For Richer, For Poorer

by Kerry Wilkinson

  Pavel was going to spend the weekend in the cells underneath Bootle Street Police Station ahead of going before magistrates on Monday. The chances of him getting bail were as close to zero as anyone’s had ever been and, given the fact he refused to say anything other than ‘I do not speak English’, there was little else they could do, other than hand over what they had to the Crown Prosecution Service and let them sort out what they wanted to pin on him. For all the effort they’d gone to in order to find him, the outcome was quite the anti-climax.

  Jessica sat in the interview room, Archie at her side, Teague and his solicitor across the table. Jessica recognised the legal guy – he worked for one of the cheaper practices in the centre, talking a reasonable game but generally not delivering. That’s what happened when a legal firm charged so little that all the scroats could afford them.

  Teague had already offered a string of denials about practically everything before Jessica nudged Archie with her knee. He leant forward, top lip curled. ‘Where’s the money, Martin?’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘Where is it?’

  Small wisps of hair had begun to grow on Teague’s otherwise shaved head and his red face looked more bloated than ever, the loose skin on his cheeks hanging like a basset hound’s. ‘You’ll have to tell me what money before I can tell you where it is.’

  ‘What about the jewellery?’

  ‘What jewellery?’

  Archie slipped a sheet of paper out from a cardboard wallet and reeled off the list of stolen items, adding, ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I don’t know where any of it is.’

  ‘That’s such shite. Shall we get some of the robbery victims in and see if they recognise your voice? How about we rip up the rest of the floorboards in your house? Or we go back to your old mansion and see if it’s being hidden there? I’m sure there’s a big list of places for us to look.’

  ‘I haven’t stolen anything!’ Teague turned to his solicitor. ‘They can’t fit me up for this, can they? I saw that shite on the telly about the Slasher.’

  The solicitor leant across the table. ‘Are you going to put any specific allegations to my client? This is all conjecture and guesswork. You have some vague associations between Mr Teague and people he insists he doesn’t know, then someone from his old school who I gather hasn’t actually implicated him in anything. Then there’s missing money and jewellery that you can’t find. He’s already spent a night in the cells, much to the dismay of his distraught wife. From what I can tell, you don’t actually have anything that implicates him, despite arresting a wide selection of his friends. Could I perhaps suggest that this is more of a fishing expedition than anything serious . . . ?’

  The smug . . . fellow.

  Jessica took the folder from Archie and removed the page with the details of the first robbery, asking Teague where he was when it had happened.

  ‘I can’t remember – it was weeks ago. Almost certainly at home.’

  ‘By yourself?’

  ‘Tania would’ve been there.’

  His story was the same for the second and third robberies – Tania would apparently give him an alibi. For the third one he said he thought there was football on the television. Archie gave her a look to confirm it but that didn’t prove Teague had been at home watching it, simply that he knew it was on.

  As for Tania, how reliable her testimony could be given that they were married was questionable but she was the next person on Jessica’s list to drag in anyway.

  The fruitless interview drew to a close, with Teague and his haughty solicitor disappearing back downstairs to the cells.

  Jessica told Archie she’d catch up with him later and then went to find the newly arrived DCI Topper in his office. He was dressed down in a loose-fitting pair of trousers and a red and blue stripy jumper. He was smiling but it felt slightly forced. ‘How’s the weekend off going?’ he asked.

  ‘Much like the rest of the time off I take.’

  ‘Did you get anything from Teague?’

  ‘Sod all. We’ve been to every house that’s even remotely connected to him overnight and not found anything that even looks like stolen jewellery. There are no lock-ups, no storage units, no anything in his name either. We’ve had his mates in – the street ones he grew up with and the ones we know he’s in contact with. There are a few stories about the types of thing they got up to when he had money – racing cars around his garden, that sort of thing. There are four that fit the profiles of the robbers perfectly in terms of height and weight but it’s not easy to prove anything with the lack of forensics and the fact only one of them spoke. There were only four robbers and, if Teague was one of them, then they can’t all be involved but we figured there was no harm in getting them all in. They’re all local, so any of them could be the main robber from the accent but we can’t charge anyone based solely on that.’

  ‘What are they saying?’

  ‘“No comment” – that’s it. Over and over, all four of them. “What’s your name?” – “No comment”. “How do you know Martin Teague?” – “No comment”. We can’t even start to check alibis because no one’s given us one, they just no-comment.’

  ‘That tells its own story.’

  ‘True – but it’s still not enough for the CPS to get excited about.’

  ‘Also true. What about Martin?’

  ‘He’s talking – but he’s denying everything. He says he doesn’t know Pavel, he didn’t put Rosemary in contact with him, he’s not robbed anywhere, and so on.’

  ‘Rosemary?’

  ‘She’s gone a bit quiet since she got a solicitor. I think it’s dawned on her that her shop is going to be shut down for the money-laundering regardless of what she tells us. Cooperating can only get you so far and I don’t think she wants to testify against Pavel anyway. I suspect it’s all been done cleverly enough to keep her off the hook. She’ll say she didn’t know where Pavel’s money came from and that the cash “donations” every Saturday morning were simply to pay back the loan. She can argue that she didn’t know the repairman she paid to look at the cooker every week was one of his, and so on. She’ll probably just about avoid prison and then have to start again. If she keeps talking, she’s only going to get herself into more trouble.’

  Topper smiled knowingly: ‘That’s what happens when you hire a proper solicitor – they tell you to shut up.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘I’m beginning to see why DCI Cole retired. You have quite the different class of criminal here compared to where I’m from.’ Jessica was about to ask what exactly he was used to but he moved on. ‘What’s your thinking?’

  ‘About Teague?’

  ‘For the robberies.’

  ‘The basics fit: the motive that he wants his money back, or at least some of it, his alibi’s pretty weak regardless of what his wife might say, the descriptions we have of the robbers are just about right.’

  ‘It’s not going to be enough.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You need to find the money or the jewellery.’

  ‘We’re still trying to track down anywhere else he might have connections to. A few of the houses he bought at auction haven’t been resold yet.’

  Topper kept his lips tight, not having to say it because Jessica knew: if she didn’t get her skates on, they were going to have to release Teague – and if he went to the media claiming wrongful arrest, given how well-known to them he was, all hell would break loose.

  ‘What are you going to do next?’ he asked.

  ‘His wife Tania is downstairs. She’s his alibi but we’ve been so busy listening to his friends say “no comment” that we’ve not got to her yet. First, I’m going to check what she was up to on the nights of the robberies.’

  41

  Tania Teague wasn’t exactly looking her best. The heels, tight jeans and tighter jumper were all still in evidence but her dark roots were beginning to peek through her blonde hair that hadn’t been straightened in a little whi
le, instead becoming frizzy and free. With a lack of make-up, she looked quite different to the woman who had click-clacked her way into the living room the first time Jessica had met her.

  Tania was sitting in the interview room, with the same solicitor as her husband had had. He was beginning to seem a little bored by spending an entire Sunday at Longsight Police Station. In fairness to him, it wouldn’t make too many people’s top-ten list of where to spend a weekend.

  Jessica ran through a few general questions about Martin’s behaviour over the previous weeks, receiving rather non-committal replies, before she got down to the actual reason for giving up her Sunday afternoon. She removed the details of the first robbery from the cardboard wallet again and read Tania the date. ‘Where were you on that evening?’

  The woman exchanged a glance with the solicitor. ‘It’s hard to know. Do you remember exactly where you were weeks later?’

  ‘Pretty much – I’m usually either here or home, so it’s not hard.’

  Tania smiled sweetly. ‘Good point. In that case, I was probably at home. I am most evenings.’

  Jessica checked the next two robbery dates with her but Tania said the same was true, adding for the third one: ‘I think he was watching football that evening.’

  ‘Are you confirming for sure that you were with your husband on the night of all three robberies?’

  Tania looked to her solicitor and back again, nodding. ‘I’m not sure where else I’d be.’

  It wasn’t quite definitive but it seemed to be as far as she was going to go. ‘When I was first at your house, Martin was complaining that you were always at the gym.’

  ‘He does exaggerate.’

  ‘I tripped over your gym bag when I was there. It had the name of the gym on the side, so I checked with them earlier. They were able to give me the exact dates and times when you used your ID card to check in.’

  Her face scrunched up: ‘Oh.’

  ‘So I know that you weren’t at home with your husband on any of the occasions he needed an alibi. For the third one, you would have arrived back while he was still out – but this means that any alibi you’ve given him is utterly worthless.’

  Tania turned back to the solicitor but he was writing something on a pad.

  ‘I suppose I could have been mistaken – it’s difficult to remember where you are all the time . . . I still don’t see why you think it’s Martin, though. You’ve been in our house, causing a mess, ripping things up. Are you going to put it all back together again? There’s nothing there.’

  Jessica nodded upwards towards the camera. ‘If I were you, I’d be more worried about the lies you just told while under caution.’

  ‘Hey, I—’

  Tania’s solicitor cut in: ‘Her exact words were that she wasn’t sure where else she’d be if she wasn’t at home. She didn’t lie, she simply didn’t know. Any right-thinking person would agree. You’d already found out where she was, so there was no need to goad her into making a mistake.’

  ‘When I was at your house that time,’ Jessica continued, focusing back on Tania, ‘you said that your husband missed the money. Your exact words were: “It wasn’t me who spent all the money and it’s not me who’s missing it”. Do you remember that?’

  Tania was running her fingers through her hair, trying to pull it straight. ‘Vaguely. It sounds like something I’d say.’

  ‘Why?’

  The solicitor didn’t offer anything, so Tania answered. ‘Because he does miss the money. Life’s very different without it. I’ve just gone home but he’s lost everything. You can’t think the rollercoaster, the cinema, or any of the cars were anything to do with me.’

  ‘Is Pavel Adamek one of your husband’s friends?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of him.’ Jessica took out a photo of Pavel and held it up. Tania peered closely but shook her head: ‘I’ve never seen him either.’

  ‘Be honest – the night of the third robbery, when you got home from the gym, was your husband there?’

  ‘Of course he was.’

  ‘You know any alibi you give him now is useless. You might as well tell the truth.’

  ‘I don’t care what you say – he was there.’

  She would say that, of course, but Jessica had to ask. It counted for little now anyway given her previous ‘mistake’.

  ‘Did you know your husband was breaking into places and robbing the owners?’

  Tania’s solicitor leant forward. ‘Don’t answer that. My client has no knowledge of what you’re talking about, be it anything her husband may or may not have done, or whether she knew about any of it.’

  ‘In which other places could he be hiding the money?’

  ‘She’s not answering that either. Mrs Teague has told you what she knows.’

  And on they went. Now that the solicitor had found his voice, he only allowed Tania to answer one question in every five or six and only then for basic clarifications, nothing serious. Given that she wasn’t under arrest, or even suspicion, there wasn’t much else they could do. In between the interruptions and missed questions, Jessica had done little other than establish that Tania apparently knew nothing about anything in regards to what her husband may or may not have been up to.

  As she ended the interview, Jessica tried one final track, catching Tania’s eye as she was leaving the interview room, away from the camera and recording device. ‘You do realise how serious this all is? It’s not just someone stealing a few quid from people that can afford it – this involves people having guns shoved in their faces, kids being traumatised. This has changed lives.’

  The lawyer clicked a finger in Jessica’s face, making her want to bite it off.

  ‘Tania . . .’ Jessica said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You must know something was up. This was all going on under your nose, you can’t be completely blind to it.’

  The lawyer stood in front of Jessica this time, backing Tania into the corridor: ‘If you want to talk to her, you’re going to have to do so properly. This is utterly inappropriate.’

  ‘Tania . . .’

  The lawyer grabbed his client’s wrist and began to walk away but Tania stopped, freeing herself and staring along the corridor towards Jessica. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. All I know is that before he lost his money, he wanted to buy his childhood house.’

  She spun, batted away her solicitor’s arm and click-clacked her way towards reception.

  42

  Two days later, Jessica walked into reception, just as Pat was biting into a brownie. ‘You mmmfly eckd mmff life,’ he said, mouth full.

  ‘That’s disgusting.’

  Pat swallowed but there were still bits of brown mush in between his teeth. ‘I said you nearly wrecked my life. Thank God I had a bit of freezer space.’

  ‘Yeah, and you nearly got yourself shot by walking into somewhere we were keeping an armed watch over.’

  ‘It was an accident – I mixed up the days!’

  ‘You’ve had all this time since and that’s the best excuse you could come up with?’

  He took another bite and scowled at her, eyes narrow and accusing. Jessica headed past him towards the stairs to DCI Topper’s office. His door was already open but she closed it behind her. As she was sitting, he pointed to the whiteboard behind him which, for the first time since Jessica had returned to work, had a lot more blank space than black handwriting on it. Underneath, the same canvas bag for life rested with a pair of too-short shorts on top.

  ‘Wonderful sight, isn’t it,’ he said. Jessica assumed he meant the board, not the shorts. ‘Do you want the good news or the . . . oh, forget that – we’ll start with the good news. First, how was your day off?’

  It was true: Jessica had actually taken the Monday off.

  ‘Good, Sir. I watched a lot of TV. I hear it was busy here.’

  ‘Quite – as you know, we found the remaining banknotes that hadn’t been given away to charity hidden in the fireplace of
Martin Teague’s childhood home. It was scheduled to be demolished in the next three months, which I don’t think he even knew about. With that and his lack of alibi, the CPS are looking good to go forward.’

  Jessica replied ‘great’ but she didn’t feel it. The day off had given her time away from the case, time to think, and she knew there were things she wasn’t happy about.

  Topper continued unabated, still smiling. ‘That’s not all – we had the results back from Bradford Park this morning. We’ve got positive results from three of Martin’s friends to the banknotes, either fingerprints or skin samples. Whatever they might claim, despite their “no comment”s, we know they handled the stolen money.’

  ‘Oh.’

  That was news to Jessica.

  ‘That’s not all – one of the three works for a private security firm. When we arrested him, we started going through his books and he has a receipt for an old police-issue battering ram that was bought at auction along with a job lot of various policing items. Quite how it ended up for sale, we don’t know but it also gives us an idea of how they got into the house and knew about things like disabling panic buttons, alarms and cameras. This guy’s company actually installs them.’

  Jessica was genuinely surprised. Considering this had all happened on her day off, she wondered if she should stay at home more often.

  ‘Wow – things have moved on a lot.’

  ‘They’re still no-commenting but it can’t be long before one of them turns when they realise how long they’re going to go away for. They’re back downstairs with their solicitors. That third off a sentence for confessing must seem pretty welcoming right now.’

  ‘Did we find all of the money?’

  ‘More or less. It’s a few thousand short but we always suspected a few charities who were donated money might have simply sat on it. Martin Teague’s still denying everything.’

  ‘Are his fingerprints on the money?’

  ‘No . . . but he has no alibi and they’re his friends. Plus it’s his motive, of course. There is a problem, though.’