by Dylan Young
Was about to undergo, she muses.
Now that the virus is here, who knows when it will happen. Keely shakes her head. No point dwelling on all that. She’s here in Walworth because the DCI from Major Investigation Team 12, who are now running the show, insisted. He wants her ‘local knowledge’; a euphemistic reference to her knowing more than anyone in the Met about Emma Roxburgh’s death and what links Cameron Todd to the man in custody. Keely is happy to oblige. Anything to get this toerag put away.
Haldane is alone in the interview room because he’s refused a solicitor. If that’s not a sign of the depth of his arrogance, Keely doesn’t know what is. She studies him. He’s calm, untroubled, despite being charged with two counts of attempted murder. It’s almost six in the evening because they’ve taken this long to get him checked out and passed fit for interview, first by the hospital they took him to after being tasered, and then by the police medic.
The door to the anteroom opens and a man steps in. He’s not tall, but wiry and fit-looking in a charcoal suit. DCI John McTeague has a kind of nervous energy and sharp smarts that has won him a lot of friends in the force and a lot of enemies amongst criminals. Keely has heard of him. Knows he runs MIT 12 with a pared back approach that elicits intense loyalty and thoroughness. The sort of leader people follow.
Even though she knows this, she’s still surprised when he says, ‘This is your show, Rhian. I’ve heard good things. So I will not do anything but listen while you and Haldane chat.’
‘Okay.’
‘Good. Let’s do it.’
55
Keely puts her hand out and presses a button on the DIR with dual CD recorders. A red light gleams and the machine drones out a long commencement signal. She suppresses a smile. She’s seen this so many times on TV as a trope. A means of stretching out the tension as the camera swings from interviewer to interviewee. Someone once measured the length as lasting up to twelve seconds. In truth it’s never more than three. She knows they’re also being videotaped, but there’ll be no directorial instruction here. All for the record.
When the signal ends, Keely says, ‘This interview is being conducted with Mathew Haldane under caution at 6.22pm on Monday March 23rd at Walworth Police Station. Present are myself, Detective Sergeant Rhian Keely, and Detective Chief Inspector John McTeague.’
McTeague sits six feet behind her, upright, quiet. They’ve brought in another desk to ensure an appropriate two-metre gap. Haldane, a similar distance away on the other side of the desks, is slouching a little. He’s been here for a good two hours, waiting.
‘For the record, Mr Haldane, you are certain you do not want any representation in the form of a solicitor.’
‘Yes, I am certain. And you can call me Doctor Haldane.’
‘You are no longer on the medical register,’ Keely replies.
Haldane’s smile is brief. ‘I am not. But I still have letters after my name. They don’t take away your degree, sergeant. Last time I looked there were ten after mine. That’s eight more than you have, correct? Or perhaps you got none at all from night school?’
Keely ignores the posturing. ‘Can you tell us what took place at flat 78, Limassol Buildings today.’
‘Someone was pushed off a balcony.’
‘Someone?’
‘A woman. Her name was Selena Burridge. She was pushed off the balcony by a lunatic called Cameron Todd.’
‘You knew Ms Burridge?’
‘She was a friend of mine. Todd is unstable. He was threatening to jump off the balcony. We tried to restrain him but he pushed Ms Burridge off.’
‘May I remind you that what you say now will be held against you, especially if you lie. What were you doing at the flat, Mr Haldane?’
Haldane hesitates. Keely has not agreed to his wish to address him as doctor for a reason. Her dad still does nights on call, her brother-in-law’s a medic too and has slogged his guts out to become a GI surgeon and stay humble, like Viri. She respects them both. Something she most definitely does not have for this arrogant, lying dirtbag in front of her.
‘Ms Burridge invited me to stay.’
‘You realise that you were violating the terms of your restraining order?’
‘She invited me over. We were going to self-isolate together.’
‘What about Harriet Roxburgh?’
‘She must have been with Todd. She demanded to see him. Banged on the door. When she entered, he stabbed her. Is she dead?’
‘Seriously injured and just out of surgery. They’re trying to stabilise her.’
Haldane shakes his head. ‘Like I say, Todd is a disturbed individual.’
‘What was he doing in the apartment?’
‘No idea. The bloke was off his head. He just turned up. Pretended he knew Selena. I don’t think he had any idea where he was. He must have followed me into the building.’
‘He had no connection with Ms Burridge?’
‘Not that I know of.’ Haldane sits up. ‘After he attacked Harriet Roxburgh, he tried to jump off the balcony. When we attempted to subdue him, some lunatic broke in and the next thing I’m being tasered by some thug and Selena is dead.’
‘Were you close to her?’ Keely asks. She watches Haldane’s expression closely, waiting for some sign of emotion.
All Haldane does is shrug. ‘We were sleeping together. Does that answer your question?’
Keely doesn’t think it does, but she changes tack. ‘We will interview Harriet Roxburgh if and when she recovers.’
‘Best of luck with that. I think she and Todd are in this together. Must have been, otherwise why should she turn up? They’ll make some bullshit up to implicate me.’
‘In what way?’
‘Anyone’s guess. But it’ll be in a way that makes my life even worse than it was. The Roxburghs have it in for me.’
‘And why is that?’
Haldane folds his arms. ‘I wonder…’
Keely pretends to move some papers around in the file she has in front of her. ‘Because you were convicted of harassing Emma Roxburgh?’
Haldane lets out a snort of derision. ‘Like I said at the time, she was a willing participant. She flirted with me. I flirted back.’
‘Three hundred and thirty-two texts including naked images of yourself are hardly what I’d call flirtatious.’
‘No? Well, I suspect you’ve never sent a photo of yourself to anyone, sergeant.’ Haldane leers at Keely. ‘Never felt the need to spice things up, perhaps.’
She knows she will shower and use half a bottle of gel when this is over. The expensive stuff that stays on the skin for a good while.
‘Whereas I,’ Haldane continues, ‘have no such reservations. It’s the twenty-first century. Sexting is a thing. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.’
Keely, looking down at her notes, waits a moment before letting her gaze drift up towards Haldane who has opened his legs and spread his arms. She’s met psychopathic narcissists before. Cold, empathy-free manipulators that ruin lives, including their own. But this one is a real peach.
‘What can you tell us about Emma Roxburgh’s death in Turkey?’
Haldane folds his hands over his crotch, feigning horrified shock. ‘Is she dead? Really?’
‘We interviewed you at the time.’
‘Oh yeah. Now I remember.’ Haldane smiles at his own little joke.
‘So you will be well aware that the inquest recorded an open verdict. The Turks kept the file open. Emma fell to her death from a cliff and Cameron Todd was severely injured the same night. Do you know anything about this?’
‘If he was there, why don’t you ask Todd?’
‘Mr Todd’s injuries left him with a dense amnesia.’
‘Oh, come on, we all know that’s just bullshit.’ He sits up. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Just a few more questions,’ Keely says. She takes out her phone. ‘When Harriet Roxburgh entered the penthouse apartment, after she was stabbed and you left her for dead, what you were not aw
are of was that she was in phone contact with a private investigator called John Stamford. He has software on his phone that records all incoming calls. We found a phone on the balcony. My guess is that Harriet Roxburgh threw it onto the decking so that Stamford could listen to what was being said. Amazingly clear under the circumstances. I’d like you to listen to it.’
‘No thanks.’ Haldane stands up.
From behind her, Keely hears McTeague speak for the first time. ‘Sit down.’
Something crosses Haldane’s features. A belligerent glare that evaporates on seeing McTeague’s expression and hearing the command. He sits, legs out straight in front of him again like a cocky schoolboy, arms crossed, lips arced in a toothless smirk.
She slides some papers over to him. ‘We’ve transcribed the recording. Added names to the voices. In case you get confused.’
Keely presses play. The voices they hear are muted and there is extraneous noise, but she turns up the volume and sits back.
BURRIDGE: Cameron, are you all right?
TODD: He stabbed Harriet.
BURRIDGE: No, Cameron. There’s no Harriet. There’s no need, Cameron. Let it go.
HALDANE: Just a delivery. Sorry about the intrusion.
BURRIDGE: Cameron seems to have had a bit of a turn.
HALDANE: Oh, dear. Let’s pick up where we left off. You were looking out, remember? Telling us what you were seeing. London? Or is it a rooftop bar with Emma?
TODD: It’s London. Of course it’s bloody London. But I saw Harriet. You let her in and stabbed–
HALDANE: The term is dislocation, Cameron. You’re having difficulty separating the hallucinations from reality. You’re here with us at our offices. Harriet isn’t here.
TODD: But the knife. I picked it up.
BURRIDGE: Only a teaspoon.
TODD: No. It was a knife you used–
BURRIDGE: You’re confused, Cameron.
HALDANE: You’ve been confused for some time. Your sister is worried about you. She’s asking why you haven’t contacted her.
TODD: You know why I haven’t seen her. She’s isolating. One of the kids has the virus–
HALDANE: What virus?
TODD: What virus? Coven bloody 19… Covid-19. The lockdown. Anyone infected or in close contact has to self… self-isolate for fourteen days. The bloody apocalypse… What?
HALDANE: Paranoia can sometimes be a part of a deterioration. SBI patients can become manic. That and the fugues changing…
TODD: I’m not paranoid. It’s the virus.
HALDANE: There is no virus, Cameron. No lockdown. London is as it always has been. Look.
BURRIDGE: What do you see, Cameron?
TODD: I see a London dished… diminished. There’s hardly anyone around.
HALDANE: And yet, we see normal traffic, bustling roads. There’s even a busker.
TODD: I… I can’t.
HALDANE: Listen, Cameron.
Vague moaning.
BURRIDGE: There’s no one there, Cameron.
TODD: Nicole, I…
BURRIDGE: It’s all in your head, Cameron. I am not Nicole.
HARRIET: Cameron.
The recording ends. Haldane is still sitting as he was just moments before, but there is no longer a smirk. He looks up into Keely’s face.
‘I’m a good judge of character, sergeant. Not often am I wrong. But I didn’t see you for the conniving bitch that you are. I want a solicitor.’
56
Wednesday 8 April
I’m in Stamford’s office. Just me and him. We’re sitting a good six feet apart facing a TV on his wall. There’s a split screen filled by two live headshots. On one side is Rachel, on the other is Keely. They’re using group software. It could be Skype or Google Hangouts, but it works whatever it is. It’s Keely who does the talking.
‘We confirmed with the Border Agency that Selena Burridge travelled to Greece the same week that you and Emma were in Cirali. It looks like she travelled by ferry to Antalya and hired a car there. The name on the forwarded car hire list is a simple misspelling, Burdge with a missing ‘i’ and one ‘r’ instead of two. You were right, Cameron. Human error. No one to blame for that.’
‘What about the name badge?’ I ask.
‘Burridge was an ex-bank employee in Haldane’s hometown and they became lovers.’
‘Why would anyone want to be with that creep?’ Rachel asks.
Keely shrugs. ‘Why do men on death row get offers of marriage?’
Rachel shakes her head.
‘According to Haldane, Burridge became obsessed with obtaining revenge on his behalf. She, encouraged I am certain by Haldane, blamed Emma for ruining his stellar career.’
‘Stellar according to Haldane,’ Rachel says with derision.
‘He thinks he is the best surgeon in the country,’ Keely agrees. ‘Possibly the world. I kid you not. The forensic psych says it’s classic aggrandisement.’
When no one speaks, she carries on. ‘Since we played him the recording of what happened on that balcony, he’s been more than happy to furnish details of what Burridge did and how she did it, keeping himself out of the frame, of course. According to him he pleaded with her not to do anything.’
Stamford snorts. ‘This bloke is a real lizard.’
‘Indeed,’ Keely agrees. ‘Burridge got to Cirali and observed Cameron and Emma for a few days, watched their routine. The plan was to contact Emma, maybe sneak into the hotel as a maid, falsify some connection through being related to one of Emma’s GP patients, and claim that she was being held in Turkey by a man she had an affair and a child with but was desperately trying to get away from. She claimed her baby was sick, and she was terrified of taking it to a doctor or a hospital for fear of losing contact. She asked Emma for help, and not to tell anyone.’
‘Emma would never say no to something like that,’ Rachel says.
‘Looks like that’s what happened. And so Burridge arranged a meeting away from prying eyes.’
‘On the beach?’ Stamford fills in the unspoken detail.
‘My guess is that she told Emma she’d hidden the child. Perhaps told her that night that the child was much worse. Something to make Emma react quickly.’
‘And you say she was a maid?’ I ask. Everyone looks at me.
‘Pretending to be, yes.’ Keely confirms it.
This isn’t the time to bring up my fugue, so I let it hang and wait for Keely to continue.
‘Haldane said that Burridge met Emma at the deserted north end of the beach to take her to the child. Once on the cliff path Emma tried to text you. That’s when Burridge attacked her with a club she’d hidden. A club made out of rocks wired to a handle. Caveman style.’
‘Why a club? Why not just a rock?’ Rachel asks.
‘Burridge wasn’t big. Much more leverage and power with a club. And the blow would leave rock fragments in the wound. Be more consistent with a fall. I suspect it was Haldane’s idea judging by how much he enjoyed explaining to us how she’d constructed it.’
Rachel grimaces.
‘Then she pushed Emma’s body off the cliff and onto the rocks below. She may or may not have been alive at that stage,’ adds Keely.
Rachel’s head sinks in a slow shake.
‘Your arrival was a surprise,’ continues Keely. ‘Or so Haldane said. Burridge met you on the beach as she was returning, claimed to have seen Emma fall off the jetty. She struck you from behind as you were desperately searching, only this time lights from some boats anchored just offshore disturbed her. You fell off. Only a dozen feet or so. If you’d hit the water you’d have been fine, but you went head first into a stanchion and the rocks it was anchored to. Only then did you enter the sea where she left you to drown.’
‘But I didn’t.’
‘No. And so, according to Haldane, Burridge became obsessed with finishing the job. Only this time it would be through your own actions. According to Haldane, she dreamed up all the gaslighting tactics. She watched y
ou. Waited for the right moment to approach and inveigle herself into your life. The arrival of Covid-19 was an added bonus. Isolating you from the people who might have seen the warning signals. Burridge posted the excrement through Harriet’s door. Burridge set up the “Roxy” Roxburgh website. All to make it appear to someone looking in from outside that it was you.’
‘What about the gasman quote?’ It’s bugging me.
Keely tilts her head. ‘Hmm. We’ll never know. But my intuition tells me it was at Haldane’s suggestion even if he did not do it himself. His ego would not have been able to resist playing head games with you and the minions of the world in general. That’s another quote from him by the way.’
‘But surely he can’t keep pretending he’s innocent?’ Rachel argues.
‘Haldane claims he had no idea she would try to kill you in the penthouse. He says she’d arranged it all as a surprise for him, told him to play along and pretend to be a therapist.’ Keely sounds almost sanguine.
‘And he expects us to believe any of that?’
‘His story will change as we present more evidence. He genuinely thinks he’s cleverer than us. And by us, I mean the rest of the world.’ She offers us a mirthless smile. ‘Us minions.’
‘But he stabbed Harriet.’ My voice sounds shrill in Stamford’s little office.
‘He did. And he’s claiming she had the knife, and it was self-defence. Even though the knife is part of a set from the kitchen.’
‘My God,’ Rachel says.
‘He also claims that Burridge, masquerading as Nicole, modified your medications in your own flat. Changing dosages, etcetera.’
‘I had been feeling a little odd,’ I say. ‘I assumed it was me forgetting my meds or doubling up occasionally.’
‘Oh, Cam,’ says Rachel. But she’s not criticising. Just being my big sister.
Keely shrugs. ‘It is difficult to comprehend how anyone in the face of all this evidence could still try to maintain his innocence, I know. But Haldane is a true psychopathic narcissist. He thinks he is Einstein and we are all cretins.’ Her eyes drift away from the camera to the keyboard while she speaks. ‘There is a part of the interview I wanted to show you. He spoke for hours. Lecturing us. But there is one part you ought to see.’