‘So what? I am.’
‘Tell me a bit about them. Do you remember them?’
‘Nothing to tell. All I know is that my old man was shot by the cops.’
‘With good reason, it seems.’
‘That’s your opinion.’
‘You don’t like the police then?’
‘They stop people from being free. Doing what they want.’
‘You prefer anarchy then?’ snorted Stevens.
‘You wouldn’t know what that was, unless you’d lived in New York as a child,’ she sneered.
‘So what was it like?’ Stevens asked.
‘When you have parents who both take drugs, walk around carrying a gun, shooting people and when you ask why, you get a beating. That, is my anarchy.’
Jake glanced at Stevens. ‘So you were brought up in “The Hood”?’
‘Yeah, and?’
‘I think you’re a bit of a rebel.’
Simone remained silent and looked skyward again. Then bit her nails. Jake thought that she looked a little more nervous. Some of the edge was falling away to reveal something else, but he wasn’t quite sure what.
‘Do you own a blue-grey Ford Focus estate?’ Stevens asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know where it is now?’
‘No, it got stolen.’
‘When?’
‘A few days ago.’
‘Have you reported it to us?’
‘Pointless.’
‘I see. Can you confirm that you live at this address in Eastlands, Northampton?’
‘That’s what I told you.’
‘We have in our car pound a Ford Focus estate, blue-grey, with you as the registered keeper.’
‘So you found it.’
‘We did indeed. It was involved in a collision.’
‘Is it damaged much?’
‘Written off, I would say.’ Jake said.
‘It was an old heap, not worth much anyway.’
‘When was the last time you drove it?’
‘Friday, for work.’
‘Didn’t you wonder why it wasn’t on your drive?’
‘As I said, it got nicked.’
‘The car was involved in a collision that injured our missing WPC. She was driving it.’
‘So the cops nicked it. I always knew you were thieving fuckers.’
‘Where did you park your car?’
‘Outside the house.’
‘The one on Eastlands?’
‘Yeah, where else would I park it.’
‘Indeed. OK. Let’s move on. How is your relationship with your mother?’
‘My relationship is perfectly fine, thank you. She brought me up to be a good girl.’ Simone said coyly.
‘Would you do anything for her?’ Jake asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Even if it meant breaking the law?’ Stevens said.
Nicholls hesitated, then said, ‘No comment.’
‘Would that go as far as murder?’
Nicholls exploded. ‘What the fuck are you saying? You’ve got nothing, you’re just fishing.’
Nicholls stood and wandered around the room. Her arms were down by her sides, flexing her hands as if she was preparing to fight with one or both of them.
‘Come and sit down, Simone?’
‘Fuck off!’ she shouted and continued to pace until Jake got up and went over to her, trying to calm her.
When they had all sat again, Stevens asked, ‘Where were you at two a.m. on seventeen this month?’
‘Probably at home, in bed.’
‘Where were you at four a.m. on the twenty-first?’
‘The same. I’m not an early riser.’
‘OK then, where were you eleven a.m. on the twenty-second?’
‘At work, I would assume.’
‘Do you get much time off?’
‘When I want it, yes.’
‘Because your mother is your boss?’
Nicholls nodded.
‘Respond for the recording, please.’
‘Yes!’
‘You see, our difficulty is that on this date and a few more, your identity card was used to enter the controlled pharmacy. Your card, your pin number, how do you explain that?’
Nicholls said nothing.
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly.
‘Why don’t you know?’
‘I just don’t – perhaps my card was stolen!’ she shouted.
‘Like your car?’
‘Yes,’ a beat, ‘perhaps somebody copied it.’
Jake produced an identity card from the folder. He showed it to Nicholls. ‘Is this your card?’
‘You know it is – you took it from me when I got here.’
Pointing to the base of the card at the rear, he said, ‘This number here is the unique identity number for your card.’
‘So?’
Jake removed another sheet from his folder, which contained a list of numbers on a printout.
‘When we executed a warrant, we asked for details of access to the pharmacy. You see there have been a number of fatal road collisions, where a drug has been found in the bodies of those who have died, which we could not account for. Analysis of the drug – by your company and our pathology department – identified that certain chemicals contained isotopic recognition markers that identified its owners as the company you work for. Now, how is it possible that your card was used to gain access to the precursor chemicals to make up the drug, which ended up in several individuals who have died and PC Parker?’
‘How’s that got anything to do with me? I’m just an employee.’
‘But you know who, don’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘We have a number of options here,’ Stevens said. ‘You can tell us what your involvement with all this is, you can say nothing and we’ll draw our own conclusions, or we can charge you with six counts of murder and still draw our own conclusions.’
‘Murder!’ exclaimed Nicholls. ‘What hat did you pull that out of? I’m here because of that cop. Nobody ever mentioned murder.’
‘You see, Simone, we can associate those dead drivers with the same drug as found in PC Parker. You’re a bright girl. You’d come to the same conclusions, wouldn’t you?’
Nicholls didn’t reply.
‘Do you know Ian Morton?’ Jake said.
Simone shook her head. ‘No.’
Jake glanced at Stevens then said, ‘Did I not see you at his workshop with another officer?’
‘I don’t think so – we’ve never met.’
‘Really, so how come his death was caused by the same drug that killed my drivers and nearly killed my policewoman?’
‘No comment.’
Jake tried another tack, ‘What does your mother do at the company?’
‘She’s the chief chemist.’
‘How long has she been doing that?’
‘Since we moved back here.’
‘That would be about two years ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does she have access to the controlled pharmacy?’
‘Of course she does.’
‘Does she have access to your card?’
‘No, why should she?’
‘Could she get a copy of it?’
‘I doubt it. It’s strictly controlled.’
‘What did your mother do before you moved back here?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’
‘Exactly what I say. She only adopted me when she moved to New York.’
‘Did she not tell you about her life elsewhere?’
‘No.’
<
br /> ‘Did you even ask?’
‘Of course.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘She told me it was a period of her life that she would prefer to forget.’
‘What about her childhood – did she talk about that?’
‘Not much, only that she was born here in Northampton and went to doctors’ school in London.’
‘Don’t you think that – unusual? You not knowing her life history?’
‘Look, what’s all this about my mother? She’s hardworking. She has done everything to bring me up as best she can, as a one parent-mother.’
‘How old were you when you were adopted?’
‘Six.’
‘How did she get to know you?’
‘I got taken into the ER, with my parents on the night they died. Family services were going to put me into the system, but she took pity and arranged that I stay with her. I don’t think I want to answer any more of your questions.’
‘Obviously you don’t have to, but it would help us further with our enquiries.’ Stevens said.
‘How did Ian Morton die, Simone?’ Jake asked.
Simone remained silent for a minute or so. Jake could see that she was thinking hard. Perhaps weighing up her options. Will she hang her mother out to dry? he wondered. Is she that calculating?
Nicholls looked down at her hands which she’d placed on the desk in front of her, palms down, and her freshly bitten fingernails. She looked at Jake then Stevens, both of whom sat waiting for Simone to answer the question. Willing her to come clean.
Simone sighed. ‘Will it help me if I tell you?’ she said calmly.
‘It may go in your favour with the CPS,’ Stevens said.
Jake saw now that Nicholls had changed her attitude. Perhaps there was something in this fishing expedition nether he or Stevens expected. ‘That depends on what you want to tell us,’ Jake confirmed.
Nicholls thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know everything, you understand?’
‘But you know some things.’
Nicholls bowed her head. ‘I do, yes.’ A pause, a sigh. ‘I killed him, Ian Morton. It was an error, I didn’t mean to do it.’
53
‘How so?’ Stevens asked.
‘Mum had told me to try out the new formula on him, but I gave him too much. I hoped that it would loosen him up a bit, make him a bit more laid back. He was so tensed up all the time. Particularly after he found those remains in the wood. I just tried to help him relax, that’s all.’
‘Who made the drug?’
‘Mum, she’d been working on it for years?’
‘Why?’
‘She just told me it was revenge for what happened before she went to New York and adopted me. She felt that I didnt need to know. And not to have two people on the same quest as her.’
‘How did he die, Ian Morton? What went so wrong?’
Simone looked at the floor. Tears were forming in her eyes when she looked up. ‘I sent him upstairs to the bedroom. I was going to use something stronger, but I didn’t have anything in the house. So I made him a tea and slipped a vial of the drug into his tea. I realised something was wrong when he seemed to have a fit. He lay down on the bed. The look in his eyes, I will always remember. A combination of fear and anger at what I had done to him.
‘I tried to soothe him and tried to stop the fit, but I couldn’t. Then he just stopped breathing. I tried to revive him but it was no good. He’d gone.’
‘Did you try calling an ambulance?’
‘There was no point. In any case, they’d find out he was drugged.’
‘But the pathologist would find that out during the post mortem in any case.’ Jake said.
Simone said nothing.
‘So what did you do then?’ Stevens asked.
‘I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, so I took him to the wood and laid him out nicely. He would have liked it there. He actually resented Fulborough for clearing it. He was a good man really.’
‘So to recap,’ Stevens said, ‘You used your mother’s drug concoction on Ian Morton which killed him, and your mother has been making drugs that kill people.’
‘That’s about it,’ Simone said soberly.
‘Do you wish to have legal representation for this now? If so, we’ll suspend this interview further until they arrive.’
‘I suppose I ought to.’
‘Very well. We’ll continue this interview shortly, after a search of your address.’
As they left the interview room, Jake got a phone call from Randall.
54
The coolness of the light wind following the overnight storm swirled around Randall like a fan. It was still warm enough for him to take off his jacket and it was slung over his shoulder. He had arranged to see the Fulborough Estate office manager at home, without the distraction of work. He’d collected Jake, who he thought could help by providing some background if needed.
Marjorie lived in an end of terrace cottage on the outskirts of Northampton. The town he saw was creeping ever closer to the village and he wondered how long it would be before it was swallowed up like Weston Favell or Dallington, two places he’d visited before, both of which would have been quite picturesque, had they been left alone. Randall was always amazed at how town planners managed to swallow up little villages, without seemingly any thought about what the residents wanted. He smiled inwardly, thinking about the beginnings of Milton Keynes and how that had become England’s answer to New York, all straight lines and 42nd Street.
The front door of the cottage was painted green with a large brass door knocker. Entering through the small immaculately dressed front garden, he banged on the door. It was immediately opened. Marjorie stood before him in a green apron and gardening gloves.
‘I saw you coming from the back garden,’ she said.
She invited them in and removed her gloves, tossing them on the end of the large pine kitchen table, and inviting them to sit. She scurried around the kitchen, making tea and small talk, while Randall and Jake made the right noises at the right time. Eventually, she sat down at the table opposite Randall and looked directly at him.
‘How’s Barry?’ she asked.
‘Doing well, I think. You’ve not been to see him?’
She shook her head.
‘How do you get on with him?’
‘Very well. He’s different from his father.’
‘A case of having to be, so I understand.’
‘The old Lord’s style was very different. Different times, different everything really, but I got on with him, no problem.’
‘I understand that he had a bit of a way with the ladies?’
‘He had women after him, yes, but he never went to pursue them. It wasn’t lecherous at all.’
‘What way is it not lecherous then?’ Jake asked.
‘I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you,’ she grinned knowingly.
‘What do you know about his wife, for example?’
‘First or second?’
‘First.’
‘She died in child-birth.’
‘Unusual for this day and age, isn’t it?’
‘It was thirty years or so ago.’
‘And what about Barry? Who brought him up?’
‘His second wife. There was a nanny, of course, and us girls in the office.’
‘Did he have much to do with his father?’
Marjorie thought for a moment. ‘He wasn’t a doting father, that’s for sure, but he didn’t go without.’
‘And what about your relationship with the old Lord?’
Marjorie flushed. ‘Whoever said there was a relationship?’
‘Barry seems to think so.’
She became a little uncomfortable and looked down at her mug. ‘I’d rat
her not go into that, if you don’t mind, except to say that he was fine and generous to me over the years. We didn’t step out together, if that’s what you mean. It was more… casual.’
‘But you worked your way up to office manager?’ Jake cut in.
‘Yes, but not on my back, I’ll have you know,’ Marjorie replied.
Randall gave Jake a knowing glance.
‘What do you know about Avril Tyler?’
A pause. ‘Ah, I wondered when you were going to get around to her.’ She stood, went and leaned her back against the kitchen unit, watching Jake and Randall.
‘Well?’ Randall said.
‘She disappeared.’
‘We know, but why?’
‘Nobody knows.’
‘You were close to him.’
‘He didn’t tell me everything.’
‘But you must have heard something, being that close to what was going on around the estate surely?’
‘Rumour has it, that she blackmailed him over getting her pregnant. She said she was raped by him, but I know she was all over him, giving him the come on.’
‘And he obliged?’
Marjorie nodded.
‘Did you say anything to her about this… liaison?’
She glanced out of the window, before answering. ‘Not my place and I just worked in the office then. I haven’t been the office manager all the time. I told you that.’ She took a sip of her tea.
‘What do you know about her disappearance?’
Marjorie came and sat down again. ‘Nothing, really. When she’d had the child, she stopped working here. She used to call in occasionally with her, but then stopped. By that time, about a year or so later, she’d had another child by someone else, a boy.’
‘What happened to her then, do you think?’
‘Nobody seems to know – or if they did know they weren’t telling.’
‘Like who?’ Jake asked.
Marjorie looked at Jake, thinking about what to say. She bit her bottom lip, while trying to work it out.
‘Like who?’ mirrored Randall.
‘I don’t know whether any of this is true, you understand.’
‘We recognise that stories may change over the years, handed down from person to person, but you are the only employee at the estate who has been there for any length of time.’
‘Other than Frank, of course,’ she countered.
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