by Tim Sullivan
'Alice could call ahead and ask her if it's okay.'
Debbie arrived an hour and a half later. Helena was with her. Helena's son was dead, her grandchild miscarried, and yet her maternal instinct still prevailed. Whenever Cross came across this with mothers and children in his work, it inevitably made his think about his own mother, and whether somehow she had been lacking in this. He'd read about some women not having a maternal fibre in their bodies. Was his mother like that? He'd actually found himself thinking about it a lot more recently, and had asked his father about it. Raymond was baffled that he should be asking. So he had left it alone. But he was becoming more and more aware that it had become a niggle which needed soothing. He admired Helena's being with Debbie. He thought to himself that maybe, through all this tragedy, Debbie had found a family that would care for her.
They decided to meet with them in the small kitchen area, where they made coffee and tea. There was a vending machine selling snacks to one side. They gave the two women coffee. Cross then got up and went over to the vending machine, found change and bought them each a small packet of shortbreads. Helena smiled at the small kindness.
'DS Ottey?' Cross said. He always deferred to her when sensitive information needed imparting to grieving families. In this instance, a grieving family, of which the parents of one member might well be involved in the commission of the crime. No matter how hard he tried, his explanation of the situation always came over as cold and insensitive, which was, more often than not, counter-productive.
'We have both your mother and stepfather in custody.' Ottey let that sink in for a moment.
'Was this because of what happened at the restaurant?' said Debbie, turning to Helena. 'I thought we weren't pressing charges.'
'We aren't,’ Helena replied, understanding in that moment the implications of what was going on.
'Your stepfather has been arrested on suspicion of murdering Alex Paphides. Your mother is in custody for perverting the course of justice, but it is possible she might well be an accessory to murder.'
'What?' said Debbie. It might well have occurred to her, when she told them where she thought Alex was going on the night of his death, that they may be involved. But she hadn't thought it through – considered it as a real possibility. Helena just looked at the floor. Cross wondered what was going through her mind, at that moment. He wondered whether she had approved of Alex having a relationship with a girl half his age. If she hadn't approved, or had doubts, what must she be thinking now?
'DS Cross has some questions he'd like to ask, if that's okay.'
'Sure,' Debbie replied.
'Tell me about your stepfather, Andy,' Cross began.
'What about him?'
'How long has he been with your mother?'
'As long as I remember.'
'And you were four when your father left? Is that correct?' Cross was reading the questions off a sheet of paper, and was ticking off each question as she answered them.
'Yep.'
'I don't suppose you can remember a lot about it, can you? Being so young.'
'Not really. Just bits.'
'Which bits, exactly?' he asked.
'Mum was really angry. I remember them burning Dad's clothes in the garden. The smell. They used petrol,’ she said. Cross made a note then looked up.
'So, Andy was already around?' he said.
'How do you mean?' Debbie asked.
'When your dad left. Andy was already in the picture. With your mum. Is that why your dad left?'
'What are you talking about?' Debbie asked.
'Did your father leave because your mother was having an affair with Andy?'
'No, he would never have done that. They didn't get together till after he'd gone.'
'But he was there?'
'Well of course he was. What are you on about?'
'Why do you say "of course"? I don't understand,' Cross said.
'Because he's my uncle,' she said. Cross didn't react at all, just wrote it down.
'He's your dad's brother?' he asked.
'Well he's obviously not my mum's, is he? Yes. I thought you guys knew,' said Debbie.
'No, no, not at all. We didn't know.' He was thinking this through. This had to mean something; he just didn't know what it was. Ottey took this as her cue to take the conversation up.
'Do you get on? You and your stepdad?' she asked.
‘What was his name? Your dad?’ said Cross, interrupting.
‘Robbie. Robbie Swinton,’ she replied.
‘So your stepdad,’ said Ottey, continuing. ‘You get on?’
'Pretty much. We've had our moments. But he's been good to me. He's the only one who can deal with my mum,' Debbie said.
'How do you mean?'
'He's very calm. Takes whatever shit she throws at him.' Cross looked up at this point, which encouraged her to go on, explain.
'She has problems. Well, you can see that. It's pretty obvious, even though she won't admit it. Mental problems. I think it's probably why my dad left.'
'Okay,' said Ottey, encouraging her to continue.
'And she drinks. She drinks, they argue. She's sorry when she's sober. Doesn't drink for weeks, then makes up for it big time. I can't work out why he stays with her sometimes. It's even worse when he drinks with her and he then loses it. They have big rows and I have to sit upstairs and listen to it. If I try and stop it, I get crap from both of them. So I stopped trying. That's why I left.' Ottey looked at Cross who, she knew, had wanted to lead this interview – he still hadn't shared with her why they'd actually asked Debbie to come in. But he showed no inclination of wanting to ask anything. His look, though, also told her that he didn't want anyone asking anything. He wanted Debbie to go on, in her own time, and talk about whatever was on her mind.
'He's no angel, though. Got a terrible temper. You don't see it very often, but when you do, bloody hell. Like I said, when he's had a skinful as well, the rows are terrible. That sounded bad. It wasn't meant to. But, actually, it is what it is. I'm not worried about getting either of them in trouble.'
'Why do you say that?' asked Cross.
'Well, if you've arrested them... well, you must have your reasons, and if they've done it, I'm not going to protect them. Alex is dead and we…' she looked at Helena, 'want to know who did it. Doesn't matter who it is.'
'So do we, Debbie,' said Ottey.
Cross suddenly got up and turned to the door, about to leave. 'George?' said Ottey. She wasn't asking him where he was going, or what he was doing, just reminding him of something she'd been trying to improve. His social awareness. He stopped and turned round. Ottey looked from him to Debbie.
'Oh yes,' he said. 'Goodbye Debbie, and thank you so much for coming in. I appreciate it very much.' He then turned and left. Ottey thought it sounded like he was reciting from a script. But baby steps.
Chapter 27
It was Wednesday night, so Cross was due to have dinner with his father on this, their new regular night. He was happy to leave the Swintons in their separate cells overnight. Sometimes, depending entirely on the situation of a case, and the personalities involved, he might go through the night questioning suspects. But he thought that wasn't needed here. But also, even he knew that, had he cancelled his father because of work that night, after the recent problems – his, admittedly – his cancelling would have caused mild uproar. Not with his father, who was always indulgent with his son, but with his partner at work, Ottey. She wouldn't have let it go. She would have got as much mileage out of it as possible, which was to be avoided at all costs. So he'd made a point of telling her where he was going when he left work. She hadn't questioned whether they should leave the Swintons alone, but as he left, he turned and spoke to Mackenzie in a highly unconvincing way that left her completely puzzled and made Ottey grin from ear to ear.
'I'm having dinner with my father tonight. It's Wednesday, I know. But we've changed our regular night to accommodate his new commitment at Aerospace Bristo
l. Normally I would advocate questioning the Swintons a little further into the night, but I wouldn't want to let my father down. He relies on seeing me regularly for supper.' Then he left. Mission accomplished. Mackenzie turned to Ottey, who then provided a detailed explanation, which Mackenzie actually found quite endearing.
Xiao Bao, at the Chinese takeaway, was also thrown by Cross' arrival for his usual order. He even checked his watch to make sure he hadn't lost a day that week.
'It's Wednesday,' said Xiao Bao as he gave Cross his order.
'Yes,' said Cross, without offering any explanation, and left.
Raymond and he ate in silence, as usual, not even with a recorded Mastermind playing on the TV. Cross knew this was because his father was preoccupied with his talk the next evening, and was going over it again and again in his mind. Cross was happy with this, but after he'd cleared up he had a question for his father.
'When your wife left you, how did you feel?' he asked.
'Your mother, you mean?'
'Have you had more than one wife?'
'No, but what do you mean exactly?'
'When she left, how did you feel?'
Raymond thought for a moment. 'Wretched. Miserable. Betrayed.'
'Angry?' Cross asked.
'Of course,' Raymond replied.
'How angry?' Cross asked.
'How do you judge such a thing? I was angry, upset. She was walking out on us. More importantly, abandoning you.'
'Why did she leave?'
'Because she felt it wasn't working. She didn't love me any more,' he said.
'Did she not love me any more?'
'What? Of course she did. You were her son,' Raymond said.
'Then why have I neither seen nor heard from her since?'
'She thought a clean break would be best all round, I seem to remember.'
'"Seem to remember" doesn’t sound very convincing, and why wasn't I asked?'
'You were four,' said Raymond.
'A very advanced four. Was there someone else?' Cross asked. Raymond seemed to think about this for a second.
'Why are you suddenly asking? Is it something to do with work?' Raymond asked.
'It is, yes.' Cross saw that his father immediately relaxed, which interested him. He made a mental note of it.
'There wasn't anyone else. I often think it might've been easier if there had been.'
'Why?' Cross asked.
'Because, at least that way, she would've been actually leaving me for someone. For something different. For an alternative she thought would be better. Here there was no alternative. Having nothing was better than having me. That hurt.' This sounded convincing in part, but there was something about it that didn’t ring true for Cross. He decided to leave it for another time and continue with his line of thought.
'Did she take everything with her when she left?' he asked.
'No, she left stuff. Books, cooking stuff, some clothes.'
'What did you do with it all?'
'Nothing,' Raymond answered. 'I just left it where it was.'
'You didn't burn her clothes?'
'What? No. Of course not. Why would I do that?'
'Anger. Revenge. I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking.'
'What would be the point of that? What would that achieve? She wasn't coming back, so what would the purpose of that be?'
Cross thought for a moment.
'That is a really good question,’ he said, as he left. This was what had bothered him in the meeting with Debbie. The image of Andy and Jean burning her husband's clothes in the garden had troubled him. It would have been different had Jean done it on her own. Wouldn't Andy have said something? She was burning his brother's clothes. Wouldn't he have stopped her, in case he came back for them? Unless, of course, they both knew there was no chance of that ever happening.
'Are you feeling better today, Mr Swinton?' Ottey asked.
'I am. Thanks again for the Ventolin,' he replied.
'You're welcome.'
Andy looked like people often did after a night in the holding cell. Most of them wouldn't have slept very well, naturally. But also Cross felt that for many of them, when they woke up in the morning – if they were guilty of whatever they were being held for – it might have crossed their minds that they were likely to wake up incarcerated like this for some time. It had a sobering – sometimes literally – effect on them. Cross went through his ritual with his folders then looked up.
'How did you find out about your stepdaughter's pregnancy, Mr Swinton?' he asked.
'No comment.'
'But you were aware of her pregnancy?' Cross continued.
'No comment.'
'Well, you were, as you have both told us. So how did you find out?'
'No comment.'
'You see what this looks like, right?' said Ottey. 'It just makes you look like you're frightened of us knowing how you found out. But the fact of the matter is, we've established there was no phone call to tell you about the pregnancy, and yet you knew.' Andy didn't flicker. They'd actually started with Jean that morning, who was quite jittery and bad-tempered. It was quite possible she was entering alcohol withdrawal, Cross thought. She had also, on the advice of her lawyer, gone into the "no comment" phase of her interview. For her it was a relief, as she didn't have to think about anything. She just mumbled it automatically, as soon as the person opposite had stopped talking. At one point, she'd even said it in response to being asked if she would like some water. Cross felt they probably had more chance of progressing the interview by talking to Andy first, then revealing to her what they had uncovered with him. Cross suspected that this would still make no difference, and she would maintain her mumbled "no comments".
'Were you aware that, on the night he was killed, only Alex himself and Debbie knew of the pregnancy?' asked Cross. The solicitor looked up from his notes at this point.
'No comment.'
'And, as we now know that Debbie didn't tell you, there is only one other possibility. Which is that Alex came round that night to tell you. Is that what happened?' Cross went on. The solicitor leant forward and whispered something to Andy. Andy looked back at the detectives.
'Alex told us.'
'When?'
Andy looked as if he wasn't sure what to do next.
'Could we have a brief conference?' asked the solicitor.
'Of course,' said Cross. 'It might help us in the long run, hopefully.'
Carson called them into his office. He wanted to wrap it up and charge, rather than get an extension.
'We're not even sure what we're charging her with right now. We're not sure what we're charging either of them with,' said Cross.
'George, come on. We have Alex's blood in the flat. Swinton dumping the bike. His van in the vicinity of the garage the night of the murder. A witness placing it at the garage. He damages the van, the van has corresponding damage, necessitating its repair, and now it turns out the garage Alex's body was dumped in was rented for years by Debbie Swinton's father's family. It's pretty conclusive.'
'Really?' Cross asked.
'You don't think so?' Carson said.
'I think he's referring to the new info on the garage,' said Ottey.
'Oh right. Yeah, Mackenzie just found out. They ran a repair business out of it, servicing cars, doing MOTs,' Carson said.
‘Why wasn't I told?' said Cross.
'I’m not sure but, like I said, conclusive,' said Carson.
'I'm not sure I'd go that far. We know Andy dumped the body, but do we have proof he actually killed Alex? It could be either of them,' said Cross.
'Forensics have matched the roll of plastic in Swinton's van to the plastic the body was in. I've called the CPS and they think we have more than enough to charge him for murder,' said Carson, looking at Cross who didn't respond.
'George?' Carson asked. Cross looked up, and then at the clock on the wall.
'We still have a couple of hours. We might as well use them,' he said.
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'Very well,' said Carson. He couldn't really argue with that, and he knew it was often, at this point in a case, that Cross was at his best.
Andy's solicitor read out a statement, confirming that Alex had called in at the house that night. He'd arrived just after eight. He'd wanted to tell them about the pregnancy, before he left for a training trip to Tenerife the next morning. He told them and then left shortly after. Jean and her solicitor corroborated this version of events.
'How did you feel about Debbie being pregnant?' Cross asked Andy, who was a little more confident and relaxed now. People often felt that when the police didn't immediately challenge their statement – which was often significantly different to the story they'd been propounding up until that point – that the police had, in some way, accepted their version of events. So the interview sometimes had a small window of good-naturedness, until the police produced the next piece of damning evidence.
'Like I said before…' Andy began, sighing.
'When you weren’t telling us the truth?' interjected Cross.
'…surprised, to be honest,' Andy continued, ignoring Cross. 'A little disappointed. She's so young. But he seemed like a nice bloke. It was what it was,' he said.
'And how was Alex about it?' Cross asked.
'He seemed genuinely happy. Like he was pleased about it. He told us he wanted to marry her.'
'Why aren't you and Jean married?'
'What?'
'You're not married, even though you call her your wife. Why do you do that?' Cross asked.
'We just never got round to it. We're just as, aren't we?'
'"Just as" what?' Cross asked.
'Just as well married,' Andy answered. 'I mean, it doesn't matter either way, does it?'
'Well, it clearly does matter. As I said, you refer to her as your wife and she calls herself Mrs Swinton. So why didn't you get married? I mean, it's not as if it's difficult,' Cross went on.
'What's this got to do with anything?' Andy asked.
'So Alex left your house shortly after he arrived, fit and well, and looking forward to his training trip to Tenerife?' said Cross, deliberately ignoring the question.
'Yes.’ Cross made a note of this.