed to socially engineer my way to thousands in credit. And before long, I was who I had dreamt of being.” She smiled. Not a real smile – a cynical, sarcastic smile. “An empty human who had desperately tried to compensate for the lack of love in her life with material nonsense.” Strangely, Zoe could relate to most of what she was said. The emptiness – filling the void… But this wasn’t a counselling session, or group therapy, Zoe reminded herself. She was here to get the details. She thought to say something comforting but decided it would be best to stay quiet and listen. Wait for her to finish, give a sympathetic look and then stir the conversation back to where it should be heading.
“I’m sorry,” Melisa said, “I didn’t want to lie to everyone, especially not Sarah. She was the only real thing in my life. She wasn’t interested in my money or façade. She was genuinely my friend.” She then looked at Zoe with a more serious look.
“Am I in trouble? You know, for the lying and debts and stuff.”
“Look, you seem smart enough to know that money doesn’t equal happiness and lying ends up getting you in trouble – but I’m not here to investigate your finances, I am here because we need to find the person who did this to Sarah. We need to bring the killer to justice and prevent the killer from doing it to anyone else. You do understand that, right?”
“Of course,” she nodded, “I want that too. It’s the least I can do for Sarah.” Her eyes filled but didn’t leak.
“Good. Now, is there anything you can tell us that might be able to help us. We know about Norman Hyde and are bringing him in for questioning. Is there anyone else you can think of who may want to harm Sarah? Anyone she may have owed money to or had an argument with?”
Melisa froze for a second, and her face changed. It was so brief that Zoe thought she might have imagined it.
“What is it?” Zoe asked.
“What? Nothing,” she responded.
“Melisa, listen, if there is anything you know that might help us, you must tell us. We are trying to help.”
“I know…” she said, “It’s just that… Sarah and Jane had a falling out not so long ago but—”
“Jane…” Zoe flicked through previous pages in her notebook, “Jane Taylor?”
“Yes,” Melisa said, “But she wouldn’t do anything like this. I mean, we’re all friends.”
“Can you remember what they were fighting about?”
“Erm… I wasn’t there. We went out to the Square, a restaurant in—”
“I know the place,” Zoe interrupted, not wanting her to get side-tracked. She would figure out the place later; for now, she wanted to know what happened. Exactly what happened.
The truth was always in the details…
“I went to the toilet with Talisha, another one of our friends, when I got back, Sarah was trying to leave and was like crazy upset. She wouldn’t talk to me about it, and when I asked Jane, she told me they argued over Sarah being spoilt, ungrateful and a real mood killer.”
“Was there any violence? From either of them?”
“No,” Melisa said, “I don’t think so.” She shook her head, “I mean, I wasn’t there, but no one mentioned anything about violence. Both Sarah and Jane are not the violent type. Jane can be a little bitchy but not violent.”
“What about your friend Talisha, did she see or hear anything?”
“I don’t think so. We went to the restroom together and came back at the same time.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Not really. I mean Talisha is a lot closer to Jane than I am. She went and spoke to Jane when I went after Sarah. I don’t know whether Jane told her more than she told me.”
“Ok,” Zoe said, taking note of the details.
“I want the killer caught,” Melisa said. Her eyes were filling again. She seemed too emotional to be a psychopath.
Or she was an incredibly articulate actor, her more cynical inner voice argued.
“So do we,” Zoe said with a sympathetic smile.
Chapter 25
Nick sat at his desk squeezing the soft stress ball his childhood friend Patrick mailed to him a while back. He wasn’t sure whether it was a hint Nick needed stress management or whether it was a joke – either way, Nick liked it and formed a habit of using it while he sat at his desk
thinking. Patrick moved to Wales and became a psychologist. They often joked that he was the only psychologist who needed a psychologist. He had a great sense of humour and Nick wondered why he got into such a career. He didn’t seem serious enough. Nick feared that there would come a time when a client would be sat on the couch of feelings and confessions, and Patrick would find something funny and make a sarcastic comment.
Each to their own he thought as he squeezed then released and then squeezed again. He made a mental note to visit him in Wales and catch up. Talk nostalgically about old times. Thinking about Patrick reminded him that he didn’t have many friends. Other than Patrick, he didn’t have any friends outside of work. He had no social life. He was pretty sure that if not for work, he would be a certified hermit. He didn’t like going out much. He didn’t care for socialising and despised noisy places.
He stared out of the window and thought about Zoe and her lack of enthusiasm in socialising and realised that they weren’t so different. They were both hooked on their work, and past events made them even more clingy. But he had Stacey. He looked at the wallpaper image on his desktop. He loved that photo – they had newly got together, and things were both scary and exciting. More exciting than scary. It was their first trip to Bournemouth beach as a couple. It was also the day he proposed to her and the day she accepted to be Mrs Bailey. A day he would never forget. Not planned, no engagement ring, nothing except a certainty that he was in love… again.
He never thought it possible to love anyone after Katie, but it happened. Not planned and not in his control. He wasn’t looking for anything or anyone – Stacey found him, and the rest was history.
He never told her about Katie, not the specifics anyway. Stacey didn’t care for the past and never really discussed hers either. Every time the conversation came up, he would say that he had been with a woman for a while but never cared for her not the way he cared for Stacey – which was not entirely a lie. He didn’t care for her the way he did with Stacey. With Stacey, things were easy, smooth and fit into place effortlessly. With Katie, things were complicated; emotions were launched like cannonballs and destroyed everything in sight. Regardless of how thorny and complicated it was, he loved her like no man ever loved a woman — besotted – infatuated – obsessed.