by Ford, P. F.
‘I have no idea how it got there,’ he said, quietly.
‘Is that the best you can do?’ asked Norman.
‘It’s the truth. I can’t tell you any more than that, can I?’
‘I have to say, it’s not looking too good for you, is it?’
‘Why are you doing this to me?’ asked Rossiter.
‘Doing what?’
‘Setting me up.’
‘We’re just doing our job,’ said Norman. ‘We don’t need to set you up. The evidence is all pointing at you already.’
‘But I haven’t done anything. Why won’t you believe me?’ Rossiter’s voice was pleading.
‘Like DS Norman just explained,’ said Slater. ‘The evidence is all pointing your way.’
‘And if we believed everyone who claimed to be innocent, we’d never catch anyone,’ added Norman.
‘What can I do, Brian?’ asked Rossiter, turning to Humphreys. ‘They won’t listen to what I’m telling them.’
‘I think you should probably keep quiet and not answer any more questions,’ Humphreys said.
‘That’s not really gonna help him get out of here, is it?’ said Norman. ‘Because so far he hasn’t managed to explain anything satisfactorily.’
‘Do you ever use the Rochester & Dorset runabout vehicle, Mr Rossiter?’ asked Slater.
‘What?’
‘Small, white, Peugeot van,’ said Slater. ‘Company runabout. I understand you all use it.’
‘Well, yes, I’ve done a bit of shopping in it now and then,’ said Rossiter.
‘Have you ever used it to visit Diana Woods at her house?’
‘No, I don’t think I have,’ said Rossiter.
‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Norman. ‘Only we have a witness who claims to have seen someone matching your description visiting Diana in a small white van.’
‘Well she’s got the wrong man,’ said Rossiter.
‘She’s seen you at lunchtimes,’ explained Norman. ‘She knows your routine. Diana arrives in her car, and then you arrive in the van a couple of minutes later. You stay for an hour or so, you leave, then five minutes later she leaves. Does that sound about right?’
Rossiter’s mouth gaped open.
‘Looks as if it’s exactly right,’ remarked Slater.
‘I, err,’ muttered Rossiter.
‘If you’re not going to follow my advice and keep quiet,’ said Humphreys, quietly, ‘you should at least stop lying and tell the truth. That sounds about right to me.’
‘How the bloody hell would you know?’ snapped Rossiter, turning on Humphreys.
‘Everyone at Rochester’s knows. You and Diana might have thought you were being clever, but it was obvious to all of us what was going on. And then someone followed you, just to confirm it.’
‘You’re supposed to be my bloody solicitor advising me here,’ snarled Rossiter, ‘Not a bloody witness for the prosecution.’
‘I am advising you,’ said Humphreys, testily. ‘I advised you not to answer any more questions and you ignored me. As that’s the case, I’m now advising you to stop being evasive and to start telling the truth.’
Slater watched happily as Rossiter and Humphreys argued about the rights and wrongs of telling the truth. He looked at Norman and raised his eyebrows. Norman smiled back at him. This was going very well so far.
‘I hate to interrupt your little argument,’ said Norman, affably. ‘But you ought to know we have that company runabout in our garage downstairs. We have a forensic team going over it as we speak. If there’s anything to find, they will find it.’
Rossiter looked blankly at Norman.
‘Am I supposed to be concerned about that?’ he asked.
‘You tell me,’ replied Norman.
‘I can’t see why it should worry me,’ said Rossiter. ‘I admit I have used it on occasion to visit Diana, but the last time I used that van was weeks ago.’
‘Perhaps if I tell you we have a witness who saw that van driving away from Diana Woods’ house, around about the time of the murder, you might be a bit more concerned,’ said Slater.
‘If someone did see that van,’ said Rossiter, ‘it can’t have been me driving it. I was at home having my dinner.’
‘Except your wife says you weren’t,’ said Norman.
‘And I say she’s wrong. Let me talk to her. I’ll soon prove she’s thinking of another night when I was late.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to be possible,’ said Norman. ‘She says she doesn’t want to talk to you at the moment.’
‘But she’s my wife. Why wouldn’t she want to talk to me?’
‘Maybe she’s a bit concerned about what you’ve done.’
‘But I keep telling you. I haven’t done anything!’ Rossiter shouted the last sentence and banged his fist on the table to emphasise his point.
‘You have a bit of a temper there, Mr Rossiter,’ said Slater. ‘Is that what happened? Did you argue with Diana and lose your temper?’
‘I’ve told you I didn’t see Diana that day,’ he said, wearily. ‘How many more times do I have to tell you.’
‘We should be getting some forensic results through soon,’ said Norman. ‘Do you want to save us all some time, and tell us what happened?’
‘I have nothing to say,’ said Rossiter.
‘Hooray,’ said Humphreys, sarcastically. ‘You’ve finally decided to listen to me, although it’s probably too late now.’
‘Let me tell you what we think happened,’ said Slater. ‘We know you and Diana had a thing going. You were a couple of rabbits, going at it whenever you got the chance. On business trips, during your lunch breaks, and you even resorted to groping and touching each other up in the office.’
Rossiter actually looked embarrassed at the mention of the office groping.
‘Oh,’ said Norman. ‘Did you really think no one could see what you were up to? Someone described frequently seeing you slide your hand up her skirt when she was stood at your desk. Your behaviour was described as “gross”. I guess you were just checking to make sure she was wearing that expensive underwear you bought her. Like the feel of silk, do you?’
‘Then one day, just a few short months ago,’ Slater continued, ‘you pushed your luck a bit too far and Woody came home and caught you at it. This wasn’t the first time Diana had been cheating on him, and she figured he wouldn’t do anything even if he did find out, but she was wrong. This time he decided enough was enough. He packed his bags and walked out.’
‘But there was a problem for Diana,’ continued Norman. ‘She hadn’t realised just how much she needed him. Oh, she despised him for letting her screw around all the time, but at the same time he was always there for her. He was her rock. But once he was gone, she suddenly realised what she was missing. So she tried to win him back. She even begged him to come back, but he was resolute. This time there was no going back.’
‘This is sheer fantasy,’ said Rossiter. ‘I told you before she was glad to see the back of him.’
‘That’s right, you did,’ said Norman. ‘So how do you explain the letters he has from her, in her handwriting, telling him how much she was missing him, and asking him to come back?’
Rossiter obviously didn’t quite understand what he was hearing.
‘She didn’t tell you about that? You seem to have forgotten Diana was practised in the art of deception. She was an accomplished liar. Do you really think she would have told you the truth about her and Woody? Come on, get real. She played you like she played everyone else.’
‘So now Diana had a problem,’ said Slater, continuing with his theory. ‘She needed someone, and her someone had gone. We believe she then decided to make you her new someone. You were happy to have sex with her, so she figured it shouldn’t be too hard to convince you to ditch your wife and install her as your new wife.’
Rossiter smiled and shook his head.
‘More fantasy, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘That was never going to happen.’
‘Oh, we know that,’ said Slater. ‘You couldn’t afford to give your wife grounds for divorce. She told us she’d take you for every penny you have, and then she’d ruin you, if that happened. But Diana wasn’t prepared to accept that as your excuse, was she? She kept insisting, and in the end you decided you had to put a stop to it.’
‘Then you got a lucky break and returned from London just after everyone had gone home. You took the company van, and drove out to Diana’s house. Of course when she saw you at the door she was happy to let you in. You see, we know she let her attacker in. We also know she knew her attacker well enough to turn her back on him while she filled the kettle to make tea.’
Slater had stopped for breath, so Norman carried on.
‘And that’s when you saw your opportunity,’ said Norman. ‘You took a knife from her own knife block and stabbed her. Then you made your way back to Rochesters, parked the van back in the garage and went home. And that’s why you were late home that day.’
Rochester didn’t say a word. He just stared at Norman. It was as if he was in shock. Humphreys looked equally stunned, but he was now staring at Rossiter, with a look of horror at what he appeared to have done.
The silence was broken by a knock on the door.
Norman went across to the door and opened it. There was a whispered conversation and then he came back with a sheet of paper. He read it and then handed it to Slater who read it twice.
‘It seems you’re keeping our forensics team busy, Mr Rossiter,’ said Slater, looking up from his reading.
‘If you’ve found my fingerprints, that’s hardly cause for celebration, is it?’ said Rossiter. ‘I’ve already told you I’ve used the van so I would be more surprised if you haven’t found them. I expect you’ve also found another twenty or thirty prints besides mine. Are you going to ask the rest of the staff to provide fingerprint samples so they can be eliminated?’
He obviously thought he’d caught Slater out with this suggestion, and his natural superior smugness spread across his face once again.
‘Already in hand as we speak,’ said Norman, and the grin disappeared from Rossiter’s face. ‘You really do think we’re stupid, don’t you?’
‘We actually worked out that there might be hundreds of prints on a van everyone uses,’ said Slater. ‘But that’s not what I’m talking about. Someone’s left a packet of condoms in the van, with one missing. And there’s a receipt, too. They were bought the day before Diana died. Whoever had sex with her the day she died used a condom.’
‘Than perhaps it was another male member of staff,’ suggested Rossiter, slouching confidently back in his chair.
‘The receipt ties up with a transaction made with your credit card,’ said Norman. ‘Exactly the right amount, at exactly the right time, and in exactly the right place.’
‘And where am I supposed to have made this transaction?’ asked Rossiter sarcastically.
‘Local supermarket,’ said Norman.
Now Rossiter sat bolt upright.
‘This is getting ridiculous,’ he spluttered. ‘I haven’t been to a supermarket in years. My wife does all the shopping. And anyway, what on earth would I want to buy condoms for? I’ve had a bloody vasectomy!’
This was something Slater hadn’t considered.
‘You have?’ he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
‘Can you prove that?’ asked Norman.
‘I’m sure my doctor will confirm it,’ said Rossiter, with a chuckle. ‘Now that surprised you, didn’t it? But the ladies like it, you see. It removes the need for condoms, and so many of them hate the damned things.’
‘Not exactly a recipe for safe sex, is it?’ said Norman. ‘I hope you get yourself checked on a regular basis. Diana liked to share it around, you know.’
‘Yes, I did know,’ said Rossiter. ‘I do the same thing myself. Never miss an opportunity, that was our shared ethos.’
‘Oh, whoa,’ said Norman, pulling a horrified face. ‘That’s information I really don’t want to know.’
‘But it might prove to be highly relevant in this case, don’t you think?’ sneered Rossiter.
‘We don’t think the condom was used for protection against pregnancy or disease,’ continued Slater, ignoring the exchange between Norman and Rossiter. ‘We believe it was used to avoid leaving any DNA evidence. Having a vasectomy wouldn’t have been good enough to stop that.’
‘How many bloody times do I have to say it,’ spluttered Rossiter. ‘I did not have sex with Diana on that day. I didn’t even set eyes on her or speak to her. I was up in London at the time you say I was having sex with her, and I was at home when you say she was killed.’
Slater chose to ignore this latest denial and carry on with the forensic findings.
‘They’ve also found traces of blood under the driver’s seat,’ he announced.
Rossiter simply stared down at the table in front of him.
‘Where’s the blood from?’ Norman asked Rossiter. ‘Is it Diana’s? We’ll find out when we analyse it. I suppose you hid the murder weapon under there until you dumped it, right?’
‘I’m not saying another word. You seem to have made your minds up I killed Diana, even though it’s obvious I’m being set up by someone. I’ll save my breath for someone who wants to hear what I’m actually saying.’
Norman looked across at Slater, who nodded back to him.
‘Well,’ said Norman. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want to speak to us anymore I think we’re probably done here for now. I’m afraid you haven’t cleared up any of the discrepancies we mentioned at the start, and now it appears we’re finding more and more evidence pointing your way.
‘I think you probably need a few minutes with your solicitor, and then I’ll ask the PC outside to escort you back to your cell. Did the duty sergeant book you into the penthouse suite or the wedding suite?’
Rossiter didn’t answer Norman. He just continued to stare at the table.
Chapter 20
‘Have you found anything else yet, Becksy?’ asked Slater.
He’d come down to the workshops where Ian Becks and his team were going through the van. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d come down here and not gone straight back to the incident room, but there was a growing feeling of uncertainty that was quietly nibbling away inside his head.
‘I’ve found dozens of fingerprints,’ said Becks, gloomily. ‘There’s no way we’re going to be able to conclusively prove Rossiter drove the van to Diana’s that day. We’ve got soil samples from the wheel arches that I’m pretty sure will prove the van has been driven down Bishops Common, but it’s not going to prove when it was there, or who was driving it.’
‘He admits he’s taken it there in the past,’ said Slater. ‘But swears blind he didn’t use it the day she was murdered.’
‘And I don’t think we can prove he did,’ said Becks, gloomily.
‘What about the packet of condoms?’ asked Slater. ‘Are there any prints on that?’
‘Not even a partial. I’ve even tried the receipt and there’s nothing there either. This guy was very careful where he put his fingers. He must have been wearing gloves all the damned time.’
‘There has to be something,’ said Slater desperately. ‘At this rate we’re not going to be able to prove anything.’
‘We do have the blood under the seat. At least if it’s Diana’s blood it proves there’s a link between her death and this van.’
Becks’ phone bleeped quietly as he spoke. He snatched it from his pocket and listened intently to the caller.
‘You’re quite sure?’ he asked.
He looked at Slater as he ended the call.
‘Apparently there’s a partial print on the ignition keys that doesn’t match any of the prints we’ve taken from the staff at Rochester’s,’ he told Slater. ‘It also doesn’t match any of the prints we’ve taken from the inside of the van.’
‘So what does that prove, and what does it mean? And ho
w does it help? We need to prove Rossiter was in that van, not that someone, at some time, has been playing with the keys.’
‘D’you want a theory?’ asked Becks, with a glint in his eye.
‘Will I like it?’
‘I can’t guarantee it. Because I can’t promise it’s going to fit in with what you’re trying to prove.’
‘Oh, don’t say that,’ said Slater, sighing.
‘You’ve got doubts, though, haven’t you?’ asked Becks. ‘You wouldn’t be down here nagging me if you were sure, or if the guy had confessed.’
‘Let’s just say we’ve got two and two,’ said Slater, unhappily. ‘But I’m not convinced they actually add up to four.’
‘I could make it worse.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Go on, then.’
‘When we did the crime scene, we didn’t find any fingerprints,’ said Becks. ‘So we assumed the killer wore gloves. Now, we’re pretty sure this wasn’t a spur of the moment murder, right? We know the killer was quite careful, so it’s not unreasonable to assume they wore gloves when they were driving the van. But what if they were just a tiny bit careless when they took the keys, and didn’t put the gloves on until they were walking to the van?’
‘Are you suggesting the killer could be someone we don’t even have as a suspect,’ asked Slater. ‘That’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it?’
‘It’s just a theory. And I did say you probably wouldn’t like it.’
‘But how are we going to prove it?’ asked Slater.
‘We’re assuming it’s only staff who drive this van,’ said Becks. ‘But what if they allow someone else to drive it?’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask.’
‘I thought you’d got lost,’ said Norman, when Slater joined him in the canteen. ‘One minute you were following me, and then suddenly you were gone.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ said Slater. ‘I thought I’d go and see if Becksy had any real evidence yet.’
‘And?’
‘Zilch. He’s got hundreds of fingerprints all over the van, but there’s nothing to suggest Rossiter was driving it the day she died. All they’ve got is one partial print on the ignition key, and that doesn’t match Rossiter, or anyone else at Rochester’s.’