“Will I be able to leave here after the interview?”
“Hopefully. It depends on what new evidence they’ve got. You’re not here under arrest.”
“Well, they didn’t have enough on Friday to charge me. So hopefully that’s still the case.”
* * *
No alibi.
A tendency to drink.
A charge of violence.
An anger over lack of return on investment.
The evidence is stacking up.
Chapter 31
DI Green does the interview preliminaries for the recording. I feel reassured by Alan Wright’s presence. Less alone.
“Fiona, when we spoke last week, you denied all knowledge of having taken your car to Hill End Garage in Ilkley for a nearside tyre replacement. This is despite a statement being made, giving details of a woman being there on the Monday seventh of June at eleven am. She matches your description, and gave your personal details, right down to your registration number.”
I don’t like the way she repeatedly uses the word your. I’m unsure how to answer, or whether to say no comment. Luckily, Alan wades in.
“I take it,” he says, “that it would have been the nearside of the vehicle that hit Mr Matherson, when the incident in question took place, if he was cycling on the left of the road.”
He’s got such a way with words, Alan has, describing Rob’s death as the other matter, or the incident in question. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or amused by him. This is no time for either. This is serious stuff.
“That is correct. Both Mr Matherson and the car were travelling towards Ilkley. The garage is the closest to where the incident happened.”
“Does it have CCTV?”
A lot of Alan’s questions centre around CCTV. I guess it’s what is needed nowadays to nail someone. And forensics. Doesn’t he realise though, that he’s in the tail end of nowhere here, where half of the neighbourhood comprises sheep and cows?
“Unfortunately not. It’s a small, back-street garage. But we’re satisfied that the mechanic’s description of Fiona, and the fact that they took her registration number for the service receipt, are proof of her attendance there.”
“What about other CCTV? Around the garage, perhaps? Or in the vicinity of where the incident took place. Surely you have to prove her presence beyond all reasonable doubt.”
“Both areas are in the more rural locations – the accident site and the garage.” PC Robinson echoes my earlier thinking. “We were hoping for some dash-cam or farmhouse footage but so far, we have turned nothing up.”
The glee in my solicitor’s face heartens me. It is the first glimmer of hope I have felt all day. “And there are no eyewitnesses to the accident?”
“I’ve got two statements here, one from the farmer who stayed with Mr Matherson at his time of death, and the other is from the garage operative.”
“Is there any firm evidence in either of those statements to definitively place my client at each scene?”
DI Green appears to skim read the page. “The farmer reported seeing the roof of the car that drove away. He described a four-by-four vehicle, like the Jeep Fiona drives.”
“The garage operative has given the description of a woman, aged around forty, with long, light brown hair and medium build,” PC Robinson adds.
Alan laughs. “You’re going to have to do better than this to make the charge stick to my client. It sounds to me, that with nothing more concrete, you’re trying to make her a scapegoat.”
“Do you know about his ex-wife’s car,” I say, trying not to be perturbed that my age has been estimated to be four or so years older than it is. “I saw it this morning, and it’s damaged. Front left headlight. It’s got a dent in it too.” I feel a surge of satisfaction as PC Robinson writes this down. “Denise Matherson. It’s not a four-by-four that she drives, more of a people carrier, but it could easily be mistaken for a four-by-four if only the roof was seen.”
“You say you saw this damage today?” PC Robinson writes something else.
“Yes. She came to my house, carrying on about money. Making threats of what will happen if her daughter doesn’t get what she is entitled to.” I draw air quotes in the air, resisting the temptation to garner some sympathy for the financial mess I’m in.
“That may well be,” DI Green continues. “But it still doesn’t explain your own tyre replacement, only thirty minutes after your husband had been mown down, just a few miles along the road.”
“Especially when you haven’t got an alibi,” PC Robinson adds.
Are they even interested in what I’m saying? “You know about Denise contacting Rob about money on the morning he died as well, don’t you?”
“Isn’t that what’s behind this mess?” DI Green says. “Money? For the benefit of the tape, I am now showing Fiona Matherson and her representative copies of four documents. They are as follows:
A joint agreement signed by Robert and Fiona Matherson, in acceptance of a loan of fifty thousand pounds, dated 10th May.
Secondly, A joint agreement signed by Robert and Fiona Matherson, in acceptance of a re-mortgage agreement, dated 11th May.
Next, a statement for a joint account in the names of Robert and Fiona Matherson, showing a credit for one hundred and twenty-two thousand pounds from a subsidiary account of Bracken Furniture Limited.
And a transcript of text messages, taken in the month leading up to the death of Mr Matherson. There is a demonstration of volatility in their relationship, particularly a mistrust of her towards him. If I could draw your attention to three messages in particular. They are marked with a cross in the margin.
Alan and I bow our heads over the page:
15.5.21 Where the hell are you Rob? It’s the middle of the night. It’s no wonder I used to turn to drink.
18.5.21 You said you were working. So how come I’ve seen your car in the middle of town?
20.5.21 I need to talk to you. You’ve been seen.
“What do those messages relate to, Fiona?”
“Nothing. I just got insecure sometimes.”
“What did you mean by you’ve been seen.”
“He was in a coffee shop with Bryony. Look, no wife wants to put up with their husband meeting an ex for a cosy drink in a café.”
Alan raises his eyes from the page towards DI Green. “I hardly think this is what I’d call concrete evidence against my client.”
“I agree, to a point.” DI Green places another page on top of the first one. “It’s more about the accumulative effect of it all. These next messages prove you were in it up to your neck, by that I mean, financially, with your husband. Again, I’ve highlighted the messages of interest with a cross.”
13.5.21 Have you paid it in yet? This could change our lives.
23.5.21 So what about this money then???
24.5.21 You said it would all have come good by now. If I find out you’ve risked everything on a whim, I’ll make sure you’re left with nothing.
“So?” DI Green sits up straighter in her seat.
“I’ve already admitted to putting thirty grand into Rob’s investment opportunity. But I didn’t agree to him also emptying our ISA. Nor did I agree to him taking out a loan or re-mortgaging our home. He must have forged my signature. And I didn’t know a thing about him taking money from his employer’s business.”
“Phillip Bracken disagrees. Having worked closely with Rob for many years, he believes you would have been the driving force behind your husband’s embezzlement, particularly since the gains went into your joint account. To say he’s upset is an understatement.”
“What was the subsidiary account these monies were paid from?” Alan glances up from his notebook, pen poised.
“Two accounts - both opened by the company and fed through their books over a six-week period. One was operating under the guise of paying a supplier, and the other, a contractor.”
“I see. But if it’s only Mr Bracken’s hunch that Fiona was in
volved, I’ll reiterate my previous point. It isn’t enough to warrant a charge. Or even an arrest for that matter.”
I’m so grateful for his presence here. I am stupid for sitting through my previous interviews without him.
DI Green shifts in her seat. “We are here to find out facts. Your client is not under arrest for fraud charges -yet.”
“I knew nothing about any suppliers, or contractors. Nor did I know about any loan or re-mortgage. Rob handled everything to do with money. And I trusted him.” More fool me.
“It doesn’t sound like you knew nothing, not from these texts.”
“Are you intending to charge my client with anything, Detective Inspector, or are we here to share text messages and suppositions, which frankly, amount to not very much at all?”
DI Green ignores his question. “For the benefit of the recording, I am now showing Fiona Matherson and her representative photographs, along with email correspondence between Robert Matherson and James Turner, which have been forwarded by Robert Matherson to Fiona Matherson. They are dated May 8th.”
One-by-one she produces the photographs Rob forwarded to me last month, which he had sent to exemplify the lifestyle one of his ‘associates’ was enjoying, because of the investment decisions he had supposedly made. A red Porsche, a house that makes ours look like a shed, and a foreign villa. Topped off by a smiling, balding man with an extremely glamourous woman on his arm.
“Like I’ve told you before, Rob promised me the investment deals would be winners.”
“It’s no wonder that you wanted to contribute as much as possible. No matter what you had to borrow, legitimately or otherwise. That would explain the transfer for three hundred and seventy-five thousand pounds made on 12th May.”
“Yes, I admit Rob made them sound like good investments, but I did not know he invested that much. I thought it was just my thirty grand, along with any money Rob had scraped together. I left it up to him. He worked as a financial director, after all.”
“Did you not think to do any research into these “get rich quick schemes” yourself? There’s no way I would hand that sort of money over without looking more closely first.”
Alan jumps in again. “I cannot see how your hypothetical musings could have anything to do with my client’s decisions.”
I answer anyway. “Rob was at university with this man. They went back a long way, so Rob said. He’ll have had confidence in what he told him. As I did. So yes, if being naïve is a crime, then I’m guilty of that. But nothing else.”
DI Green runs her finger down another sheet of what looks like messages. “Judging from the attempts that Rob made to contact James Turner in the week leading up to his death, I’d say he was beside himself with anxiety, as anyone would be, worrying where all this money might have ended up. Not to mention angry at being ignored.”
“I didn’t know about any of it.”
“You must have been angry and anxious too. Especially with your husband. That he could have transferred such a huge sum, without personally overseeing its administration. Perhaps he had other things on his mind?”
“What are you saying?”
“Bryony Rose, losing his job, potential fraud charges from his employer.” She pauses. “Have you been in contact with James Turner?”
“Yes, I tried a few days ago. I just want our money back. But Turner denies all knowledge of ever having received it, or even having contact with Rob recently. I can’t believe you haven’t approached him yourselves yet.”
“We’re not at liberty to discuss that with you.”
Who does PC Robinson think he is? We’re not at liberty…
“Then we move onto the morning of Rob’s death,” DI Green places another sheet on top of the previous two. “Again, a cross marks the message of interest.”
8.6.21 You carry out your threat and I’ll make sure you regret it.
“One hour before his death. What was that about Fiona?”
“It’s not what you think. My mother was having an affair. Rob was threatening to tell my dad.”
“So enlighten me. How did you plan to ensure he regretted it?”
“Not by running him over! I don’t know. How do women show they’re mad at their husbands? I’d have ignored him, had a row with him, left him, I don’t know.”
She writes something. “We’ll obviously be checking that story out.”
She’s a cow. It’s the way she says the word story.
She puts her pen down slowly. “I have to say Fiona, that you are our number one suspect here. Even more so after the violent conduct you displayed the other night towards Bryony Rose. Therefore, if you’ve anything you would like to tell us, you’d be saving everyone a lot of trouble by just coming out with it now.”
“I have got nothing to tell you.”
“The investigation has got a way to go yet,” PC Robinson says. “By helping us understand things more quickly and easily, the court would show more leniency when sentencing. And we will get to the bottom of things. With or without your cooperation.”
“Whoa.” All eyes turn to Alan. The word is out of place in a police interview room. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourselves? You’re talking sentencing? You’ve not even charged my client yet.”
“I think we’ve got everything we need - for now. Don’t venture too far away Fiona.” She gathers up her papers as she speaks. “As this inquiry deepens and we receive full CCTV from everywhere we have requested it, we will definitely require you to answer some more questions.” She tucks the papers into her file. “We’re expecting the results back today from the tyre that was removed from your vehicle.”
“It wasn’t my vehicle!” God, they won’t leave this alone. “Anyway, what about James Turner? When are you going to question him? And Denise Matherson. She didn’t have an alibi for last Monday either. Plus, I’ve told you now about the damage to her car.”
“We are talking to them. Right, I am ending this interview at 12:30 pm. We’ll be in touch Fiona. In the meantime, we’ve finished with your phone if you’d like to sign for it on your way out.”
“Can I have a few minutes with my client, please?” Alan looks up from the notes he has been making.
“Certainly. We’ll leave you to it.”
As the door clicks behind them, I take a sip from my water bottle and look expectantly at Alan. “Well, at least they haven’t charged me.”
“Their investigation is all over the place.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “I cannot understand why they haven’t impounded your car, and those text messages prove nothing. But it’s true you do appear to be the one with most motive in their eyes, and the person who would have had most cause to have taken revenge on your husband.” He runs his finger down the notes he has been making. “However, they’ve got to prove with no doubt, that it was you that took the car for repair.”
“How can they do that when I was at home?”
“With a lack of CCTV, perhaps the garage staff would have to choose you out of an identification parade.”
“I said that to the police in the first interview. That would sort it once and for all. But let’s say they did pick me out, that still wouldn’t put me on Denton Road at half past ten, would it?”
“True. Let’s wait and see what their car forensics and CCTV investigation throw up. Then, once they’ve spoken to this James Turner chappie, we will see if you’re looking at fraud charges.”
“For what?”
“The monies that have been embezzled from Rob’s former employers. If they have shown you to have accessed your joint account or made any transactions, that could be aligned with you knowing about what was going on.”
“I don’t see how they can pin any of that on me. Just because it went into our joint account. I hate that man, his boss. He’s always looked down his nose at me.”
“Just sit tight Fiona. Over the next couple of days, it sounds as though they will receive further results, and will be asking questions
of James Turner and Denise Matherson. Let’s wait and see.” He slides all the papers into his briefcase and fastens it with a click.
“But if you think of anything, or find something out, get in touch with me straight away. And in the meantime, for goodness sake, stay away from Bryony Rose.”
* * *
All is quiet and still.
Especially Robert Matherson.
Chapter 32
I’ve been told to stay away from Bryony Rose, but not Phillip Bracken. When I drive past Bracken Furniture on my way home, and spot his huge car outside, I pull up. It’s definitely his. PB 1001. Bastard.
Rob often commented about him working on Sundays. Since his wife left him, he’s become a complete workaholic. It’s how he’s got to where he is. I cross the road towards the main entrance. It’s set back from the rest of the businesses, in between a hair salon and a sandwich shop. Rob used to rave about the sandwiches from there and sent his secretary most days. Before he got fired.
I stand in front of the double doors, noticing a security camera bearing down on me. I can’t get into any trouble for simply being here. Nor have they instructed me not to be. I’m not committing any crime by merely talking to the man. But there’s no denying that I’m more infuriated after the police interview and hearing DI Green categorically stating how Phillip Bracken credits me as being the brains behind Rob’s fraud.
I’ve been to this building several times. Never right inside though. I would usually just drop something off at reception. Rob’s cycling shorts or his golf clubs – something like that. I never saw Rob’s upstairs office in all the years he was here. The car park at the front is normally heaving, the road heavy with traffic, and a buzz of conversation emerging from the office floor. Today, all is quiet and still.
“Hello?” I call into the silence, my voice probably bearing traces of surprise at finding the door unlocked. There’s a whiff of furniture polish and a blank space where a photograph should be within the management gallery. The Director of Finance sign still hangs there. My stomach twists. There’s a rectangle of brighter paint where Rob’s photograph once hung.
Hit and Run Page 17