False Witness

by Michelle Davies

  ‘I know that feeling. Look, do you want to come in and talk about it?’ asked Alan companionably. ‘I can only offer you water, mind. The milk’s off and I was on my way to the Co-op when the police came for me again.’

  Lincoln lifted up the carrier bag he was holding, the bottles it contained clinking as he did.

  ‘I came prepared.’

  71

  It was soon apparent that Poppy was physically incapable of answering any more questions. She had stopped crying but was curled up against Julia on one of the sofas, her face buried into her shoulder, eyes tightly shut. She wouldn’t look up despite Maggie and Belmar doing their gentle best to coax her and after half an hour of trying Maggie called time on their efforts.

  ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ she said to Belmar. ‘I think we all need a break. Julia, can I get you a tea or coffee? What would Poppy like?’

  ‘I’ll have a tea please, milk, no sugar. Do you have any lemonade?’

  Poppy suddenly raised her head.

  ‘Really?’

  Julia smiled at her. ‘I think it’s allowed today.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no to a tea either,’ said Ayse. ‘I take mine the same.’

  Maggie and Belmar left the ABE suite and as they went Julia felt the tension begin to seep from her limbs. Poppy uncurled herself and yawned.

  ‘You tired, honey?’

  The girl nodded and it alarmed Julia how awful she looked, her face puffy and red from all the crying.

  ‘Hopefully we’ll be able to get out of here soon and go home.’

  Poppy’s eyes widened with fear and she shook her head. ‘Do we have to?’

  ‘Go home? Of course we do. Where else would we go?’

  ‘Can’t we go and stay with Grandpa in Spain?’

  ‘Poppy, that’s a crazy idea. For one thing the police have asked us not to go too far from Mansell. I don’t think they’ll be happy with us going on holiday.’

  ‘Not a holiday. For good.’

  Julia was baffled. ‘Poppy, what’s all this about?’

  ‘I don’t want to stay here any more. This place is horrible. I hate it.’

  Julia caught Ayse’s eye and blushed.

  ‘Sweetheart, we can’t just move away from Mansell. Our jobs are here, our friends are here –’ She stopped herself, fearing Ayse might think it was inappropriate for her to say that because one of Poppy’s friends was now dead. ‘What I mean is, moving away is not an option right now.’

  Poppy slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes. Julia was at a loss what to say and was grateful when the door opened and Belmar and Maggie came in bearing their drinks.

  ‘I need the toilet,’ Poppy suddenly announced.

  ‘So do I,’ said Ayse. ‘I know where the nearest one is, if you want to come with me?’

  Poppy eyed her warily. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Mrs Hepworth, can I ask you something?’ asked Maggie, as the door shut behind them. ‘It’s a bit of a personal question but it does relate to Poppy.’

  Julia was midway through swallowing a mouthful of tea and began to cough as it went down the wrong way. Maggie waited until her spluttering had eased, then raised an eyebrow expectantly at her.

  ‘Yes, ask me,’ she said.

  ‘Does Poppy know about what happened on the viaduct?’

  This time it was her breath that caught in her throat. Even though she’d known there was a good chance the police would find out and want to question her about it, hearing Maggie mention her past still rocked her to her core.

  ‘Mrs Hepworth?’

  ‘You can call me Julia,’ she said, desperately scrabbling for the answer Maggie was waiting for.

  ‘Okay, Julia. Does Poppy know what happened?’

  ‘Yes, she does. My husband, he, um . . . well, he thought she should know.’

  The reality was that Ewan used it as a stick to beat her with, or rather undermine her with. From Poppy’s tantrums as a toddler to her pre-teen back-chatting, any behaviour their daughter exhibited that Ewan deemed unacceptable was because of what Julia did that day on the viaduct. Instead of castigating Poppy, he would tell their daughter it wasn’t her fault because she couldn’t help herself – Mummy was to blame, for exposing her to such awfulness at an early age.

  She wasn’t going to tell the police that though.

  ‘Does she remember anything of what happened?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ said Julia. ‘I can barely remember it myself.’

  She had the drugs to thank for that, the tranquillizers her doctor had prescribed to help her cope with PND but which turned her into a zombie incapable of rational thought. They made her think she had no other option, that jumping off the viaduct was the only thing that would save her and Poppy from the terrible dark cloud enveloping her. It was only weeks later, once she was out of hospital and weaned off the drugs, that she could comprehend what she’d done. So she didn’t blame Ewan for being unable to forget – he was the one who had witnessed it, after all.

  ‘I don’t really see why you’re asking me,’ she said. ‘It’s got nothing to do with –’ she waved her hand – ‘all this.’

  Maggie said nothing.

  ‘How does Poppy get on with her brother?’ asked Belmar. ‘It’s Dylan, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. They get on fine. Well, like siblings. One minute they adore each other, the next they’re squabbling over the remote.’

  ‘Has she ever hurt him?’ asked Belmar.

  Julia reared up like a lioness bearing her claws to protect her cubs.

  ‘How dare you! I know what you’re trying to suggest but you can forget it. Poppy doesn’t hurt other children, especially not her brother.’

  Neither officer responded: they simply sat there watching her. Julia’s instinct was to fill the uncomfortable silence but the thought of saying the wrong thing kept her lips tightly shut.

  Maggie checked her watch. It was a big, chunky one, more like a man’s than a woman’s.

  ‘They’ve been ten minutes. I’m going to go and check on them.’

  Julia watched Belmar as she sipped her tea. He was scribbling notes on a pad.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ she ventured.

  He looked up and smiled.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What will happen to Poppy, if . . . if she can’t make you believe her?’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know if I can—’

  ‘Please,’ she implored. ‘I want to know.’

  ‘Well, if we thought there was a case to answer we would formally charge her. Then there would be an initial court hearing to decide if she was eligible for bail.’

  Julia was horrified. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

  ‘Even children can be denied bail if the charge is serious,’ said Belmar sombrely.

  ‘What, you’d send an eleven-year-old to prison before they’ve stood trial?’

  ‘No, no, she would be remanded into the care of the local authority. It’s called youth detention accommodation.’

  Julia felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Poppy being taken away from them.

  ‘She didn’t do it, I swear she didn’t,’ she said tearfully. ‘You have to believe me—’

  A commotion outside in the corridor cut her short. She could hear raised voices, then shouting.

  Suddenly the door burst open and Ewan walked in flanked by their solicitor, Darren. Maggie came after them, with Poppy and Ayse trailing close behind.

  ‘How could you be so stupid?’ Ewan yelled at her. ‘You should never have let them interview Poppy without me or him here.’

  Julia scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, they said we had to come.’

  ‘God, you are such an idiot,’ he sneered.

  Maggie put herself between the couple.

  ‘Mr Hepworth, you need to calm down.’

  He looked incredulous. ‘You can’t tell me how to talk to my wife.’

  ‘Ewan, let me deal with this,�
�� said Darren hastily. ‘Did you interview Poppy under caution?’ he asked Maggie.

  ‘No, she is here as a material witness.’

  ‘Do you have any further questions for her?’

  Julia could see Maggie hesitate. ‘Not right now, no.’

  ‘Then my client will be exercising her right to leave.’

  Maggie nodded, but Julia could tell she wasn’t happy.

  ‘Right, let’s go home,’ said Ewan, shooting Julia a look that made her cringe. ‘Come on, honey,’ he said, holding a hand out to Poppy.

  ‘No!’

  Everyone looked at her with surprise.

  ‘I don’t want to go with you,’ she said, scuttling over to Julia and taking her hand.

  Julia was stunned. She couldn’t remember the last time Poppy had chosen to go with her over Ewan. Judging by his expression, neither could he.

  72

  Anyone observing Maggie and Umpire’s exchanges during the final briefing of the day who didn’t know them would never have guessed they were even friendly, let alone a couple. They were the epitome of icy professionalism, trading information in clipped comments that belied their feelings for one another.

  Maggie wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up though. The intense anger she’d felt earlier had waned to mild irritation and she found that, contrary to her expectations, she hadn’t minded her first day as Acting DS. If nothing else it had been good to work with Belmar again, even if they hadn’t got much further with Poppy. Now, with the end of her shift in sight, there was nothing she wanted more than to head to the nearest pub garden with Umpire, order herself a large glass of chilled white wine and enjoy the last of the heatwave.

  Umpire, however, had other ideas, as he concluded the briefing with details of a number of arrests the team were to make first thing in the morning.

  ‘The majority of numbers in Violet Castle’s book have turned out to be for burner phones – those clients were clever enough not to use their registered mobiles to arrange to see her.’

  Unlike ACC Bailey, thought Maggie. She wondered why it had never occurred to him to cover his tracks more.

  ‘So we’ve concentrated on tracing the clients who were that stupid,’ Umpire added, ‘and those are the ones we’ll be picking up. We’re struggling to build a timeline of Violet’s movements before her death and these men might be able to help . . .’

  Maggie’s heart sank as he began detailing which officers would be covering the arrests. The operation put paid to them having a night out: Umpire wouldn’t want a late night with the arrests happening as the sun went up. It’d have to be tea, telly, then bed.

  But Umpire had other ideas about that too.

  Briefing over and the team dispersed, he called her to the front of the room.

  ‘Well done for today.’

  ‘I didn’t get Poppy to confess to pushing Benji, though,’ she said. ‘But I think I can: it was obvious to me and Belmar that she knew Benji had seen the body. We just need to keep up the pressure.’ She paused. ‘Unless you think we have enough to go on to convince the CPS to bring charges?’

  ‘I think the gentle approach is better. Bring her back in tomorrow morning, but make sure this time her solicitor sits in.’

  ‘I will. What time will you be finished here? I want to pop round to see Imogen on my way home.’

  Umpire crossed his arms and Maggie started when she saw he was annoyed.

  ‘What’s that look for?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re not Imogen’s FLO so you don’t need to go round to check on her in person. That’s why I brought in Hazel.’

  Maggie bristled, her anger of earlier rearing back up. ‘But I want to.’

  ‘You need to focus on the job I’ve given you,’ he said sternly.

  That did it.

  ‘A job I didn’t want,’ she hissed, lowering her voice so the others couldn’t hear. ‘You know how much I love being a FLO but you’ve forced me to give it up.’

  ‘It’s one case. You’re overreacting,’ he said, his voice dropping to match her volume.

  ‘That’s not the point. This is about you deciding what’s best for me and me having no say in it. I don’t like being manipulated. How would you like it if I made decisions that affected your career without consulting you? You didn’t even tell me you were coming in as SIO.’

  ‘There wasn’t time.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ said Maggie, heat rising in her cheeks. ‘You could’ve texted me.’

  ‘Okay, I should’ve let you know, but funnily enough I was too occupied with taking over the investigation into a young woman’s murder that one of my friends has been implicated in.’

  Maggie felt a twinge of guilt. It was a plausible excuse: his friendship with Bailey had been important to him.

  ‘Let’s talk about it at home,’ she said.

  Umpire looked sheepish.

  ‘I’ve booked into a hotel.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I’ve got a lot to get through before tomorrow.’

  Maggie was determined not to show how upset she was.

  ‘Yes, that’s sensible.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Why would I?’ She tried to sound nonchalant, but inside she was fuming at the rejection. ‘I’m going to head off now, unless you need me for anything else?’

  He smiled and she hated the effect he had on her. She wasn’t ready to let go of her anger.

  ‘No, you can go. I’ll call you later.’

  She walked away, not answering.

  Her flat occupied the top floor of a four-storey Victorian house. The flat below hers was spread over the first and ground floors, while the bottom flat was in the basement, accessed down a small set of wrought-iron stairs. Maggie didn’t know the owner of the bottom flat – it was a man, living alone, that much she had worked out – so she never paid much attention when she walked up the steps to the main front door.

  Today she did.

  Sitting halfway down the metal steps, huddled over as though he was cold was a rangy young man. He appeared agitated and upset, was possibly even crying.

  Maggie faltered.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  The young man’s head snapped up and Maggie saw instantly he was actually a teenager. Then she gasped.

  ‘Jude?’

  He clambered to his feet and rushed up the steps to her, almost sending her flying in his eagerness to hug her.

  ‘Whoa, whoa, Jude, calm down,’ she laughed. She gently pushed her nephew away and held him at arm’s length. In seven months he’d shot up by inches and the soft edges of his childhood were melting away to reveal a sharp, adolescent bone structure that he’d inherited from Lou. But everything else about him – his skin tone, his nose, his eyes – was Jerome’s.

  ‘Jude, what on earth are you doing here?’

  His eyes filled with tears but she could see from his expression they were the product of anger, not sorrow.

  ‘I can’t stay there any more,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘I want to live with you. Please don’t send me back.’

  73

  The story came tumbling out as they sat together on the sofa, arms entwined. Maggie wanted to drink in every moment of being with her nephew because she knew, once the conversation ended, she had no choice but to call Lou and let her know Jude had run away to Mansell.

  But first she listened.

  ‘We stayed with Nana and Granddad for about a month, so we could get into a school near them. Then I think Granddad gave Mum the money so we could get our own flat. It’s about a five-minute walk from theirs so at first we saw them all the time. They’d get Scotty from school and helped Mum with Mae.’

  ‘At first?’

  A shadow crossed Jude’s face.

  ‘Before Terry.’

  ‘That’s your mum’s new partner?’

  ‘Fiancé.’

  Maggie couldn’t hide her disappointment.

  ‘She’s marrying him? How long have t
hey been together?’

  ‘Three months. I hate him. He shouts at us and tells us what to do.’ Jude slammed his fist down on the sofa in frustration. ‘I don’t want him to be my new fucking dad.’

  ‘Whoa, mister, I know you’re upset but it’s not okay to swear like that.’

  Jude’s eyes glistened with tears.

  ‘Can I please come and live here? Please, Auntie Maggie.’

  ‘You know your mum isn’t going to let that happen. Whatever else she’s done she loves you with all her heart. Have you told her how you feel about Terry?’

  ‘I’ve tried, but you know what Mum’s like when she meets a new bloke. Nothing else matters.’

  Maggie understood. For years she’d watched a revolving door of men come in and out of her sister’s life and saw how the first flush of passion always turned Lou into a giddy, distracted mess. When the children were younger it didn’t seem to trouble them so much, plus she had been there to step in and make sure they weren’t neglected. But the toll of this latest relationship was evident now on Jude’s pinched, tear-streaked face.

  ‘Has Terry ever got physical with you?’ she asked.

  ‘No, but he threatens it all the time. He raises his fist like he’s going to hit us, so we’ll get scared. He’s even done it to Mae.’

  Anger coursed through her.

  ‘Why doesn’t your mum stop him?’

  ‘He does it when she’s not there.’

  ‘Have you told Nana and Granddad?’

  ‘We hardly see them now. They don’t like Terry either and Mum says until they’re nice to him they’re not welcome at ours. I want to see them but I’m worried what Mum will say. We talk on the phone, though.’

  Maggie was frustrated her parents hadn’t contacted her for help and she wondered if it was their pride stopping them. They’d whisked Lou down to the south coast in the hope of rebuilding their oft-fraught relationship with her but in a matter of months it had soured again.