by Evie Evans
“Aah.”
That morning, I made Tina’s old ornaments ‘possible antiques’, her plastic jewellery ‘vintage collectables’, and the other odd bits ‘period pieces’. The letter I constructed informed Susan Robinson that due to the prospective value of the items, we recommended she collect them in person instead of trusting them to the postal service. It sounded pretty damn convincing to me.
Three days after posting it, Addi received a phone call from Susan Robinson asking how and when the possessions could be collected.
The bait had worked.
27 The Dead Can’t Testify
Once we finished celebrating, the enormity of the task in hand struck. We still had to get her to confess and I wasn’t even certain that she was guilty. There was no evidence against her, nothing that she could be arrested for, nothing even to try and force a confession. How could we do it? And we only had 24 hours to come up with something, she was arriving the next day. No pressure.
I called an emergency Columbo meeting at my house that evening so Aunt June could get in on it. Addi tried to protest but I pointed out we needed all the help we could get now we’d officially hit panic stations.
“Tell me where you are with the case and what you know about Susan,” Aunt June suggested when the three of us were seated in the living room.
“Who?” I asked.
“Tina’s sister! Lord help us.”
“Oh yes, Susan. Addis’ been finding out about Tina’s illness before her death. What’s the latest?” I asked him.
“Nothing. She didn’t go to the doctor so there’s no record of it. Her neighbours say she thought she’d had a touch of stomach flu.”
“And it was when her sister was staying?”
“Yes, her family were making their yearly visit. Tina said it was lucky her sister was there at the time, she had someone to look after her.”
“Humpf. If that’s what she was doing.”
“Did any of her neighbours get stomach flu?” Aunt June asked.
“No.”
“I don’t remember it going round.”
“No,” Addi confirmed. “I asked one of the health clinics, they say there was no outbreak in September. It doesn’t mean she didn’t have it though, the odd case is possible.”
“Could a poisoning look like stomach flu?” I asked.
“Possibly,” Addi answered. “Depends what the poison is. We didn’t find anything suspicious in her apartment, but we weren’t exactly looking for poisons.”
“What about Susan Robinson’s alibi?” my aunt asked.
“I checked again,” Addi told her. “Her hairdresser still swears she was there all afternoon getting a perm. Do they really take that long?”
I remembered an embarrassing poodle-like perm in my youth. “Can do. She must have got out somehow, maybe when her hairdresser thought she was under the dryer?”
“Is this getting us anywhere?” Aunt June asked.
“No.” I pulled out Tina’s case file and flipped it open.
“That’s not the file from work?” Addi asked.
“Yes. It’s too big to copy.”
He gulped and seemed to pale slightly. “I think I feel a bit sick.”
“Don’t get hysterical,” I warned him. “Look,” I continued, “it’s possible Tina’s sister wanted to bump her off and tried to poison her first. When that didn’t work, she came back and strangled her. It’s a good theory but there’s no evidence and no witnesses that Susan is the murderer. We don’t even have much of a motive other than, according to you,” I looked at Aunt June, “they didn’t always get on. Basically, we’re just operating on rumour.”
“You’ve got nothing at all?” Aunt June queried.
“Nope.”
“Instead of a strategy session I think you should have called a prayer meeting.”
“Not helping,” I berated her, trying to keep my tone light. “Let’s make some notes about Susan, shall we? The more we know about her, the more likely we’ll be able to get her to crack.” Picking up a pen I sat with it poised over a notepad. “Aunt June?”
“I don’t know that much about her. She moved away six or seven years ago, probably not long after Tina arrived.”
“Interesting,” I told her, scribbling that down.
“She’s a widow as well, a couple of years older than Tina. Two children, her life’s very average if you ask me.”
“Love life?”
“I don’t remember ever seeing her with a man after her husband died.”
“What would cause a woman like that to kill?”
“Money?” Aunt June suggested.
“You checked Susan’s bank accounts, didn’t you?” I asked Addi.
“Yes, she’s not well off but she gets a reasonable widows’ pension from her husband.”
I suddenly had a brainwave. “What about a windfall?” I asked. “An insurance policy or an elderly relative she stands to inherit from? Something that would have made Susan’s share bigger if she didn’t have to split it with her sister.”
Aunt June pulled a face. “Jennifer, the way your mind works sometimes.”
“Nothing we could find,” Addi said. Given the police methods I’d seen so far, this didn’t fill me with confidence.
“Then it must be a bloke.” I looked at the other two for affirmation. “There isn’t anything else that makes sense. It must have been something serious if she came back a second time to finish her off.”
“It may not be her at all, you know,” Aunt June said.
“This rumour is all we have to go on,” I said, ignoring the fact that I’d started it in the first place. I turned to Addi. “When we’re in the interview room I think we should concentrate on discussing her and Tina’s men friends.”
“We?” Addi queried.
“I have to be there. I need to hear her answers to be able to judge if she’s guilty or not.”
“I don’t know how the chief’s going to feel about that.”
“She’s an expat, I’m an expat liaison. What’s the problem? Right, when we’re interrogating her, you be the good cop and I’ll be the bad cop.”
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Addi grumbled.
“Do you want me to put the Columbo video on?” I asked. “He does a good interrogation in this one. Might give you some ideas?”
It’s safe to say the ‘Get Susan’ scheme didn’t exactly start off according to plan the next day.
Addi and I had agreed Susan Robinson should wait in my office when she arrived before being taken to one of the interview rooms to ‘finalise a few details’. I had positioned a chair carefully to give me maximum observation opportunities, the idea being to make her squirm a little before applying the thumbscrews.
When my phone went around 11am, reception announced that a Susan Robinson and a James Trott were waiting. Who the hell was James Trott? She hadn’t brought a lawyer, had she? I ran to tell Addi.
“This is all going wrong already,” he said.
“I know. Makes her look more guilty though, if she’s brought a lawyer.”
“You go get them. Take them to your office like we planned, I’ll be along in a minute to find out what’s going on,” he said.
I walked to reception with a bad feeling we weren’t going to get our confession.
“Mrs Robinson, thank you for coming” I welcomed her. “And, oh−”
I felt a little flush come to my cheeks as I was faced with her rather gorgeous son again. My hand automatically started smoothing down my hair before I could stop it. “I didn’t realise you were here Mr Robinson.”
“Trott,” he said, rising out of his seat slightly. “James Trott.”
I half-turned to Mrs Robinson. “I thought you were Susan’s son?”
“James is my son-in-law,” Mrs Robinson told me. “He and my daughter have been visiting for Christmas.”
“Oh. I see. Well, let me show you the way.” Flustered, I took them back to my office and rushed to p
rovide another chair. Once they were settled, I left on the pretext of getting them drinks.
“It’s alright,” I told Addi, “he’s not a lawyer. He’s her son-in-law.”
“Right, well, we’ll still need to split them up, they can’t both be in the interview room. She’ll never confess with him there.”
“I know.”
“You take him to get the stuff, I’ll take her into the room to sign the forms and start the questioning.”
“I won’t be there for the interrogation then,” I protested.
“It can’t be helped,” he told me, not looking at all upset.
I should have felt glad I would get James to myself but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed I wouldn’t get the glory of cracking his mother-in-law. It was my instincts that had gotten us this far. I stropped off to get their drinks knowing how unlikely it was that Addi would be able to wring a confession out of her.
Returning to my office, I plonked Susan Robinson’s drink unceremoniously on the nearby desk. Mr Right’s I handed over personally with a smile and was pleased to see it reciprocated. Before I could embarrass myself any further, Addi arrived to collect Susan Robinson who, instead of looking agitated and stressed as we’d hoped, seemed perfectly calm and composed. The plan wasn’t working.
“Can you take Mr, er...” Addi started.
“Trott,” I filled in.
“Yes, Mr Trott to the evidence room?”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to help you ‘liaise’?” I queried. “You know how tricky the English language can be.”
“No thank you, Jennifer. If you could just help Mr Trott.”
He led Susan Robinson away without even a backward glance.
“Come on,” I told James, “let’s get your stuff.”
“Worth a bit, is it?” he asked as I led him out.
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Good, that’ll come in handy.”
“Not that warm today, is it?” I said, noticing James was rubbing his hands together.
“Never is this time of year. Don’t worry, it’ll pick up in a few months. Been here long?”
“Getting on for four months,” I said, not really paying much attention. It was impossible to imagine Addi would be able to get Susan Robinson to confess on his own. This whole day was going to be for nothing, I could tell, and after all my hard work.
“Cyprus is lovely in spring, especially this area. Better than where Susan lives.”
“Down here,” I directed James, turning a corner and heading along another corridor.
“You’re lucky,” he went on, “I’d love to live over here but we haven’t got the money. I tried to get a business loan to open a bar when we were here a few months ago, but they wouldn’t give it me. Bloody banks.”
“Hmm,” I sympathised, my mind still on what was happening in the interrogation room.
We’d reached the door to the evidence room. Breaking all protocols, Addi had given me a key which he’d signed out himself. I couldn’t get it to open.
“Here, let me,” James offered. He opened it easily as if the lock were made of butter. I hate it when men do that.
“Thanks. Lucky you’re so strong. I’ll just get your aunt’s belongings,” I said and went inside the room. Addi had left the plastic sack with Tina’s possessions by the door so it didn’t take long to fetch it.
James’ eyes were bright with anticipation when I came back out, giving them an almost unearthly blueness. It really was unfair that he was so good looking. His hands reached out and grabbed the bag from me before I’d even shut the door. Poor sod, wait till he saw what was in there.
“I’ll take you back to the office,” I said and headed off down the corridor again.
He didn’t follow me. Such was his eagerness, he had already undone the tie and was pulling objects out of the sack.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed loudly, dropping objects on the floor. “What’s all this shit?”
His voice seemed to have lost its cultured edge, coming out rough and, I almost gasped, a little bit Essex.
“Valuable, I was told,” he continued before I could say anything. He looked up at me with eyes that no longer struck by their blueness but by their hardness and menace, he looked like he was rapidly descending into the red mist. Mr Right was turning into Mr Hyde.
That’s when it all fell into place.
I looked at his large, muscular hands clutching a string of flimsy plastic beads and could easily picture them tightening something around Tina’s throat. How could we have ever thought the murderer was her sister?
A quick check around me confirmed that there was never a policeman around when you needed one.
“She had objects that were valuable, that’s what I was told, innit?” A small bit of spittle flew out of his mouth as he spoke which, as well as being very unattractive, was more than a little disturbing.
I turned back, careful to maintain my distance from him (which unfortunately wasn’t much). “Potentially valuable, I think they said. Got it wrong again, have they?” I asked, trying to back away down the corridor.
“What do you think?” he screamed and threw the plastic jewellery at me. Ducking, I was suddenly aware how large he was and how narrow this corridor had become.
“I should have known it. I should have known this would turn to shit as well,” he was ranting. “How can she have had nothing? How can someone get to that age and have nothing? Not even their own home?”
“You didn’t know. You didn’t know she didn’t own that apartment. That’s why you did it.”
“I didn’t do nothing,” he told me, advancing now in a threatening way.
I’d backed up as far as possible against the wall. Running would have been a better idea but I couldn’t seem to get my legs working.
“What were you going to do?” I heard myself ask. “Wait until your mother-in-law had inherited, then finish her off as well? Going to have a little accident, was she?”
“James?” a voice queried behind me. Turning round, I saw Addi had arrived in the corridor with Mrs Robinson.
“Don’t listen, Susan, it’s all rubbish,” he shouted.
“No,” I called to her. “He killed your sister and you were going to be next.”
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the floor with James’ weight on me. It wasn’t quite as I might have previously imagined it. His hands grasped my throat before I could react.
Screams echoed out but if they were mine I couldn’t tell because suddenly everything was going grey and fuzzy. I could feel the pressure round my neck tightening and my breaths getting shorter before I blacked out.
When I came round, I thought for a second I was lying in a wooded glade somewhere, I could feel a light breeze scented with floral, woody tones passing over me. As my brain came into focus, I found I was lying in the corridor with Vara flapping a piece of paper over me. It was her perfume I could smell with each waft.
Sitting up made me feel very light headed. “Urgh, what happened?” some strange voice croaked when I opened my mouth.
“That man attacked you. Addi had to pull him off. Don’t try to get up. They’ve gone for the doctor.”
“Can you get me some water?”
“I think you should wait till the doctor’s seen you,” Vara told me, continuing to flap in my face.
Next thing, a big flash went off and a camera appeared by my head. “Don’t move,” one of the crime lab boys ordered, shoving the camera in my face and taking a rapid procession of shots, each one burning the flashlight into my retinas and bringing on a nauseous feeling.
“Bloody hell−”
“Yes, we’ll be able to get a good match from these marks,” he told someone standing behind me. “She’s got quite a good set of bruises round her throat already.” I resented the note of satisfaction in his voice as he said that.
“Could you just bugger o−”
The flash went off again before I could finish.
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Another crime lab operative appeared in the corridor and started examining the area where James had been standing. Moving along the corridor to where I was sitting, he picked up my leg to study the carpet underneath it.
“Do you mind? I’m still sitting here. Can you at least wait until I’ve gone?”
He moved off, disgruntled, whilst I took the piece of paper out of Vara’s flapping hand. “Thank you, but I’ve had enough.”
There was movement in the corridor and Vara stood up. The chief himself had come to check out the crime scene. I began wondering if they were going to start selling tickets next.
“Hope you are okay,” he told me in his heavy accent, both knees cricking as he crouched down to speak to me. “It seems like we have caught our murderer−”
WE? WE?
“−thanks to Detective Constable Markou’s hard work.”
Thanks to WHAT?
I opened my mouth to protest but he motioned me not to speak. “Don’t try to talk. I will pass on your thanks to him. Ah, the doctor is here, it was a very silly thing you did, the man was very dangerous. Here she is doctor.”
He left before I could summon enough strength to punch him. The doctor took one look at my now puce countenance and ordered me transported to hospital right away.
Four hours waiting to be seen in the emergency room did nothing for my blood pressure, and when I was eventually examined by a doctor it had risen so high, I was immediately admitted.
I felt I was ready to be committed.
28 Fool If You Think It’s Over
Waking up the next morning, the first face I saw was Aunt June’s wrinkled sultana-like one sitting next to my hospital bed. I was saddened, and a bit touched, to see her little brow was creased with worry.
“Jennifer! Are you alright?”
“Yes, Aunt June I’m fine,” my voice rasped, revealing my lie.
She helped me to some water. Unfortunately, it did little to ease the soreness of my throat.
“Did you sleep okay?”
I held onto the glass so I could sip every now and then. “After they gave me a sleeping tablet I was out like a light.”