Amy Cooper Forever

by Craig Mullins

  FORTY FIVE

  December 22nd 2017

  It was nine o’clock, DI Sian Price had arrived from Norfolk a little over an hour ago. She had had to fight to be here, her boss eventually swung it for her by calling in a favour with a former DI now the Chief Superintendent of Hertfordshire Constabulary. He’d managed to get her an invite as an observer.

  “Sian, this is DI Jim Swales, he’ll be making the arrest tonight. There’ll be the two of you and two uniformed officers in case they’re needed. We don’t expect any issues, but you never know.”

  “Hi Jim, it’s nice to meet you.” She said extending her hand. He was six two, muscular with an angular jaw and Nordic appearance. But his good looks couldn’t hide his love of food or possibly beer.

  “You too Sian, it should be quite straightforward. We’ve checked into the guy and we can’t see any reason for him to resist. He seems to be living a normal life, he goes to work, has a family, I’m sure you have your reasons to believe he is the man responsible, but to be honest from what we have managed to get on him he appears squeaky clean. What exactly is it that you have?”

  “I realise what it looks like Jim, but believe me, I have been over and over the evidence a thousand times and this is the only theory that makes any sense. I’ll be happier when he is in custody, I don’t know how he will react once he realises we have connected the dots back to him. But the bastard has to pay, an innocent man has been languishing in jail while this piece of shit has carried on with his perfect life. To make matters worse he has a family, and what the fuck is that all about, I just don’t get it.” She vented like never before, her journey down gave her all the time she needed to let things fester in her mind. She still found it hard to comprehend that the young man she once knew was capable of such an act, and then to compound things even further he did what he did to her family. “In answer to your question, we have physical evidence – fingerprints and DNA at the scene. None of which we can use. A connection to the victim, they had some sort of a relationship when they were younger, and as of a few days ago I have a motive. The CPS won’t take it to trial with what we have, I am banking on finding some evidence at his house, or better still a confession. I have yet to meet a killer that doesn’t want the credit for their crimes, and that is what I’m hoping for.”

  “Did I hear it right? You know him?”

  “Yeh, from many years back, the kid I knew then I would never have believed capable of the crime. He was quiet, unassuming, a nice kid. If you had told me at the time he was responsible for the butchering of Amy Cooper I’d have laughed in your face. Even now the absurdity of it astounds me.”

  “So why do you think he did it? What was his motive?” Jim asked still unconvinced.

  “Jealousy – pure and simple. Though he managed to quell his revenge long enough to distance himself from the victim, and removing himself from our investigation. If the crime hadn’t been what it was I would go so far as to say I admire the lengths he went too. He left no element to chance, he only made one mistake and it had nothing to do with the crime.” Sian finished.

  At nine thirty they headed to the house, it had been decided there would be no sirens or flashing lights, they wanted this to go without incident. Sian was in the passenger seat of the unmarked BMW, Jim Swales was at the wheel and they were closely followed by a squad car with two uniformed officers. In less than ten minutes Sian knew she would be face to face with Amy’s killer, she realised she still had a lot of people to convince. The rain started to fall a couple of minutes out, both cars pulled up outside the house. Lights were on in the front window and there was movement within. Jim made it quite clear that he would do all the talking and make the arrest and that DI Sian Price was there purely as an observer. They walked quickly to the front door, the two uniformed officers closely behind. Sian wished she’d bought a heavier jacket as the rain was turning to sleet and there was a sharp bite to the air.

  FORTY SIX

  Pinky had gone upstairs shortly after dinner, his wife had cooked Spaghetti Bolognese – she wasn’t much of a cook. They’d had a very civil conversation, as usual centred on their two girls. Neither was currently at home, a friend was having a Christmas party and they had both been invited, Pinky had been tasked with picking them up at ten thirty. He had about thirty minutes until he would have to leave. Until then he sat with the last of his writing pads in front of him. He knew his wife would be downstairs washing up, so he should be fine for the few minutes he would need. She had no idea he had written the book, he kept the pads hidden under the removable panel in his wardrobe.

  The secret compartment also hid his one other prized possession, in fact he tried to look and feel it as often as possible. Amy’s underwear was his one last reminder of the girl he loved. He could still feel the warmth of her skin as he‘d removed them. The softness of her thigh as he pulled them off. He would often hold them to his face and would swear he could still smell her.

  Back to his writing pad, the one where he had previously written the words THE END. He crossed them out, he had forgotten one final paragraph. He remembered back to the day he started the book and the way he was going to begin. The difference now was that he was ready to write what he couldn’t back then.

  Dear reader, before I write those fateful words that will signal the completion of my book I would like to revisit the beginning. You may remember how I started to tell you something, well now seems a fitting time to fill you in. For the last few hundred pages you have known me as ‘Pinky’, I would now like to introduce myself properly – my name is Philip Thorne, and it has been a pleasure to have you all along for the ride.

  THE END

  As he wrote the last word he heard the doorbell, he quickly closed the pad and placed it with the others in the secret compartment. With the manuscripts safely tucked away he couldn’t resist once quick inhalation from the underwear. He heard his wife move towards the front door as he secured the wooden panel back in the base of the wardrobe, he covered the it with some old work clothes – jeans, sweaters and a couple of old pairs of football socks.

  Jim placed his finger on the bell, he still wasn’t sure they were doing the right thing. He could see movement through the single square pane of glass two-thirds of the way up the bright red door. The glass was obscure so he couldn’t make out much, but there was definitely movement inside. A few seconds later the door was opened. Hayley Thorne stood there dressed in a red silk satin robe that finished just above the knee, as she opened the door and saw the two people in front of her she self-consciously drew the robe tighter around her body. She wasn’t fat but had gained a few pounds over the years. She looked at the pair suspiciously until Jim produced his warrant card.

  “Hello, I’m DS Jim Swales and this is DI Sian Price.” At this point Sian also held out her warrant card for inspection. “Would you mind if we came in?”

  “What’s this about, are my kids alright? Has something happened?” She was panicking now.

  “No, we just need to speak to Mr Philip Thorne, is he here?”

  “Yes, he’s just upstairs, but he has to go and pick our girls up in a minute. Can this not wait until after Christmas?”

  “Who is it Hales?” A voice called from upstairs. Sian recognised the voice in an instant, in her mind she pictured the twenty-two year old rookie she felt sorry for. The day she arrived at the crime scene and this pale faced PC stood before her as if he was about to lose his breakfast.

  “Could we come in Mrs Thorne? It will make things easier.”

  “Yes sorry, please come in.”

  They walked in and she closed the door behind them. As they stood in the hallway Philip made his way down the stairs. “How can we help you?” He asked, Sian could see the shock on his face as he realised who was standing in the hallway. “Haley have you offered the officers a drink? Go and put the kettle on would you love. It’s freezing outside and I’m sure they would like something hot.”

  Sian knew what he was doing and was
happy to go along with it, she felt like she owed him that.

  “Would you like tea or coffee?” Hayley asked.

  “Coffee, black please.” Sian said.

  “I’m good thanks.” Jim said.

  Hayley walked off down the hall, Philip ushered them into the sitting room. A cosy space with a cream corner sofa facing a huge screen. A large claret rug covered Oak floorboards. DI Sian Price and DS Jim Swales took the sofa while Philip stood.

  “It’s been a long time Philip. Do you know why we’re here?” Sian asked, she knew this was Jim’s jurisdiction but he seemed quite happy for her to take the lead, he noticed the way Philip looked at her and sensed that there may have been more to their relationship than just colleagues.

  “Not really, no.” He answered, there was no way they could have got wind of his manuscript. He had only spoken to the inmates about his book, there was no one else he had told. So all he could think was that this was a fishing trip – they had nothing. It was true he was ready for the world to know of his crimes, but on his terms not theirs.

  “Philip, we need you to come to the station to answer some questions about Amy Cooper.”

  “I thought this had all been resolved, the bastard is serving life, why drag it all back up again. Her family deserve peace, don’t rake it all back up for them.”

  “Philip, we know. We know everything.” Sian said. She could see a fire in his eyes, he was battling some inner demon. The turmoil in him was evident, he must know that they could connect him to the family, he was married to Amy’s sister for god’s sake. They knew he had once been very close to Amy, he was her best friend. Yes it was true there was very little physical evidence against him, but she knew he did it.

  “I’ll answer your questions, I have nothing to hide.” He held out his hands wrists together, palm up in mock surrender. “It’s a fair cop guv’nor” He was mocking them. But his timing couldn’t have been worse, Hayley stood in the doorway mouth agape, a mug of steaming black coffee in her hand.

  “What’s going on Philip? Why are they arresting you?” Her voice shook as she asked.

  “Baby they’re.not arresting me, I just need to pop down the station with them and answer a couple of questions. It’s just a formality. I used to work with DI Price when I was on the force.” He omits that it was in Norfolk. He has been very selective what he has told her over the years, she still doesn’t know that he once lived and worked where her sister was brutally murdered. “Sian, if you want we can go now, get this over with?” He just wants to get the pair of them away from his wife. “Hayley, do you want to call an Uber to pick the girls up. I’ll be back before you know it.” He looked from Sian to Jim and back to Sian again hoping they would go along with what he was saying.

  “Sorry about the coffee Mrs Thorne, but Philip is right the sooner we get going the sooner we can get this sorted.” She stood and started toward the door, followed by DS Swales. They let Philip give his wife a peck on the cheek before they ushered him out to their car. Sian knew he wouldn’t be home anytime soon if she was right. A lot depended on him tripping himself up during the questioning or better still offering a full confession.

  Hayley had to make a phone call, she didn’t want the kids involved in any of this. “Hi mum, could you possibly pick the girls up from their friends please and let them stay at yours tonight?” She gave her mum the address and told she would fill her in later.

  FORTY SEVEN

  The ride back began pretty much in silence, Sian was worried about becoming too involved in the case, she knew that if it ever came out about their brief liaison it could jeopardise everything. The traffic was heavy and the rain was torrential, the wipers barely managed to keep up. Philip ‘Pinky’ Thorne sat in the back, hands cuffed, they had done this out of sight of his wife, Sian could tell that he wanted to talk. She only hoped he wanted to talk about the right things.

  “Why now?” He suddenly asked from his position behind her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What has changed in the last twenty odd years for you to suddenly turn up at my house and accuse me of a crime that was so heinous I’ve had nightmares all these years. You knew it was part of the reason I left the force and went into private security. Even now my job is guarding the monsters that have committed deeds that make my stomach turn. Why would you even think I could do such a thing.” She could sense a smugness to his tone

  “We have our reasons.” Her use of ‘we’ was deliberate, she knew it was her that believed in his guilt. Yes, she had persuaded her boss but it was going to be a harder sell when it came to the Hertfordshire constabulary. Even DS Swales had his doubts, all he saw was a normal middle aged man with a loving wife and family. She had to confess that on the outside he was.right but lurking below the surface was a monster. A monster who had murdered his one true love and then set out to marry her younger sibling, if that wasn’t the definition of a monster she didn’t know what was.

  “Sian, you know me, you know I could never kill.” He was playing with her now.

  “Then you have nothing to worry about when we question you, do you?”

  He never said another word after that, just sat in the back of the car in silence. Sian was grateful, she didn’t really want to get into a dialogue with him until it was on record. Although she was allowed to come to the arrest it had been made quite clear that she would not be allowed to question him. That honour was to go to Jim, though he had been given a list of questions by Sian.

  Back at the station while Philip Thorne was being booked in Sian and Jim made their way to the canteen, it was time for her to fill him in on exactly why she thought he was guilty. With any luck she hoped it would improve the way he questioned the suspect. She had seen it many times before when the interviewer believed the accused to be innocent, they tended to ask soft questions rather than trying to get to the truth. They sat at a table both with some brown liquid in a plastic cup sold to them as coffee, “So DI Price tell me why you believe he is guilty.”

  “Call me Sian, please.” She went on to explain all her reasons why. After an hour he rose from his chair and told her that he would be happy for her to sit in on the interview.

  FORTY EIGHT

  The cell was ten by six, a toilet in the corner stank of stale piss. Pinky looked around and thought how much better the ones at the old asylum were. He sat there thinking what his friends would make of his incarceration. Did this finally make him one of them? He always knew this day would come but he needed it to be on his terms. He was confident that he would be out in a few hours. They had nothing on him, the only evidence was back at his house – well hidden. His downfall would be if they discovered the underwear, they could link them to Amy. If he could get through the interview he decided he would hand them what they needed. It would be his way of telling them he had won, besides he had a plan in place that would allow him to carry on living as a free man. He was bored of his current life and he needed to start again, and he knew just how to do it.

  He could hear voices outside his cell, one was distinctively female, a voice that until today he had never thought he would ever hear again. Although he had only worked with her for a short while it had been quite eventful from what he remembered. She had always been nice to him, especially the day he found the love of his life lying butchered in the chalet. He had a smile to himself at his recollection of his acting prowess that morning. It was another hour before a rather attractive young WPC came and escorted him to interview room three. A black rubber topped table, three chairs and a recording device. He had been in many interview rooms like this, though usually he played the role the young WPC was playing today. It was a few minutes before he was once again in the presence of DS Swales and his old colleague DI Sian Price.

  They went through the usual formalities for the tape before DS Swales began his questioning. Pinky had refused the offer of a solicitor, instead telling them that he had nothing to hide.

  “Philip Thorne, did you know the
deceased Amy Cooper before the morning of July fourth nineteen ninety three.” He started with what should be an easy question.

  Philip ‘Pinky’ Thorne just sat there, a grin plastered on his face. He was going to have fun, if they thought his acting was good before then they hadn’t seen anything yet.

  They questioned him several times over the next twelve hours, each question he was asked he had an answer for. He admitted that he had known Amy but that was it, the more he was asked the more frustrated Sian got. Eventually DS Swales called it a day and instructed the custody sergeant to release him on police bail. Sian was pissed, but she understood that he had no option, if the tables were turned she would have done exactly the same. She thought to herself that he may have won this battle but there was not a hope in hell of him winning the war. If the law was incapable of dealing with a piece of shit like Philip Thorne then she would find another way to nail the son of a bitch.

  FORTY NINE

  “Why did they keep you so long?” Hayley asked her husband when he came through the door mid-morning the day after he was taken down the station.

  “Babe, can I at least have a shower and something to eat before you start the interrogation please?” He said as he walked straight past her and up the stairs, no cuddle or kiss for his wife. Fifteen minutes later he sat at the .Jali dining table he had always hated, he never understood his wife’s obsession with the Indian style furniture. If he’d had his way it would be more modern, maybe chrome and glass.

  “Why did they take you in? And don’t lie to me.” She said before placing a cheese omelette in front of him. The way the plate hit the table told him that she wasn’t happy. He looked at her closely, this was the first time since they had been married that he had seen the fire return to her eyes. When they first got together it was what had turned him on the most – her free spirit. She wouldn’t be told what to do, she was her own person. Over their married life he had driven it from her, small jibes here and there about her looks, her weight, anything that would slowly smother her spark. There came a point, and he remembered it to this day when it was finally extinguished.