by M A Comley
She shook her head. “Nope, don’t know a thing.”
“Mrs. Daws, look at me.”
The woman’s head slowly rose.
“I think you’re lying.”
“Think what you like. You can’t prove that I’m involved in this,” she challenged, holding his stare.
Hero nodded. “You’re right. We can’t—yet. However, you have my word that I won’t stop digging until I can implicate you in both crimes. Oops, I mean all three crimes.”
“What three crimes? All you’ve mentioned is Stuart’s death and some kind of hold up. What’s this third crime you’re on about?” She seemed genuinely confused.
He said his next sentence slowly, ensuring she got the full impact of his words. “One, your husband’s murder, not death.”
Mrs. Daws’s eyes almost popped out of her head.
“The robbery, which we believe your husband was deeply involved in and…” He paused as she sat forward in her chair. “And the final part of the equation is the murder of Mark Lomax.”
Cathy jumped to her feet and ran at him, her arms flailing, not in the least bit bothered where she struck him. Julie caught one of the woman’s wrists, but before she could grip the other one, Cathy’s fist connected with Julie’s eye.
“You, bitch, I’ll get you for assaulting a police officer.”
Hero helped his partner try to calm the woman down. He withdrew his cuffs and slapped them on Cathy, who was out of control and screaming all sorts of obscenities at them. He read the woman her rights then put her in the back of the car. Julie climbed in the rear of the vehicle beside the demented woman.
That went well! Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.
Sensing what deep shit she was in, Cathy Daws calmed down a few minutes into the journey. Neither Hero nor Julie spoke to the woman until they reached the station.
Julie hauled the woman by the cuffs across the backseat of the car. “Get out.”
Hero locked the car, and with the detectives either side of the suspect, the three of them walked into the station. “I’ll handle this. You go and get cleaned up,” Hero told Julie.
“Are you going to interview her right away or let her stew in the cell for now?” Julie asked over her shoulder as she walked away.
“We’ll have to wait for her solicitor to arrive before we can question her, so she’ll stew for a while first,” Hero replied over the suspect’s head.
“What have we got here then, Inspector?” the desk sergeant asked, his pen poised to fill out the arrest form.
“Cathy Daws…I want her arrested for assaulting a police officer. More serious charges, along the lines of attempted murder or even murder will likely follow after we’ve questioned her.”
“What? I haven’t done anything. They provoked me into attacking them, forced their way into my house, and then started insinuating that I’ve killed people. I haven’t, I swear. Christ. I’m the victim here. My bloody husband was found murdered a few days ago, remember? I want a solicitor. I’m not dealing with this crap alone. I’ve heard what happens in these places when things aren’t going your way. Some of my mates have been beaten up by your lot trying to make them talk. Well, it won’t happen to me. I know my rights.”
“You do indeed, Daws. That’s why I’ve instructed a solicitor to join us. Unless you can afford one of your own, which is highly improbable, considering the amount of pleading poverty we’ve heard today.”
“Just get me a solicitor, preferably not a bent one. I know what you lot get up to, remember?” she added a second time, to emphasise her point.
The desk sergeant motioned for a female police constable to join them. The PC went through the procedure of frisking Cathy and looking for anything she could try to hang herself with, but found nothing. After the custody form was complete and Daws had signed it, the sergeant said, “Take this nice young lady to the cells, will you, Nixon?”
The PC guided Cathy Daws toward the cells. Hero watched her walk away, all her venom and fight subsided, for the moment. “Thanks. Ring me when the solicitor arrives, and I’ll come straight down to question her. Can you also keep an interview room free?”
The desk sergeant laughed. “That shouldn’t be too difficult, sir. It’s reasonably quiet around here today, for a change.”
In the distance, the metal cell door banged. The constable returned and handed Hero his cuffs. In need of a coffee fix, he made his way upstairs. It had been a long day already, and it was only half over.
Hero ended up kicking his heels in his office for the next thirty minutes, until finally, the call he’d been waiting for came through. “DI Nelson.”
“The solicitor has arrived, sir,” the desk sergeant informed him.
“I’ll be down in a jiffy.”
Hero marched into the incident room and approached Julie. “Ouch, that looks nasty. I’m about to question Daws. Do you want to join me, or would you give it a miss? I’m happy either way.”
“You can definitely count me in on this one. I want the bitch to feel guilty for what she’s done to me.” Julie touched the plaster above her discoloured eye.
Hero doubted very much if Daws would ever feel guilty for lashing out at a copper. Julie was kidding herself if she thought that about the woman. Hero suspected that Daws was more likely to take pleasure in seeing the damage she’d done to his partner, and he even predicted a few sniggers at Julie’s expense.
“Right, let’s see what we can get out of her then. Maybe she’ll surprise us and open up more, considering her surroundings.”
“I doubt that, sir.” Julie trotted alongside him, through the corridor and down the stairs.
The assigned solicitor turned out to be a long-standing acquaintance of Hero’s. He and James Boulten had been at the same school together in their teens. They nodded a greeting rather than letting on to the suspect that they were friends, given the way Daws had already bandied about unsubstantiated accusations of bent coppers and unscrupulous solicitors.
Before initiating the interview, Julie said the necessary announcement for the tape: the date, time and the names of the occupants in the room.
“Mrs. Daws, can you tell us why you felt the need to attack my partner, DS Shaw, earlier today?”
Cathy stayed silent, eyes cast down at her clenched hands on the table.
Hero shrugged at the solicitor, hoping he would prompt his client to answer, but he didn’t. He tried again to provoke a response. “Okay, fair enough. That’s one charge you’ll definitely be charged with at the end of this interview.” He turned to his partner and winked. “Maybe the suspect will do the right thing and issue you an apology afterwards, DS Shaw.”
“No, I won’t,” Daws hissed.
Julie shook her head at Hero. “People have been banged up for less, sir.”
“All right, I’m going to cut in here,” Boulten said. “Less of the crap, detectives, and get on with questioning my client. Neither of us want to be in this room longer than necessary, do we?”
“Granted. Perhaps you better instruct your client that it would be in her best interest to answer my questions promptly in that case, Mr. Boulten?”
“When the need arises, I won’t hesitate to do that, Inspector. I assure you. Carry on.”
Hero smiled tightly. “Mrs. Daws, can you tell us what your relationship is with Stan Foster?”
Daws looked at her brief, who nodded for her to respond. “I’ve told you already,” she muttered.
“For the tape, Mrs. Daws, nice and clearly, if you don’t mind?”
“He’s a mate of my husband, or he was. Like I told you back at my house, I don’t really know the man, other than to say hello to in the street.”
“Are you telling me the man has never been in your house before?”
“Briefly, on a couple of occasions.”
“So, am I to gather from that you don’t have a deep friendship with this man?” Hero asked.
“Deep friendship? What the friggin’ hell is
that supposed to mean? The guy turns my stomach.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“It was a simple question. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. I wondered if you knew the man or other members of his family? What else did you think I meant?” Hero asked. Her attempts to put him off the scent aroused his suspicions. Her body language wasn’t a true reflection of what was coming out of her mouth.
“I told you, I barely know him. I’m not sure what you want me to tell you.” Her wicked grin bared uneven yellowing teeth that made Hero’s stomach churn. “I can make up some lies if it’ll help. Is that what you want? Me to pretend I know this man more than I actually do? My mates have always said that you guys like to put words into people’s mouths. Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“Not at all. Just speak the truth, and hopefully, we’ll be able to verify what you say. If, however, you choose to lead us up the wrong route with your answers, then we’ll make sure the Crown Prosecution Service throw the book at you. It’s your choice.”
Cathy’s face hardened into a deep scowl reminiscent of the one she’d given him at her house earlier. “I’ve already told you the truth. How many more times do I have to say it? Yes, he’s been in my house, but I’m always far too busy running around after my husband to sit and chat with his friends. Well, that’s what I used to do, before…”
Boulten raised his hand. “Please refrain from upsetting my client, Inspector. It is my understanding that people going through the grieving process should be handled with compassion and understanding. Am I making myself clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Mr. Boulten, although I’m at a loss to know what I’ve said or done to step out of line on that front.”
“Just a word of warning, Inspector. You’d be wise to carry on questioning my client with caution and a smattering of empathy.”
Hero gave a brief nod. “Very well.” With his gaze fixed on the solicitor, he asked, “Mrs. Daws, can you tell me what you know about an armed robbery that was carried out at Curtiss Nash’s, the jewellers’ in Manchester city centre, a few months ago?”
“Nothing. Again, I told you that earlier at my house, but did you believe me? No, you didn’t. Instead, you manhandled me, shoved me in the back of your car, and dragged me in here for questioning.”
“That was hardly the case, and you know it. We pulled you in because you assaulted DS Shaw. Oh, and me, for that matter, but I’m willing to let that charge slip. I think you have enough possible crimes on your plate for now. Of course, we could always revisit the assault charge in the future if necessary. So, just to clarify, you’re saying that your husband told you absolutely nothing about the robbery?” Hero asked.
“Already answered by my client, Inspector. Move on, if you will? Not that I can see any connection yet. Maybe you care to enlighten me as to why you’ve jumped from asking my client about this Foster man to her husband’s involvement in a robbery?”
“My mistake, Mr. Boulten. I should have made you aware from the start that your client is being questioned about three different crimes that have been highlighted since we started investigating the death of her husband. We’re simply trying to piece everything together. I find it hard to believe that your client knows very little or nothing, as she has already stated, about the events. So, I’m going to repeat my question, if I may? What did your husband tell you about his involvement in the robbery?”
“Absolutely nothing, I’m telling you. Why the heck don’t you believe me?”
“At the moment, Cathy, it’s very hard to believe a word that comes out of your mouth. Let’s see if we can change that, yes?”
Cathy Daws turned to her solicitor. “I don’t know anything. Please make him understand that. Come on, do your job. That’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”
Mr. Boulten shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “Actually, you’re not paying me. Legal aid are. Maybe it would be best to tell the inspector what you know from the outset.”
Cathy snorted and snarled at him, “You’re all tarred with the same brush.” She slumped back in her chair. “You might as well arrest me now and be done with it because nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?”
“If you’re innocent in all three crimes, then fair enough. However, you really need to start being open with us. That’s the idea of this interview, for you to help us with our enquiries whilst eliminating yourself as a suspect. You have to admit that one crime being attributed to one person can be deemed as unfortunate, but three crimes coming to light in one week involving one family is more than a little suspicious.”
“I suppose so. I’m in the dark about this. You have to believe me. You said my husband was murdered and that you suspected I did it. I’m confused about that because I’ve given you a perfectly good alibi for the time of his death. But you seem keen to ignore it.”
“Is that right, Inspector?” Boulten asked, looking up from his notebook and tapping his pen thoughtfully against his square, stubble-free chin.
“Well, yes. But it doesn’t mean to say that Mrs. Daws can’t be implicated in another way,” Hero pointed out.
“Meaning?” both Cathy and Boulten asked in unison.
“Meaning that Mrs. Daws might have paid someone to do the deed for her.”
“Piss off!” Cathy shouted. She nudged her solicitor with her elbow and demanded, “Can he say that? Accuse me like that without proof?”
“No, he can’t.” His brow furrowed, and he said to Hero, “You can’t fling accusations like that around the room, Inspector, without at least some foundation of the truth being attached.”
“It wasn’t an accusation, Mr. Boulten. I was merely laying all the facts on the table. Three crimes in one week, and all the clues are leading back to your client’s door. It’s hard to argue against the facts. I’m sure you’ll agree on that count, yes?”
Grudgingly, the solicitor had to agree. “I suppose so, when you put it like that. But if my client states over and over again that she knows nothing about either of the crimes, where does that leave us, Inspector?” Boulten glanced at his wristwatch.
“Sorry, are we keeping you, Mr. Boulten?” Hero tried hard to keep the amusement from tinting in his voice when he realised that it must be fast approaching the brief’s lunchtime.
“Well, I do have a luncheon appointment that I should keep. If you can wrap this up early, I’d appreciate…”
Hero shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. We’re here for the duration, I’m afraid. I can get the sergeant to nip out for sandwiches, but we have no intention of letting your client go before we’ve thoroughly questioned her and received satisfactory answers to my questions. Do you need to make a call, Mr. Boulten?”
The solicitor stood up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Mr. Boulten is leaving the room,” Julie said then turned off the tape.
Hero seized the opportunity to talk to Daws during her solicitor’s absence. “Cathy, come on. The sooner you open up, the quicker we can all get out of here. Are you with me on that?”
Exasperated, Cathy threw her arms out to the side and sighed heavily. “I’m tired, desperate for a fag, and hungry, and for the umpteenth time, I know fuck all about what Stuart was up to. If he did rob the jewellers, I’m bloody livid that I never saw any of the dosh from it, if you must know. But then I’m not surprised. His money has always been his money. Without me working and paying for all the bills, we would have been kicked out of our home years ago. And that’s the truth. This is all news to me. I swear.”
The solicitor came back into the room at that point, and Cathy shut up. “Have I missed something? You know the rules about questioning a client in my absence, Inspector?”
“I didn’t. Cathy and I were just having a chat. There’s no law against that, is there? Get your lunch date cancelled in time, did you?” Hero stretched his mouth into a large grin.
“No and yes, in that order, to answer both your questions. Now, where were we?” Boulten settled into his seat, and
Julie restarted the recorder.
“We were just asking Mrs. Daws what she knew about the burglary her husband, Stuart, was involved in. So you’re telling me that in the last few months, your husband’s spending habits haven’t altered at all?”
“Not that I’ve noticed, apart from the night he was murdered, and we know why that was. He robbed my housekeeping money and pissed it up the wall with Foster,” she stated, crossing her arms.
“Ah yes, and nothing else you can think of over the past few weeks or months? Has he visited the pub more often than usual perhaps?”
“He’d have a job. He goes down the pub every day. Did,” she corrected, not for the first time during the interview.
“Maybe he’s had more visitors coming to the house lately, more than usual?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
After getting nowhere for several hours, Hero moved on to the third and final crime Mr. Daws had links to. Hero thought Cathy was sure to know about it, despite her reluctance to admit it.
“Okay, we’ll leave that for now and move on to the murder of Mark Lomax.” He paused to see what kind of reaction he received from her after the way she’d charged at him back at her house. This time, however, the woman remained in her seat and twiddled her thumbs. “So, what can you tell me about Mark Lomax?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not the impression I got earlier. When I mentioned Lomax’s name back at your house, you ran at me. Why?”
Cathy’s gaze remained on the table, and she slowly shook her head.
“What is it, Mrs. Daws? What aren’t you telling us?”
“I know nothing. I just can’t believe you’re trying to pin this crap on me. Why won’t you believe me?”
“I’m trying to. Honestly, I am. If you open up and tell us what you know, then it could make the difference in so many ways.”
“Such as?” She glanced at her solicitor for guidance. He nodded, indicating that he thought she should speak the truth if she knew anything.