by Jo Jakeman
Chris pushed his plate to one side and placed his hands flat on the table in front of him.
‘Please. Tell me,’ I said. ‘He had an affair with your wife and he has systematically abused me for years. If you’ve got something to say that could help me, well, he hardly deserves your loyalty. So please, tell me what it is.’
He carried on looking at his hands, but he was nodding slowly as if he knew what he had to do but was getting up the courage to do it. He took one more look around the café.
‘You didn’t hear it from me,’ he said. ‘But … it’ll be public information soon enough anyway. From what I hear, Phil’s pretty confident that he’ll be cleared of any wrongdoing. But whether or not … Christ, I’m really not meant to talk about it.’
‘Chris, tell me what’s going on.’ I was desperate to hear what he had to say. I moved my chair as close to the table as possible and fixed my gaze on him. ‘Chris.’
When he spoke, his words came out at a rush like a burst water main.
‘He’s being investigated for Gross Misconduct by the IPCC. The hearing is tomorrow afternoon, and he’s been telling everyone it’s a witch-hunt. Political correctness gone wrong. He’s got a list as long as your arm of people willing to give him a glowing character reference. I don’t think they can make it stick.’
‘What?’
‘He’s been suspended.’
‘Hold up. That’s why he’s not been in work?’
Of course. It made perfect sense. I’d not considered that this could be the reason for his secrets, for his anger. With Phillip’s job came status. It meant as much to him as his reputation. The fact that anyone could question his conduct, when he had given everything he had to the force, would be enough to tip him over the edge.
‘Why’s he being investigated? What’s he done?’ I was eager for news.
‘There was a sexual assault,’ Chris continued. ‘Years back. I mean, seven, eight years ago now. Phil interviewed the suspect and took his word for it that it was consensual. He was a flyer, this fella. Money, flash suit. He was clean-cut, white and entitled. His argument was that he had offers of sex every day and didn’t need to force a woman to sleep with him. The girl says Phil told her in no uncertain terms that no one would believe her version of events – that her sexual history would be brought up in court, and she was no angel. She says she was harassed into dropping the charges. She also says …’
Chris took a deep breath as if he was fighting to get the words out against his better judgement.
‘Phil told her that as she was black, and the accused was white, the case wouldn’t go in her favour.’
I gasped in incredulity that even someone like Phillip would think that was acceptable. My mouth was still agape when Chris started talking again.
‘Look, as much as it pains me to be fair to him, he had a point. Some juries are still biased, but back then it was even worse. Sexual-assault cases are difficult to prove. The women are pulled apart on the stand. Pictures of them posing in skimpy clothes are taken from Facebook and splashed all over the media. This guy, the accused, he had more money than her, and his lawyer would have had a field day. It’s not nice but, unless these cases have a really strong evidential base, we can’t always guarantee it’ll get to court. She’d gone back to his flat voluntarily and she didn’t report it until a week later, when it was difficult to get evidence. There’s a good chance the CPS would have chucked it out, but still, it wasn’t Phil’s call to make. The fella in question went on to sexually assault other women.’
‘Shit!’
‘I don’t know if we’ll ever know how many, but he was sentenced a couple of months back for the sexual assault of two women. That first woman, from years ago, saw it in the paper and recognised the guy. She went straight to her local nick and lodged a complaint. If correct procedure had been followed, those women might have been spared their ordeal. If there’s been these three that we know about, there could be more who are too scared to come forward.’
Chris sighed and looked out of the café window.
I had no words.
I’d always known that Phillip bent the rules to suit himself, but I had never considered other victims of his behaviour. I slumped back in my seat, numb, wondering about the ripples that stemmed from his prejudices and arrogance. I’d always thought his manipulative behaviour to be aimed solely at me, and anyone else who was stupid enough to love him, but I had believed him to be a good detective. Until now I hadn’t considered that Phillip hurt strangers who deserved his protection too.
Chris went on. ‘There was an internal investigation and they agreed to take formal disciplinary proceedings against him. He’s disputed the findings, of course, and has a hearing tomorrow where he can present his arguments and mitigating circumstances. If he fails to sway them, then it’s instant dismissal.’
‘Tomorrow?’ I pictured Phillip sitting in my cellar, chained by his ankle, and wondered whether the court would get to see him defend his honour.
‘Is he … I don’t know how you’d know, but has he showed any remorse for those women?’
Chris snorted unhappily. ‘Not that I’ve seen. I’ve read the report he’s put to the panel. It’s all about him being victimised and being made a scapegoat. He talks a lot about things that were going on in his personal life at that time too. A car accident … I think you were hospitalised. He says it might have clouded his judgement for a while. No mention of the actual victims, though.’
He opened his mouth and then shut it quickly.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘You were going to say something else?’ I leaned forward. He was starting to look irritated. Talking about Phillip, and the things that he had done, was causing Chris to grind his teeth.
‘This is all confidential. No disciplinary action can be taken before the full investigation has run its course. I … I could almost accept that he made a mistake with this one woman, for no one’s perfect, but people are coming out of the woodwork, questioning some of the decisions he’s made in the past. Some are saying that he’s used his position to threaten, or to get favours. There’s some talk that he’s fitted people up for crimes they hadn’t committed.
‘If you were to approach the force with your own grievances, I would expect them to be sympathetic, if you know what I mean. There are a small group of people who would be very happy if they could get as much information as possible before tomorrow’s hearing.’
‘Would it give them enough time? What with taking statements?’
‘They might have to postpone the hearing for a day or so, but just knowing that the allegations had been made could be enough to get the decision in our favour. And if you stressed that you were worried about your safety, they might lock Phillip up until the case has been decided. Of course he has to turn up first, and no one’s heard from him for a couple of days.’
I looked away quickly before Chris could read anything on my face.
‘What would happen if he didn’t turn up?’ I asked as casually as I dared.
‘Dunno. Found guilty of Misconduct and sacked, I guess. I mean, if he’s not there to put up a defence, then there’s no one to argue against the accusations.’
‘But he won’t actually be arrested?’
‘Doubt the CPS will think there’s a case to answer. Not based on what we already have, anyway. If other things come to light … well, who knows?’
It was tempting to keep him locked up until after the hearing. He’d be ruined, but we still wouldn’t be free.
‘What about his colleagues, though? Aren’t they standing by him?’ I asked, conscious of the only time I’d called the police and they had sided with Phillip, not me.
‘No one’s saying much, in case they’re implicated in anything. Phil’s allowed to have a colleague with him for these meetings and hearings, but no one will do it. He’s had to get someone from the union instead, but I don’t know how much of his crap they believe.’
He drained his coffee, licked his fi
nger and picked up stray crumbs from his flapjack.
‘If anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me,’ he said.
‘Of course.’
‘Good. That’s what that journalist said as well,’ he grinned.
I smiled. ‘Chris, what have you done?’
My legs were tingling. I placed my hands on my thighs to see if the reverberation was real. It took me a moment to realise that it was excitement. Thrill. The walls were coming down.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I might have given her copies of the reports and promised her a full transcript of tomorrow’s hearing. She’s already interviewed the three victims – she reported on the attacks originally – and she’s very keen to do a follow-up.’
This was going to be a big story. These women were willing to be named and photographed, to talk of their ordeals. They were braver women than me. They weren’t victims.
Phillip would be identified, probably pictured, and held accountable. He would have nowhere to hide. His golf buddies and casual acquaintances, who had all talked so highly of him in the past, would find out what he was really like. He would be exposed. I should have been pleased. There would be nothing more ruinous for him than loss of his job and status, but it didn’t make me, or my son, any safer.
I still had to present myself to the police station and make a statement. And I would have to explain why he was locked in my cellar in the first place.
‘And you think they might take me seriously, if I was to go to the police?’ I asked with trepidation.
‘I reckon,’ he said. ‘They’d be bloody stupid not to.’
THIRTY-FOUR
8 days before the funeral
‘Let me go,’ Phillip said.
It was an order from someone who was in no position to make demands and, as such, it fell flat.
Ruby and Naomi decided that I should be the one to talk to Phillip. Ruby was so hurt by his betrayal that she couldn’t stand to look at him. She was sorry she’d ever trusted him. Her insistence on seeing the best in him had nearly got us killed.
Naomi didn’t want to see Phillip because she thought she might just throttle him. Whenever we spoke of him, which was often, she would fly into a rage. I left the cellar door open, so that Naomi and Ruby could choose to listen to the conversation between Phillip and me if they wanted, though I wouldn’t be saying anything that we hadn’t already agreed.
Since my conversation with Chris I’d pieced together every bit of information I could about Phillip’s behaviour. Ruby and Naomi were eager to give names and dates that could incriminate him. We’d drawn a timeline and plotted his cycles of abuse, his instances of betrayal. It might not be what the court wanted to hear, but it made us feel better.
He and Ruby used to have interesting pillow talks, and she knew of cases he had ‘helped’ in order to make sure the right person went down for it. He’d been proud of his initiative. And now Ruby was proud of her memory. I felt sure these stories would match some of the complaints against Phillip. Ruby said she didn’t care if she got into trouble for not sharing this information sooner. She said there was a bigger picture to focus on. With so much time having passed and so little evidence, it was unlikely these recollections on their own could bring Phillip down, but taken with everything else, it made for a compelling case.
‘We already tried letting you go,’ I said to him as I took a seat opposite him. ‘You didn’t seem very grateful. Imagine if you’d just left us alone, rather than come back for revenge? You wouldn’t be sitting here with me, and you wouldn’t have a couple of exes sitting upstairs waiting for an excuse to smother you with a pillow. You had a choice. Forgiveness or revenge. You chose the wrong path, and now here we are at the same crossroads. Forgiveness or revenge. What shall I choose, I wonder?’
‘If you don’t let me go right now, I will make you suffer!’ he shouted. The last word of his sentence seemed to ring around the corners and in my ears. Suffer, suffer, suffer.
He pulled at his cuffs, but the radiator stayed firm.
‘So,’ I said, ignoring his outburst. ‘I know that you’re being investigated for Gross Misconduct.’
He blinked his eyes slowly. He was trying to keep his features neutral, but I could see through him. He was ruffled.
‘You should’ve said something,’ I said.
He folded his arms across his chest and clenched his jaw.
‘Things might have turned out differently if you’d just been honest with us. It was you lying about being in work that led me to tell Naomi, which led to her confronting you, which led to you assaulting her and lying to her. What a mess you’ve made.’
Phillip crossed and uncrossed his legs. He was uncomfortable, wondering how much I knew and what I was going to do about it.
‘The hearing’s tomorrow, isn’t it? It would be a shame if you couldn’t attend. Mitigating circumstances, is it? Isn’t that what you told them? That there were mitigating circumstances?’ I could feel my anger rising.
He didn’t respond, but there was a slight shift in body language. His shoulders were tense and the muscles in his neck were twitching.
‘Seriously, Phillip? You’re using the death of our child as mitigating circumstances? How dare you use her as an excuse to get you out of trouble? You were a bastard long before the accident.’
I stood up and paced the small room.
‘You’re going to lose your job. No notice and no pay. I’m beginning to understand why you wanted me out of the house. You’re worried about money, aren’t you? The repayments on The Barn are costing you a fortune. So, what was it? You were going to leave Naomi to pay the mortgage on her own, and move in here instead? And here was me, thinking you had another woman. I should have known that no one else would be stupid enough to have you.’
‘I’m waiting,’ he said.
‘For what?’ I answered.
‘The demands, the clauses in the divorce or whatever. You want the house? Fine. You’ve got the house. Bring me a pen and I’ll sign your papers. I’ll make a deal with you. I want to get out of here and you want me gone, yeah? Let’s call it quits. I’ll go away and leave you be. Just unlock the bloody cuffs and we’ll say no more about it. But leave it much longer and the deal’s off.’
‘You’ll have to try harder than that,’ I said. ‘The house is already mine or, at least, it soon will be.’
‘What have you done?’
‘That friend of Rachel’s – you know, the Mickey Mouse solicitor – well, she helped with the paperwork. Naomi really is very good at your signature, isn’t she? The mortgage company is drawing up the deeds in my name. Your signature will still be required, but I’m sure Naomi will help with that. It’s not uncommon with divorces for couples to sign over property, rather than sell it or go through the courts.
‘Talking of houses, she’s been looking at the paperwork for The Barn. It dawned on her that it’s only in her name, isn’t it? A little plan you cooked up together, so that I couldn’t get my hands on any of it when we divorced. We think that’s why you panicked when Naomi said she was leaving you. Are we right? Is that when you came up with the idea of saying you had cancer? To court sympathy and buy time to sort out the paperwork? Stop me if any of this is wrong. It’s clever, Phillip, but not clever enough.’
I could tell this had hit home. He unfolded his arms and sat up. He was worried now. I could see that he was wondering what else we could possibly want from him.
‘Let me go and I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘You don’t have anything I want,’ I said. ‘Oh, yes, and you’ve paid for the repairs to Ruby’s car. The least you can do, after putting a brick through her window. And did you honestly criticise me for using our son’s birthday as the PIN for my phone, when you use your own birth date for your cash card? Lax, Phillip, lax. But totally within character, for a narcissist.’
Phillip was clenching and unclenching his fists, and I could hear his breathing coming faster. He was starting to fidget, to squirm.
I’d said everything I wanted to say to him. I was enjoying the feeling of power and revelling in the prospect of Phillip getting what he deserved. I turned my back on him and began walking up the stairs. My legs were tired, my body aching, my head bowed against the effort of propelling myself up the steps, but I felt satisfied.
I could see Naomi’s shadow at the top of the stairs. She and Ruby had been listening to every word. She smiled at me as I neared the top. There was a look of happy determination on her face. The air at the top of the cellar steps was warmer, thicker. Naomi and Ruby were standing in the hallway, arms linked. We were finally in control of the situation.
‘I can tell you everything,’ Phillip shouted from beneath me.
I shook my head. He was getting desperate and I didn’t want to hear anything more from him.
‘I’ve told you,’ I called back, ‘you’re in no position to make a deal.’
Before I could close the door Phillip said, ‘Really? Don’t you want to know who killed your baby?’
THIRTY-FIVE
8 days before the funeral
‘What makes you think I care any more?’ I called, though the voice didn’t sound like my own.
‘Oh, I know everything.’
I hesitated at the top of the cellar steps. I wanted to confront him, shake him and tell him he couldn’t say things like that. Scream that he couldn’t use what hurt me most to manipulate situations to suit him. I knew I had to walk away before he got into my mind. I was starting to make peace with what had happened, but there was still a part of me that wanted to know for certain. I couldn’t look at Ruby. I feared what I might see on her face.
Naomi put her hand on my arm and shook her head. Her eyes were saying, ‘Don’t rise to it.’ But I couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t said anything.
He had my attention.
I stiffly descended the steps. He arched one eyebrow at me.
He knew he had me now.
Hook.
Line.
Sinker.
I studied his face for an essence of truth, but I wasn’t sure I’d recognise it in him any more. Had he always known? Was it Ruby? Or was it someone else entirely? A stranger perhaps? I could bear it, if it was an accident. Could he have found out only recently? Or, more likely, could he be lying to save his own skin?