*
Adele was almost ready to set off for the station. In the few days since Peter had visited her, she hadn’t heard anything from the police and she was looking forward to her new start with John. She threw a few last minute things into her suitcase and zipped it up. Then she took one final look around her home. She and John had spent some happy times here and now they would hopefully continue, except they would be in a different part of the country.
Her mind began to wander; to a time when she wasn’t so happy. To all the things their father had put them through. She thought fondly about Peter; how they’d always stuck up for each other as kids. Her relationship with him had changed as they’d grown older but he’d still been there for her when she needed him. He was the one person she knew she could count on to help her out of a difficult situation.
Her stream of thoughts led onto her father’s death; an involuntary switch in topic, which she couldn’t suppress. The memory was vivid and she shuddered as a mental image surfaced. The brass cat. Innocuous in appearance, yet deadly. Hammering it against his skull, time after time. The sound of its impact against bone. The sight of his skull splintering. And the blood on her hands. So much blood!
The recollection was so strong that she felt the bile rise in her throat. She swallowed down the bitter taste and carried on checking the rooms to make sure she hadn’t left anything vital. Guilt was eating away at her but she was determined to put it behind and carry on with her life. It would be a new start and she would be happy; she knew she would. And maybe the flashbacks would go in time.
Nevertheless, Adele was hyped up. She found herself rushing around; subconsciously trying to get away before the past made a nasty assault on her. When the doorbell rang, she jumped; as though it represented a prophecy come true.
The sight of the police on her doorstep intensified her already heightened senses. Panic swarmed her body and, although they weren’t here to arrest her yet, she was convinced they were. The officers wore plain clothes, but Adele still knew who they were even before they announced it.
There were two of them, both male. One was tall, middle-aged and a bit rough round the edges, as though he had seen a lot during his career and had become hardened to it. The other man was younger, somewhere in his late thirties, average height and build with an air of intelligence.
The older-looking one of the two officers held out his ID. ‘Hello, Miss Robinson. I’m Inspector Right and this is Sergeant Stewart.’ He nodded his head towards the younger man. ‘Do you mind if we come inside?’
Adele pulled the door back with shaking hands, allowing them to enter.
‘Miss Robinson,’ said the inspector, once she had led them through to the lounge. ‘We would like you to come down to the station to answer some questions in connection with your father’s disappearance.’
‘Why, what’s happened?’ she said, trying to disguise the tremor in her voice.
‘We’ll explain down at the station,’ said the inspector.
Although he wasn’t telling her anything yet, she latched onto the word ‘questions’, trying to reassure herself that at least she wasn’t being arrested. She quickly got ready, and within a few minutes she was sitting in the back of a police car.
By the time they arrived at the station, Adele was even more worked up. Her throat felt constricted, her mouth dry and her hands sweaty. The inside of the police station and the formal process of being brought in for questioning were strange to Adele. Although Peter had tried to prepare her for further police questioning, her panicked state meant she wasn’t thinking rationally.
Adele tried her best to remain calm while she waited to be interviewed. Eventually she was led through to an interview room and invited to sit down opposite Inspector Right and Sergeant Stewart. The sound of Sergeant Stewart flicking the switch on a tape recorder, underlined the seriousness of Adele’s situation and she jumped.
The inspector then explained her right to silence, the fact that anything she said could be used against her in court and that if she withheld something which she later mentioned in court, she would be asked why. She nodded her understanding but could feel her heart beat even faster at the implications of those words.
Adele felt the room spin. Her head was hazy but she kept a grip, reminding herself of Peter’s words, Don’t buckle, whatever you do. They can’t prove owt!
‘Miss Robinson,’ began the inspector. ‘We have found your father’s body.’
Adele gulped, then feigned shock. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Where?’
‘Some of our officers fished him out of the River Mersey earlier today. Would you happen to know anything about that?’ he asked.
‘N-no,’ Adele stuttered. ‘Why would I?’
‘You sure about that?’ asked Sergeant Stewart.
‘Yes. I don’t know anything.’
‘You don’t seem too surprised that your father is dead,’ said the sergeant.
‘I am, but I suppose I half expected it because of how long he’s been missing.’
‘You don’t seem very upset either,’ added the inspector.
Adele rushed to defend herself. ‘I am. Course I am,’ she said.
‘From what your mother told my officers when he disappeared, I gather you didn’t get along with your father,’ he then said.
Adele could feel the heat from the overhead light and she felt clammy. Although it was a statement rather than a question, Adele knew he was looking for a response. Despite the heat, her face blanched. ‘I-I, not really,’ she stammered. She didn’t see any point lying as it might backfire. ‘But that doesn’t mean I killed him,’ she rushed to add, feeling her heart throb at her own words.
‘What about the rug and the brass ornament that disappeared from your mother’s home?’ asked Inspector Right before she had a chance to recover from his previous question.
She feigned bewilderment. ‘What about them?’
‘Have you any idea what might have happened to them?’
‘No. Why?’
The inspector didn’t respond to her question. Instead he continued to fire questions at her. ‘And how did you feel when you saw your mother’s injuries?’ he asked.
‘Well… concerned. Obviously.’
‘And a little angry too?’
‘N-no. Why would I be? She fell down the stairs. It could happen to anybody.’
The relentless interview continued in that vein for some time. As Peter had warned her, the police continued to ask the same questions repeatedly but came at her from different angles. Then, suddenly, Inspector Right nodded towards Sergeant Stewart who switched off the tape recorder and the officers got up and left the room.
Adele was now alone. It was a bit of breathing space, but she anticipated that they would be back soon. While they were away she tried to come to terms with the situation. They must have found the cat and the rug if they had found her father so why hadn’t they mentioned it? Perhaps they were waiting for her to trip up. She realised that they hadn’t mentioned any evidence so perhaps they hadn’t got any fingerprints from the brass cat.
When they came back into the room she was a little more relaxed. She expected the same situation over again with the officers asking the same questions repeatedly and her denying any involvement. She was right. They repeated the scenario twice.
The officers left her alone for a third time. She was tiring now and not looking forward to the next round of questions when the officers returned. But she was determined to stay strong.
It was several hours before the door to the interview room opened again. Adele sat up straight and squared her shoulders, ready for whatever they were going to throw at her. But it wasn’t the detectives; it was the custody sergeant.
‘We’re releasing you without charge,’ he said.
Adele was astonished. She couldn’t believe they were letting her go, and she had Peter to thank for helping her get through.
Chapter 50
‘Thank God that’s over,’ Adele said t
o Peter when she arrived at his apartment.
‘Have they charged you?’ he asked.
‘No, but they’ve told me to stay in Manchester for now.’
‘Do you wanna drink?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I think I need one after that.’
Peter poured some brandy into a tumbler and passed it to her.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’
The serious tone of his voice frightened Adele. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘You need to be prepared for more questioning,’ he said.
‘Jesus!’ said Adele. ‘I thought that was it.’
‘It might not be. Why do you think they’ve told you to stay in Manchester? It’s in case they need to question you again.’ He paused then continued. ‘Did they produce any evidence?’
‘No, they just kept interrogating me.’
‘They might have more to go on,’ he said. ‘It can take a while for it to come back from the labs.’
Adele stared at him open-mouthed for several seconds before speaking. ‘Oh my God! I didn’t realise… I don’t know if I can go through that again. It was hell!’
‘You might not have a fuckin’ choice,’ said Peter, taking a sip from his own tumbler. ‘Best thing we can do now is make sure you’re ready if it does happen.’
*
As Peter had predicted, the police called at Adele’s home again only this time she was placed under arrest in connection with her father’s death. On hearing the police officer’s words Adele gasped. Then her adrenalin kicked in, the blood pumping ferociously around her body until she felt lightheaded.
‘I would also like to inform you that we have a warrant to search the premises,’ said Inspector Right,’ and Adele flinched as she noticed his eyes settle on her suitcase.
Despite Peter’s previous advice, Adele was in such a state that it didn’t occur to her until later that she needed a solicitor with her. She spent the journey to the station trying to quash her panicked thoughts and focus on staying relaxed.
Once they arrived at the station, Adele was booked in by the custody sergeant. She was then led to an interview room where she was told to wait. Eventually Inspector Right and Sergeant Stewart arrived. When he had outlined Adele’s rights to her, Inspector Right began by questioning her again about the evening when she visited her parents’ home to collect her mother’s things for hospital.
‘So, take me through the events of that night again,’ he said.
‘There’s nothing much to add. I went in…’
The inspector interrupted her. ‘And that was at around 8.15 to 8.30 p.m.?’ he asked, looking at his notes.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘How did you get in?’ he asked.
‘I-I’ve got a key,’ she replied, a look of curiosity on her face.
‘OK, carry on.’
‘I went upstairs to get my mam’s things.’
The inspector cut in again. ‘So, you went straight upstairs?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Which rooms did you go into?’
Adele pretended to think. ‘My parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, you didn’t go into any of the downstairs rooms?’
‘No.’
‘OK, so what did you do then?’
‘Once I’d got her stuff I let myself out.’
Then Sergeant Stewart spoke. ‘Did you notice anything while you were there?’
‘No.’
‘What about sounds? Any indication that there was anyone else inside the house? Movement from any of the other rooms? The sound of the TV?’
Adele had already thought about the TV. She would deny hearing it because, if she admitted hearing it, the police would want to know why it wasn’t still on when her mother returned the following day. Then she would have to say she entered the living room to switch it off. And that would implicate her.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Then why did your parents’ neighbour notice that the TV was still on when she went to bed at 11 p.m.?’ asked the inspector.
Adele felt a rising panic. They knew. The police knew! But they still didn’t have any proof. So, she would keep denying it like Peter had advised and hope they couldn’t detect the rush of fear that shot through her body.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she said.
When they had questioned Adele for a while, the police left her alone again. She was worried. Something was going on but she didn’t know what.
It seemed like an age before the inspector and sergeant returned and took their seats opposite her. The sergeant was carrying a box, which he put down on the table. From the other side of the table, Adele couldn’t see what was inside it. Then the sergeant began to remove plastic evidence bags from the box.
It was difficult to identify what the first evidence bag contained; it was something small, perhaps a fragment or a hair. But the second bag contained the blouse that she had been wearing when she killed her father. Shit! The relevance hit her. But, before she could react, the sergeant put his hand into the box again. He withdrew another evidence bag.
Inside it was the brass cat. The sight of it made Adele’s breath catch in her throat. A cold chill ran down her spine and she suppressed a shudder. Then she felt an urge to vomit and tears flooded her eyes. ‘I-I think I need to make a phone call,’ she said.
‘Very well,’ said the inspector. ‘But, before you do, I think you need to know that we’re charging you for the unlawful killing of your father.’
*
Peter had been back home for two hours following a lengthy and gruelling session at the police station. He’d rung Adele to find out if she had also been taken in for questioning but the phone line was dead. Of course! Realisation dawned on him; she had been planning to leave so she’d probably still have the phone disconnected.
Next, he rang his mother to find out if she had heard from Adele but she hadn’t. She told him that she had been questioned again too and it took him all his time to calm her down so he could get her off the phone.
He was concerned about Adele. All he could do was wait for her call but when he still hadn’t heard from her a while later, he knew it wasn’t a good sign. If they had kept her in longer than him then perhaps it was because they knew they had something on her.
The hours dragged on, but Peter stayed calm and mentally prepared himself to deal with whatever situation arose. By the time the phone rang he was ready.
‘Peter, they’ve charged me,’ Adele cried down the phone.
‘How come? You’ve not spilt the beans have you?’
‘No, I think it’s because I visited the house that night. And they’ve got evidence. My blouse and that bloody cat!’
As soon as she mentioned the evidence he knew she was up against it. And the fact that she was there on the night of their father’s death didn’t help either. The police had also questioned him about that night but he had made sure he had a stern alibi, and friends to back up his story.
But despite having all the odds stacked against her, he’d still do his best to get his sister out of the shit. ‘I know it sounds easier said than done, but try not to worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a brief round to the station as soon as possible. Don’t answer any more questions till then.’
‘OK, thank you,’ she wept.
Peter continued. ‘The brief will tell you what to do. Wait for him to get there, and don’t let them break you.’
‘OK,’ she replied weakly.
‘Oh, and Adele?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t forget what I told you. Not a word, OK? No matter what happens.’
‘Yes, I know. I told you I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Shhh,’ said Peter, worried that she’d mention something on the phone that might implicate him. ‘Just do as I say and listen to your brief, and everything will be fine. OK?’
He put down the phone and sighed. There was
no doubt Adele was in a state. He just hoped she didn’t break, but something told him she would keep to her word and not say anything about his involvement. She owed him that, at least. After all, he had stuck his neck out in trying to get her out of the shit. There was nothing else he could do now other than provide the best solicitor he could afford, then sit back and hope.
Chapter 51
Peter was entertaining David round at his flat. After the events of the last couple of days, he needed a stiff drink and he didn’t fancy sitting alone getting maudlin. When it came to the law, it was always good to chat to someone who knew the drill.
‘So, how’s it going with your kid?’ asked David.
‘They’ve fuckin’ charged her with manslaughter,’ Peter replied.
‘How come? I thought they’d released her without charge after they took her in for questioning?’
‘Yeah, that was before they found the evidence.’
‘What have they got?’
‘Fingerprints, material and one of her hairs under his nails, and her hair on his clothing. The fuckin’ lot!’
‘Jesus!’ said David. ‘What’s the material?’
‘A blouse she was wearing, apparently. The dozy cow had it packed in her case ready to go to London. I told her to get rid of her clothes. I shouldn’t have fuckin’ left it to her! I should have got rid of them myself. She got rid of the jacket she was wearing ’cos it was full of blood but she kept the blouse. She told me it was one of her favourites; though why she’d want to wear it again after what she’d just done is a fuckin’ mystery. I’m cursing myself that I didn’t make sure she got rid of it.’
‘Fuckin’ hell! I’m glad she wouldn’t go out with me, now. No offence, mate, but your sister sounds like a right fuckin’ psycho,’ said David.
Peter gave him an evil stare before saying, ‘Don’t push your luck, Dave!’
‘OK, just saying,’ David replied. Then he asked, ‘Is she in custody now?’
‘No. They’ve charged her with manslaughter and released her till the trial. She’s lucky they’re going for manslaughter and not murder with the fuckin’ job she did on him. But they’ve taken account of all the circumstances; the fact that it was in self-defence and the shit childhood we both had cos of him.
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