Murder in Hyde Park

by Phillip Strang

  ‘A foul thought, Mr Mason. We’ve had our suspicions about you for some time. It appears that you’ve spent too long around violence and death, no doubt seen your products in action, probably seen people dead as a result.’

  ‘Do you know how many people look after their families in this country as a result of the UK selling weapons overseas?’

  ‘A lot, I’ve no doubt. But we’re talking about your wife, not indulging in the justification of what you do. We also know that your wife knew of the man’s true identity and that she was embezzling hotel funds, sleeping with the hotel manager. He was bribing her for that.’

  ‘Okay, damning, but she’s my wife. A forced confession?’

  ‘Not here. Justice in this country is innocent until proven guilty. And why so much concern about your wife? You’ve not shown it before, and you’ve not been holding back on supplying women to win a contract.’

  ‘It’s a tough business. We produce a quality product, but that doesn’t guarantee sales. You must know that. You’re a smart man.’

  ‘Coming back to your wife. You’ll be free to see her, and her sister’s with her.’

  ‘What do I need to do to get her out of here?’

  ‘Provide us with a murderer. Failing that, she stays where she is.’

  ‘I need a drink,’ Mason said.

  The uniform left the room, having concluded his checks of the case.

  Larry messaged Isaac soon after. Interview room, conduct it by the book, advise Mason of his rights.

  ***

  ‘Smart lad is Constable Bradley,’ Larry said after the preliminaries had been dealt with by Isaac. Tony Mason, on advice from Isaac, had brought Gwen Hislop along as his legal adviser. A touching reunion between Mason and his wife just before the interview.

  Isaac had been updated by Larry in the twenty minutes since the text message from Larry and before the four people convened in the interview room. Larry sat with his arms crossed, a look of satisfaction on his face. Tony Mason looked bewildered, unsure what to say. A sinking feeling, Isaac thought, as his lawyer had been briefed as to what was to happen, that new evidence had been found.

  Isaac looked over at Tony Mason. ‘We are willing to release your wife, Christine. We do not believe that she is guilty of murder. There are other crimes that she has committed, but it is not our intention to pursue those.’

  ‘I’ve been told by Gwen that much. What else do you have? What are you basing her innocence on?’

  ‘Your suitcase.’

  ‘You checked it, found nothing.’

  ‘No weapons, that’s for sure. You were right about the brochures, not that we understood much of what they were promoting.’

  Bradley, a tall, fresh-faced young man of twenty-five, entered the interview room. He carried the suitcase with him, duly tagged as evidence. He placed it on another table to one side of the room.

  ‘What’s the point of all this?’ Mason said.

  ‘Fastidious man, are you?’ Larry said. Isaac felt that he was enjoying the moment too much, not that he could blame him.

  ‘I like everything in its place,’ Mason said. Gwen Hislop sat apprehensively to his side.

  ‘Is this your suitcase, Mr Mason?’ Isaac asked. A nylon strap had been put around it after the initial examination.

  ‘You know it is. Chief Inspector, where is this heading? You’ve had one of your officers go through it.’

  ‘Get to the point,’ Gwen Hislop said. ‘I want Christine out of the cells.’

  ‘And Tony in?’

  ‘That’s not what I said.’

  Mason looked over at Constable Bradley but said nothing. Isaac could see that the man was sweating, although the temperature in the interview room was moderate.

  ‘Mr Mason,’ Isaac said, ‘as Inspector Hill asked before, are you a fastidious man, a man who likes to keep a record of who he’s meeting, whose palm he’s greasing, the deals he’s making, and so on?’

  ‘I am, but what’s that got to do with my sitting here?’

  ‘You’ve told us that there’s incriminating evidence,’ Gwen Hislop said.

  ‘Constable, open the case,’ Larry said.

  Bradley followed instructions and withdrew a small notebook, the type that could be bought in any newsagents.

  ‘Is this yours?’ Isaac asked as it was placed on the table between the two police officers and the interviewee and his lawyer.

  ‘What use is this to you?’ Mason said. Isaac noticed he was becoming more agitated.

  ‘Please answer the question.’

  ‘It’s mine. I still prefer to write key details down, notes of meetings that I’ve had, people I’ve met. Nothing wrong in that.’

  ‘As you say, nothing wrong. But that’s not what we’re talking about, is it?’

  ‘Get to the point,’ Gwen Hislop said.

  ‘Don’t worry. Your sister’s sitting upstairs with Sergeant Gladstone, no doubt enjoying a cup of tea.’

  ‘Mr Mason,’ Larry said, looking straight into the eyes of the man opposite, ‘we held your wife due to circumstantial evidence. She had been the closest to Colin Young/Barry Montgomery, and she had consistently lied to us. She told us that she had not been in Hyde Park, and then that was found to be false. She told us that she did not know where the murdered man lived, but she did, even knew his true name, though she never found out that the woman she had seen him with was his sister. She has lied and cheated through this entire investigation, while you, Mr Mason, have played the indignant husband, upset about your wife’s affairs, dismissive of our charges against her. Did you think of her and what she was going through?’

  ‘We’re lost over on this side of the table,’ Gwen Hislop said. ‘Is this a character assassination? You’ve released my sister so you can focus on her husband?’

  Isaac picked up the notebook and turned to the back page. ‘Is this your handwriting?’ he asked, showing it to Mason.

  ‘It’s my notebook.’

  ‘That wasn’t the question.’

  ‘Very well, it’s my writing.’

  ‘There’s a map here with a date in the top corner.’

  ‘It was a demonstration in one of the countries that I visit.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘That’s confidential.’

  ‘We’ve checked it against a map of London. It’s Hyde Park, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t remember any weapons being fired there, can you?’

  ‘Mr Mason, before we continue, let me ask you a question, although I can’t be sure of an honest answer.’

  ‘This is a farce,’ Gwen Hislop said. ‘If this is the extent of your proof, then I would suggest that you end this interview and allow my clients to go back to their home.’

  Isaac ignored the lawyer, maintaining his focus on Mason. ‘Do you love your wife? Or was the touching scene in the cells put on for the uniform to duly report to us?’

  ‘Admittedly Christine could get up to mischief occasionally, but she’s been a good wife, a good mother.’

  ‘The difference was that this time she would have left you for another. A dalliance, such as she has had from time to time, is one thing, but Christine was in love with a younger man. You couldn’t compete, you knew that. You had contacts who could keep a watch on her, advise you of her indiscretions. You’re living the good life overseas, and you don’t want it jeopardised, but now, there’s something about to derail it.’

  ‘If you have evidence, present it,’ Gwen Hislop said.

  ‘Very well. It is a map of Hyde Park in the notebook, a cross marked where the Peter Pan statue is, an outline of the Serpentine, the lake that vaguely forms the shape of a snake.’

  ‘That’s not what I drew,’ Tony Mason said.

  ‘It is. And the writing is in code, or should I say Arabic. Do you speak the language?’

  ‘A few words, that’s all. I always have a translator with me.’

  ‘But you can write it?’

  ‘Some, but what’s the point here
? If my wife is free, I should take her home.’

  ‘I would agree,’ Isaac said, ‘but there’s more, isn’t there, Mr Mason?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Constable Bradley has an Egyptian wife. He’s been studying her language for a few years, not getting too far by his own admission. He has translated what he can in the notebook, the damning parts anyway.’

  ‘Industrial espionage is rife.’

  ‘I don’t think so. If you are travelling to Arabic countries, then where’s the advantage in using their language? It was your clumsy attempt to hide the fact that you’ve been well aware of what your wife’s been up to.’

  ‘I’m subject to security checks at the highest level. I needed to know if Christine was going to impact on that, or if I could be subjected to blackmail and coercion.’

  ‘You’ve known about your wife and the dead man for some time. It’s all in the notebook. It will be translated by someone qualified for it to be acceptable in a court of law.’

  ‘It’s not all in Arabic.’

  ‘The date and the time at the top of the map are.’

  ‘It was the date that Christine was there looking for the man.’

  ‘You admit to that now?’

  ‘I was not there. I was overseas.’

  ‘And if you were visiting countries which England has sanctions against, yet still does business with, especially weapons, would it be possible to falsify a passport entry? Or did you travel to wherever, then catch a plane back to France, and then another passport, another name, and you re-entered England, committed murder and left?’

  ‘The date and time?’ Gwen Hislop said.

  ‘It’s in Arabic, but Constable Bradley understood what was written,’ Larry said. ‘It’s the date and time of the murder. You, Mr Mason, killed the man because you knew that the relationship was becoming serious, more than you could deal with. It was either concern about the life you were living or concern that your possession, namely your wife, was getting away. The notebook, the small writing, the Arabic, indicates a fastidious person, a person who wants everything compartmentalised and in its box. And one of those boxes was about to be emptied, and you had to act.’

  ‘This is conjecture,’ Gwen Hislop said, yet it was not said with the fervour of someone defending her client against the evidence. Isaac could see that she believed the man’s guilt, and it had been her sister that he had been willing to throw to the wolves.

  ‘It’s murder,’ Isaac said. ‘Mr Mason, you will be formally charged with murder.’

  ‘I had to, you must realise,’ Mason said feebly. He was a broken man, yet neither Isaac nor Larry could feel any sympathy for him. He was a man who would have let his wife be punished for what he had done to keep her.

  Outside the interview room, Isaac phoned Jenny. ‘Give me one day, and then we’re off to the airport.’

  One day wasn’t enough to complete all of the paperwork, Isaac knew that, and he would have stayed if he could, but this time, he’d break the habit of a lifetime. He would leave it to others to complete. He would leave it to his team in Homicide. He knew they would not let him down.

  The End

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