The police interview room was hot and stuffy, the two Devon and Cornwall officers, Louise and her duty solicitor crammed into the small room, sitting on chairs bolted to the floor. In fact everything in the room was pinned down; even the three-deck cassette recorder was fastened to the table.
There was a video camera in the corner of the room focused on Louise and a thin black strip of plastic stuck mid-way up the walls circled the room. This apparently was an alarm; if it was touched it would send an alert to the custody suite and the interview room would suddenly fill with highly-strung officers, brandishing batons and looking for trouble. At least that was what the officers had told Louise upon entering the room. She’d been tempted to press it just to see what would really happen.
They’d transported her to the police station, handcuffed and humbled. Louise hadn’t even wanted to look out the window as they’d driven her through the streets of London to a local police station, such was her embarrassment.
The Devon and Cornwall officers hadn’t bothered trying to speak to her so she’d spent her time gazing at the car’s carpeted floor, counting the crumbs and bits of debris that were collected there.
Louise had felt so broken and alone during the journey to the police station; she’d wanted to cry but pride had prevented her from giving in to her tears. How had her life become so fucked up? She had been sailing along quite happily, loving her job, her man, her life in general and then she’d been betrayed by that same man, her career was in jeopardy and she was sitting in the back of a police car wearing handcuffs.
The custody sergeant booking her in at the station had been friendly, exercising that cop humour which was dry yet affable in a bid to put her at ease. It hadn’t worked; she’d still felt scared and alone.
He’d asked her if she wanted anyone advised she was at the police and she had considered calling Ben; ultimately she’d decided against it, her shame from the previous evening still causing her cheeks to burn.
And now here she was, sitting in the interview room, looking across the table at the officers, the tape machine whirring quietly in the background. They’d already done the legal part of the interview, her rights, entitlements… blah, blah, blah.
She’d tuned them out; her solicitor had explained all this before the interview began. Now they were telling her why she had been arrested and asking her for her account.
‘Ms Jackson, can you tell us what led up to the events described by Ms Vines? We’ve told you what she’s saying, what the allegation is, anything you want to say to that?’ the cute officer was asking her, the ugly one seemingly taking notes, or doodling; Louise couldn’t tell. The officers had introduced themselves formally to her at the start of the interview but she couldn’t remember the names they had given.
‘Well, I had just driven down to Cornwall, thinking that it would be a nice surprise for Steve… He’d been pretty off with me for saying I couldn’t go. He always said I put my work before him and I guess, with hindsight he was right. The company I work for is -’
‘Which company is that Ms Jackson?’
Louise didn’t appreciate ugly cop’s interruption. ‘Why do you need to know that?’ she asked.
‘So we can follow up, test the veracity of your account,’ he replied, looking at her sternly.
Cute cop didn’t appear too amused with ugly cop’s interruption either, judging from the way he way looking at him, his lips pursed, one eyebrow raised.
‘Well, maybe it would be a good idea to let me finish my account before you ‘test for veracity’. What do you reckon?’ Louise stated, snidely.
Ugly cop looked back down at his notes.
Obviously not used to interviewees with an IQ over 100.
‘Please go on Ms Jackson,’ the good looking officer encouraged, a slight smile pulling at lips in amusement.
His colleague was young in service and too arrogant for his own good; it was entertaining seeing an interviewee putting him in his place.
‘As I was saying,’ she resumed, ‘the company I work for is struggling and I needed to attend an event with my boss. We were hopeful it would drum up more business and it was because of this event that I couldn’t go away with Steve. We had a big row, but we did actually make up before he went away.’
The memory of their make-up sex and the mysterious woman’s face at the window came back to her in a flash, the images startlingly clear and bright. She stopped talking briefly and shivered. She looked back at the cute officer, hoping he hadn’t noticed her stalling. She was definitely not revealing any of that to the police. He didn’t appear to have noticed, probably assuming she was just taking her time to recollect events as they had happened.
‘As soon as I got down there I kind of guessed something was wrong. All the curtains were drawn, the door to the cottage was open so I went in and I noticed two wine glasses in the kitchen. This made me immediately suspicious; I just knew he had another woman there and - ‘
‘Has he cheated on you before?’ again it was ugly cop interrupting her flow.
How fucking rude!
‘How is that any of your business, or even relevant, and where do you get off interrupting all the fucking time?’ Louise could feel herself getting angry.
‘Hey, no need to swear at me. You’ve obviously got a temper…’ he almost whispered the last few words.
‘Are you intentionally trying to aggravate me? I’m here, being totally honest with you and you’re just trying to make me feel worse than I already do, intentionally trying to rile me! I’m trying to tell you what happened, perhaps even manage to elicit a single iota of empathy from you, and all you do is interrupt me, patronise me and treat me like I’ve committed the worst crime of the century!’
Louise’s solicitor gently touched her arm. ‘He is allowed to ask these questions Louise,’ he said gently, ‘although officer, I think it would be respectful of you to at least allow my client to answer one question at a time.’ This time he injected authority into his voice.
Cute copper intervened: ‘Ms Jackson, I’m sorry my colleague’s questions are upsetting you and that you feel you are not having sufficient time to respond. There is no time limit on this interview, so please take all the time you need.’
She cocked her head slightly, her face suddenly taking on a harder, darker expression, her eyes glinting
‘Are you in a committed relationship?’ she asked.
‘Ms Jackson, I am asking the questions here,’ cute copper replied, his eyebrows raised for emphasis.
‘Look, I know you’re in charge, you’re the boss and I’m the lowly criminal, but please, do me this one courtesy and talk to me like a human being. Are you in a committed relationship?’
Louise’s designated solicitor looked at her beseechingly, wondering what on earth his client was going to say next.
Cute copper sat back in his chair, a slight smile again twitching at the corners of his mouth. He put his pen on the desk, seemingly deliberating if he was going to respond.
‘Yes. I am.’
Louise smiled back at him: ‘And how would you feel if you walked in to find a man lying in your girlfriend or wife’s bed? Not only is he lying there but he’s taunting you, telling you you’re not good enough for the woman you love? Telling you that he is better than you and can please your woman more than you can?’
‘Louise…’ the solicitor began, turning in his chair to look at her straight on.
‘No, I’m curious,’ Louise turned away from him, ‘to hear what the officer has to say,’ she finished.
He looked at her and Louise noted the compassion in his face. This man didn’t want to be here, probably had better things to do; he was just doing his job and he didn’t agree with what his job was requiring him to do at that precise moment. This glimmer of humanity warmed Louise.
‘I would beat him to a pulp,’ the officer replied dead pan, ‘and once I’d finished with him I would throw her out of the house faster than you could say ‘call the police’. Tha
t is in an ideal world of course. But Ms Jackson, we don’t live in an ideal world, do we?’ he leaned forward.
She also leaned forward: ‘No, we don’t.’
‘So, you can’t go around punching people, even if you feel you have just cause, can you?’
‘No, and I really wish I hadn’t hit her, I should have hit him instead. Takes two to tango, doesn’t it officer?’
Are you flirting with this man, in front of his idiot colleague and your solicitor?
Ugly copper interjected: ‘So in summary, you admit to hitting Ms Vines, are demonstrating remorse and wish you had hit your ex instead. That about right?’
Louise and cute cop were still looking at each other.
‘Ms Jackson? Is that right?’ repeated the second officer.
‘Yes,’ she said without taking her eyes off cute copper, her eyes searching his face.
He returned her gaze: ‘I have no further questions Ms Jackson. This interview is concluded,’ he said abruptly.
He turned off the tape and stood up, leaving his colleague wondering what the hell had just happened.
‘I suspect your solicitor will want to have a chat with you. We’ll be in the custody area when you’re ready,’ he finished before exiting the room, the second officer trailing after him.
What just happened? Who the fuck did I just turn into? Since when do I use my sexuality as a tool?
Louise was genuinely perplexed, she couldn’t register what the solicitor was saying; something about a caution, nothing to worry about, not a conviction… She heard herself answering him but her mind was elsewhere.
The room was spinning, she couldn’t focus on anything; the solicitor’s words were coming to her as if through a thick wall and slowed down like an audio tape in a dying cassette player. Suddenly she fell forward, her head and shoulders collapsing onto the desk in front of her as blackness engulfed her. Then there was nothing… nothing but peace.
************************************************
‘Post for you Ben,’ Vanessa swung into Ben's office, one hand on the door frame, the other holding a wad of white and brown envelopes.
Vanessa had been in charge of the post for as long as Biztalk had been in operation. She was doing her morning rounds, delivering and collecting the various correspondence that needed to be both sent out and distributed to the various departments within the building. She smiled as she placed Matt's post on the desk, her neat dyed-red bob bouncing around her head as she flounced into the room.
She was known as the 'Little ray of sunshine' for her small stature, upbeat disposition and ever-present smile. At 50 years of age, and with a curvy, slightly rotund frame, Vanessa was seen as something of a mother figure by the younger members of staff. She always made time to give advice, engage in chit chat and listen to people's worries.
Ben looked up from his computer. ‘Morning Vanessa. Chirpy as ever I see.’ ‘Indeed, which is not what can be said for you by the looks of you,’ her voice was gentle and deep, her concern genuine.
Ben's eyes were red rimmed and puffy, the dark circles beneath them betraying his tiredness. Grey stubble peppered his chin and cheeks and his hair was dishevelled. He did not look good.
‘Hmmmm…’ he grunted, returning to his work, clearly not in the mood to talk.
‘You ok, Ben?’
Vanessa slunk into the chair opposite him on the other side of his desk and looked at him, trying to make eye contact. Ben didn't look up and continued tap, tap, tapping on his computer keyboard.
‘Let's just say,’ he replied eventually between taps, realising that Vanessa was in no hurry to leave his office, ‘that I have been better.’
He stopped typing and reached for the post Vanessa had placed on his desk.
‘You want to talk about it?’
‘Not particularly, no. In fact Vanessa, I don't mean to be rude, but I could really do with being alone right now and cracking on with what I've got to do.’
He began shuffling through the post, prioritising which envelope he would open first.
‘No problem Ben, I'll leave you to it. Do you want me to make you a nice cup of tea?’ she asked, standing up and heading towards the door. Vanessa firmly believed that a good cup of tea could solve even the most problematic situation.
‘Vanessa, you are an angel, but no thank you.’
‘You know where I am if you change your mind,’ she left the room, a vague scent of perfume wafting after her.
Ben looked at the envelopes, they were all printed except for one which had been hand-written in capital letters. He picked it up and opened it with an old-fashioned silver letter opener, an expensive gift from Louise last Christmas.
As he opened the envelope two grainy photos fell out face down onto the desk. Ben looked at them quizzically and turned them over.
The first image showed Ben kissing and hugging Louise in greeting the night before. They were standing on his door step, her arms wrapped around him, holding the bags of shopping she had brought with her.
‘What the…?’
Ben turned over the second photograph, his breath catching in his throat. The image had obviously been taken by a long-range lens as it lacked some clarity but it was obvious that the people in the image were Ben and Louise.
The picture must have been taken through his hallway window and it showed him carrying Louise up the stairs, her head resting against his chest, her legs dangling over his right arm. Perplexed Ben reached into the envelope and withdrew a letter from within. The letter, unlike the envelope, was typed.
As he read, Ben's mouth dropped open in disbelief. He could feel rage and indignation swirling through him in eddies of pique. He looked down at the signature of the sender and let out a snort of rage.
It was signed ‘DC’. There was only one person that Ben knew with those initials, only one person who would harbour enough hate to attempt to blackmail him. It could only be Derek Cooper.
************************************************
Louise was sat on the long bench at the back of the custody wall. She had just been seen by the police force medical examiner after her blackout in the interview room. Cute cop was now sat next to her with a Styrofoam cup of water.
‘Here, drink this.’
He handed Louise the water and she drank it gratefully. Her throat felt parched and she still slightly felt light-headed and woozy.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
The cute copper leant back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him.
‘Well, I've never had that happen before. Never had a prisoner pass out in interview.’
‘A prisoner? Jeeze… And there I was thinking it was all about being innocent until proven guilty,’ Louise downed the last of her water and leant forward, her elbows on her knees.
‘Well you did admit punching Miss Vines,’ the officer leant in and spoke softly, ‘Not that I blame you.’
He smiled at her and Louise was grateful for the suggestion of allegiance, even if he didn't really mean it.
‘Unfortunately, that is just what we call people in our custody - prisoners. Nothing personal.’
Louise nodded. She wasn't really interested anymore. She wasn't in the mood to flirt , to play games, to answer back. She just wanted to get out of the custody suite, go home and have a nice, long, soak in a hot, bubbly bath.
The medical examiner had told her she'd had a faint, probably brought on from the stress of the last few days and the current police investigation. She hadn’t argued, what did she know? Stress - the silent killer.
She couldn't help but wonder if the blackout was in some way connected to the hallucinations she'd been having. After all, this wasn’t the first one she’d had. How else could she explain having absolutely no memory of her return trip from Cornwall?
‘I'm sorry about my colleague's behaviour. He's new and overzealous. He hasn't yet learnt how to speak to people amicably, whilst maintaining a degree of authority,’ cute cop continued.
‘What, like you?’
Cute cop ignored the question and stood up. He walked over to the custody desk and began a conversation with the smart looking custody sergeant.
Louise hung her head and closed her eyes. Her solicitor had already told her what would happen next. She'd been advised that if she admitted punching Melissa she would be offered a caution, given that it was her first offence and it wasn't particularly serious in the scheme of things. A caution suited Louise as it wasn't a conviction and was not something that would automatically have to be declared if she needed to take a new job, something that was beginning to look more and more likely, given the potential imminent demise of Biztalk and her freakish spell of bad luck.
‘Miss Jackson, could you come over here please?’ the custody sergeant beckoned to her.
Slowly she stood up, her legs felt like jelly and she almost swooned. She walked up to the custody desk and tried desperately to listen to what the custody sergeant was saying, but her brain was simply not taking it in. She was proffered a piece of paper and asked to sign it, which she did unquestioningly. Apparently, that was it. The case was complete, she was free to leave and her property was returned to her.
She walked slowly out of the custody suite, the big custody door clanging shut behind her. The fresh air felt fabulous against her face and she inhaled deeply.
She switched on her mobile phone and felt it vibrate gently in her hand as it alerted to her to a missed call and a new voice mail message. Louise glanced down and noted the caller ID. It was Ben. Although she knew she should at least listen to the voicemail and find out what Ben wanted, she just couldn't face it at that moment. She simply wanted solitude. She wanted to go home and recompose. Louise glanced up the road and noted the familiar red and blue circle of a London Underground roundel indicating a tube station in the distance.
She returned her mobile phone to her pocket, pulled up her collar and was just about to head off when she heard someone calling her name. She turned and saw an attractive young female with long blonde hair, a tight figure, wearing a dark grey suit, waving at her. The woman walked briskly towards her.
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