by Ernesto Lee
Seizing on Marchetti’s name, Tony is suddenly defiant again. Laughing quietly to himself he says, “Well, I guess that answers the question of why I’m sitting here with you now and not with DI Marchetti for my annual review meeting. Is it because you thought I would make it difficult for her?”
“Yes, it is,” Erin barks. “And it’s a fair enough assumption when you consider your less than accommodating attitude towards DI Marchetti since she joined the team.”
Bolton tries to speak but is cut off by a dismissive wave of Erin’s hand. “Let me finish, please. The reason you’re meeting with me and not with her is out of respect for both of you.
In your case, I’m genuinely interested in getting to the bottom of what has turned you from one of the most respected officers on the squad to someone that most of the team would be glad to see the back of.”
Erin’s last comment is a shock and clearly not what Tony was expecting to hear today. Noting his disbelieving expression, Erin slowly nods her head to reaffirm. “I’m sorry if that sounded harsh, Tony, but you need to take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror. Since Christmas, your attitude and interaction with DI Marchetti and the rest of the team has been nothing short of toxic. A prime example of that toxicity is the way you came into my office just now. Who the hell do you think you are?
“Your attitude and behavior are unacceptable, DS Bolton, and if I don’t see an immediate improvement, I will have no hesitation in having you transferred or put back into uniform. Do I make myself clear?”
With no defense and nowhere to go, Tony reluctantly nods and apologizes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve had a lot going on personally over the last six months, but you’re right; it’s no excuse for my behavior. I’ll apologize to DI Marchetti as soon as I get the opportunity. I’m also extremely sorry for my behavior today. It was uncalled for and no reflection of my respect for you.”
Skeptical but grateful for the acknowledgment, Erin thanks him. “Yes, I think it would be a good idea to apologize. You need to mean it, though, Tony. But more importantly, you need to get over whatever issues you have with DI Marchetti and start showing her the respect and cooperation she deserves as your senior officer. You know as well as I do that if it hadn’t been Terri appointed to the DI role, it would have been someone else.
“DI Marchetti is a first-class detective, though. You’ll quickly realize that if you take off the blinkers and give her a chance. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can. And I’m sorry again for my behavior. It was unfair of me to take out my frustration on DI Marchetti. It wasn’t intentional, but when I saw her coming into the pub at Christmas, I was angry and upset. What I mean to say is… well, it was a shock, that’s all, and I let myself down. It was nothing personal, and I shouldn’t have let things continue as long as they have.”
Biting the bullet, Erin asks, “So, it had nothing to do with the prior personal history between me and DI Marchetti?”
Looking embarrassed, Tony briefly turns away before looking back. “That had nothing to do with it, ma’am.”
Then showing his true colors again and almost sounding condescending, he adds, “How you choose to live your lives and what you get up to together in your private lives is your own business. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
The intimation that Erin and Terri are still somehow romantically involved and the veiled reference to their sexuality doesn’t go unnoticed, but keen to keep things calm, Erin doesn’t make a big issue of it.
“Good, because if there is some underlying issue with our prior relationship, then this is your opportunity to get it out on the table, DS Bolton.”
“No, no issue,” Tony says, shaking his head and sounding sincere. “This whole issue has been about me being pissed off with missing out on the DI role and venting my frustration in the wrong way.”
Erin has been a detective long enough to know that Tony is simply telling her what he thinks she wants to hear. She also knows that she would be wasting her time trying to push an old hand like Tony any further. Hopeful that her intervention has been enough at least to make him see sense and temper his attitude towards Terri, she smiles and nods her approval.
“Okay, well, if that is the case, then it looks like we can put this behind us and move forward. I’ll let DI Marchetti know that you’re going to be speaking to her. Is that okay with you?”
Tony nods and confirms that it is. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll speak to her and apologize as soon as I get the chance.”
Pleased to be able to change the subject, Erin moves the discussion in a different direction entirely. “So, what else is going on, Tony? Did you say that Rhonda was going to Spain to spend some time with her mother?”
“It was her sister,” Tony corrects her. “And, yes. She left yesterday.”
“Will she be gone for long?” Erin asks.
Tony shrugs his shoulders dismissively. “I’ve no idea, and quite frankly, I don’t really care either. She’s made her bed. She’s not my problem anymore.”
Uncomfortable at the way the conversation is going, Erin is grateful to be interrupted by her cell phone ringing. Mouthing an apology to Tony, she listens quietly as Terri updates her on the arrest.
“Any trouble?” Erin asks.
“A bit of a scuffle, but nothing significant,” Terri replies. “We’ve just got onto the M62. If the traffic holds, we’ll be with you in about an hour.”
Thanking her, Erin ends the call and smiles at Bolton. “That was DI Marchetti. They’ll be here shortly with John Murray.”
Tony nods impassively. “Okay, well, I guess you need to get ready then. Do you want me present in the interview, ma’am?”
“Of course.” Erin smiles. “You’re a key member of this team, and I need all the experience I can get for this one, Tony.”
Still seemingly indifferent to the praise, Bolton asks, “Okay, thanks. Will that be all, ma’am?”
Disappointed with his indifference but tempering her emotion again, Erin nods. “Yes, it is. We’ll continue this meeting another time. Thanks for your understanding, Tony. I’ll call you once the team arrives back with Murray.”
. . . . . . . .
A little over an hour later, Erin and Tony Bolton meet in the station reception to await the arrival of their guest. Shortly afterwards, a smiling Terri arrives and joins her colleagues next to the counter.
“Still behaving?” Erin asks.
“He is.” Terri then turns to the door and nods. “Here they are now. See for yourself.”
With Lloyd and Benson holding firmly to his arms, Murray slowly shuffles through the door with his head down. He briefly looks up to see where he is before sheepishly returning his gaze to the floor. Erin’s first impression is of a frightened and broken man. Long experience, however, has taught her never to take a first impression at face value.
She is also now aware from talking with Terri that Murray may not be quite as passive as first thought, but more importantly, that he was in Liverpool on the night of the Singh murder.
Lloyd and Benson lead him through to the booking-in area, and Terri asks, “Will I get one of the interview suites ready, ma’am?”
“Actually, no,” Erin replies. “Chief Superintendent Anderson has advised against interviewing immediately. Given the nature of the charges Murray is facing, he feels it would be better for us not to rush into it.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning, Terri, that we first need to arrange for Murray to see a medical examiner and then for him to have a psych evaluation.”
“You look disappointed,” Terri says.
“I am. But the boss is right. We need to make sure he’s physically and mentally fit for interview before we get to work on him. In a case like this, it would be all too easy for any good brief to roll out the looney tunes card if things start going badly for Murray. Which I absolutely expect they will.”
Shrugging, Terri asks, “What now then?”
; “Help get him booked in. Then get him into a single cell.
I’ll see what strings I can pull to get the psych evaluation done immediately, so that we can get the report before end of business today. One way or another, I want Murray ready for interview first thing tomorrow morning.”
Turning to Bolton, she adds, “Get onto DI Gladwell, please, Tony. I need to know if he’s turned up anything new to link Murray to the Wilton or Pope murders. All we have currently is the hammer with trace DNA from Shreya Singh that may or may not be from Murray’s toolkit. It’s not enough.”
“He admitted to being in Liverpool on the night of her death,” Terri comments.
“Still not enough,” Erin says. “It’s circumstantial at best. Anyway, let’s see what he has to say about that during the interview. Either way, we’re going to need much more to satisfy the Crown Prosecution Service. Okay, get to it, guys. Call me if you find out anything significant. Otherwise, crack on. We’ll regroup to compare notes at eight thirty tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Nine
Thursday 21st March 2019
Annoyed at not being forewarned of the arrival of the press pack, Erin angrily forces a path through the mass of baying journalists surrounding her car and pushes onwards towards the station entrance. Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge or answer their requests for a quote or confirmation of a suspect in custody, she is met at the door by a sheepish-looking Terri, who quickly ushers her inside and out of sight.
“Thanks for the warning,” Erin snipes sarcastically. “I’d have come in the back way if I’d known there was a bloody reception committee waiting for me.”
Careful not to antagonize her further, Terri frowns and quietly says, “I tried calling you three times, boss. Perhaps your phone is—”
Glancing down to her phone, Erin tuts and shakes her head. “Shit. I’m sorry, Terri. My bad. It’s on silent. Are Bolton and Gladwell both here yet?”
“Tony is. He’s waiting in your office. DI Gladwell called to say he would be a few minutes late.”
“That’s not like him,” Erin comments. “Malcolm Gladwell is normally irritatingly early. I wonder if that’s significant.”
“It might well be. He didn’t say much, but he sounded a bit hyper and out of breath when we spoke.”
. . . . . . . .
The door to Erin’s office swings open, and Tony Bolton hastily puts away his cell phone and gets to his feet. He offers both senior officers a polite good morning before catching Terri completely off guard with an unexpected and out-of-character smile. “I hope you slept well, ma’am. I think today is going to be a good day.”
Slightly taken aback but pleased with the apparent positive shift in attitude, Terri returns the smile. “Thanks. I slept very well, Tony. And I think you might be right. Where is the prisoner now?”
“I put him in interview suite two, ma’am. He’s been there for just over thirty minutes with his legal counsel, Mr. Conor Quinlan.”
“Quinlan. Do we know him?” Erin asks.
“No, ma’am. He’s from the legal-aid pool.” Then, smirking, Tony adds, “And fresh out of law school by the look of him.”
Erin returns his smirk with a frown. “Ordinarily, that would be a distinct and welcome advantage, but I don’t want the lack of an adequate defense to be used against us in any future appeal.” Directly addressing both officers, she then adds, “We play this one hundred percent by the book, guys. No games, no tricks, and nothing that can leave us exposed. Clear?”
“Clear,” Terri says.
Tony quickly echoes the affirmation before asking, “Good cop, bad cop is still okay, though, ma’am?”
“Yes, of course,” Erin confirms. “Let’s not push it further than necessary, though.”
“Great. Will I go and give them the heads-up that we will be starting soon?”
Shaking her head, Erin opens her bag and places two white A4 envelopes onto her desk. “No, first things first, Tony. I have some good news to share. I also want to get an update from Malcolm Gladwell before we begin the interview.”
Right on cue, the door opens and a red-faced and out-of-breath DI Gladwell bustles in and takes his seat. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I was waiting for some urgent printouts. There has been an important breakthro—”
Raising her hand to stop him, Erin smiles. “That’s quite all right, Malcolm. You haven’t missed anything. I was just about to share an important update of my own. Passing one of the envelopes to Tony, she smiles again. “Inside that envelope are copies of the medical report and mental health evaluations carried out on John Murray yesterday afternoon. They were delivered to my home late last night, and I’m pleased to say that the force’s medical examiner along with an independently appointed psychiatrist have both passed Murray as being A1 fit for interview.”
“He’s not mad then?” Tony asks.
“Nope. According to the quack, he’s as sane as you or I,” Erin replies. “Take that envelope in to Mr. Quinlan, please. It’s unlikely that he will already be considering trying to delay us on medical or psych grounds, but if he is, this should be enough to put that idea to bed. Tell him we will be starting in ten minutes.”
Tony is about to stand up when DI Gladwell intervenes and suggests to Erin that he might wait a moment. Still flustered from his late arrival, he then adds, “Perhaps you might also want to share my update with them, ma’am. It’s highly significant.”
His breathless and less than confident delivery is enough to give Erin cause for concern and she nervously asks, “I hope I’m reading you wrong and your update is good news, Malcolm?”
Suddenly aware of his demeanor, Gladwell straightens himself up and enthusiastically splutters, “Oh, yes, yes. It’s very good news. Sorry if it sounded like it wasn’t. I was still catching my breath.” Clearly pleased with himself, he smiles and hands each of his colleagues a sheet of paper.
“This is why I was late, ma’am. I came in early this morning to have another crack at the hammer to see what else it might reveal.”
The partial fingerprint jumps out from the sheet of paper and Erin can hardly contain her excitement. “Oh God, please tell me it’s a match, DI Gladwell. Tell me it’s a match for Murray.”
Nodding his head with renewed enthusiasm, Gladwell confirms that it is. “It’s less than one third of a full print, but there are fourteen points of commonality with the prints we have on file for Murray. That is more than enough to declare a match.”
“You’re absolutely sure of that?” Erin asks.
“Yes, ma’am. As you know, the legally accepted minimum permissible standard is twelve points on a full print. I’ve triple-checked this one myself, and I’ve also had one of my colleagues recheck to verify. It’s conclusive. It’s Murray’s fingerprint.”
“That’s it then,” Tony loudly declares. “We have the bastard!”
“Not quite,” Gladwell says. “The fingerprint and DNA evidence are compelling enough to conclude that the hammer has been handled by Murray at some stage. And that it was the murder weapon used to kill Shreya Singh. It may not, however, be quite enough to link the two facts and convict him.”
Gladwell’s comment momentarily takes the wind from Tony’s sails, but refusing to be beaten, he shrugs and grunts, “Maybe not, but this and the fact he was in Liverpool on the night of the murder is a bloody good start. He’s our man, all right. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay, well, let’s not count our chickens,” Erin says. “Take this and the medical docs through to them. We’ll give them another fifteen minutes to read through and discuss before we start.”
“You don’t think it might be better to hold on to the fingerprint data for now?” Terri asks. “It’s always good to have an ace up our sleeves.”
“I said no games or tricks,” Erin replies. “Besides, I’m hoping that by letting them know we have the fingerprint, Murray’s brief will advise him to see sense and save us all a lot of time and effort.” Nodding to Tony, she tells him to take the d
ocuments through to Quinlan. “We’ll join you shortly. Thanks, Tony.”
Turning to Gladwell, Erin says, “When Murray came in, he was wearing a grey hoodie. Was it—?”
Anticipating the question, Gladwell shakes his head and interrupts, “No, ma’am. I’m sorry. It wasn’t a match for the fibers recovered at the Singh murder scene. The fibers were a similar cotton and polyester blend but were definitely not a forensic match.”
“That’s okay,” Erin says, masking her disappointment. “That would have been the icing on the cake, I guess, but no problem. Thanks to you, we have more than enough to be going on with. Was there anything else, Malcolm?”
“Yes, ma’am. Using the experimental technique I told you about, I also managed to isolate a sample of DNA and another partial fingerprint on the glove found near the Singh crime scene. They’re not from Murray, though, and I don’t have a positive match for either yet.”
Frowning, Erin says, “Superintendent Anderson suggested that the glove might possibly be unconnected to the Singh murder. What do you think?”
“That’s possible, I suppose,” Gladwell says with a nod. “But I’ll keep at it anyway.”
Nodding, Erin thanks her colleague and confirms that he is no longer needed. She shows Gladwell to the door before retaking her seat. “What do you think then? Is Tony right? Is Murray our man?”
“Much as it pains me to admit that Tony Bolton might be right about something, it’s certainly looking that way,” Terri replies.
“I agree,” Erin says. “And even though he may be the most insincere asshole on the planet at times, I also believe he was right about one other thing.”
“What’s that?” Terri asks with a look of confusion.
“He was right when he told you it was going to be a good day. The only question is just how good a day it’s going to be.”
Nodding her head, then smirking, Terri says, “You didn’t finish telling me how your meeting went with him yesterday.”