Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Freya Sloan had been offered a cup of tea by the library staff which she accepted.
The wind was bitterly cold outside, and the police uniform wasn’t designed to keep her warm.
She stood to one side of the counter while the staff continued checking in and out books, chatting to the customers.
It looked like a nice job to Freya. It was friendly and polite.
There was a real convivial atmosphere to the place.
‘How long has Anthony worked here?’ Freya asked.
‘Ooh, let me think,’ Jane Wilkinson said, looking up as if the answer was written on the ceiling tiles.
‘About five years, give or take. It was me who got him the job. I’ve known his mother for years.
He didn’t do too well at school. He’s not what you’d call academic, but he couldn’t spend his life at home.
He started here part-time at first, just basic stuff, putting the books back on the shelves, making sure everything was neat and tidy, but he loved it.
He enjoyed chatting with the customers and he got on with the staff.
When a full-time position came up, I was happy to offer it him. ’ She smiled at the memory.
‘Have there been any problems?’
‘No. None at all.’
‘He’s happy here?’
‘Absolutely. He’s not much of a reader. Well, not of books, anyway. He loves his comics, but he’s always interested when people talk about their favourite books. And he helps when we have events. I genuinely believe he’s at his happiest at work.’
‘It isn’t normal, though, is it?’ Carol said as she came to the desk, carrying a stack of hardbacks.
She placed them onto the counter with a heavy thud.
‘He’s twenty-eight years old, never had a girlfriend as far as we can tell, lives at home with his mother and spends his days in a dusty old library with five or six middle-aged women. ’
‘Speak for yourself, Carol,’ Jane said. ‘Besides, who’s to say what’s normal? I don’t pass judgement on your Brian and his trainspotting. And look at the woman your Phil’s going out with? She’s old enough to be his mother.’
‘She’s sixteen years older than him.’
‘Still old enough to be his mother. Don’t go casting aspersions on people when your own life is open to ridicule.’
Carol, face like thunder, quickly turned away and stormed down the aisle of the history section.
‘I like Carol, don’t get me wrong. She’s never had a sick day in the four years she’s worked here, but my goodness, she’s a gossip and a half.’
‘I like Anthony,’ Laura said, coming out of the back room.
She offered Freya an open packet of Bath Oliver, but she politely waved them away.
‘He might not fit in with what we expect people who work in a library to look like, but that doesn’t matter.
He’s a good worker. He makes a wonderful cup of tea, and he wouldn’t say boo to a goose.
I think it’s rotten the way your lot have treated him over this Alice business. ’
‘Not my lot, thank goodness,’ Freya said. ‘Different department. I’m just trying to find out a bit more about Anthony’s background. What he’s like as a person.’
‘He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s good-natured, and he’s good to his mother,’ Laura said. ‘That’s all you need to know. Am I all right to pop to the shop for some teabags, Jane?’
‘Course you are, love. Bring a receipt back for the petty cash.’ Jane watched her grab her coat and leave the library. ‘She likes Anthony. We all do.’
‘That’s good.’ Freya drained the last of her tea and placed the cup down on the counter.
‘He didn’t do it,’ Jane said. ‘I’ve no proof, obviously. During the storm I was at home with my Malcolm trying to explain to the dog why I couldn’t take him out for his evening walk. But, hand on heart, I know he didn’t kill Alice Patterson.’
‘Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.’ Freya made her way to the exit, putting her hat on as she went.
‘You didn’t tell her about the children’s club,’ Carol said, sneaking up behind her.
‘It’s irrelevant and was blown up out of all proportion.’
‘No smoke without fire, though.’
Freya left the library and walked back to Crescent Avenue where she’d left her car.
She didn’t have evidence of Anthony’s guilt or innocence, but she had testimony by the people who knew him the most, who, apart from his mother, were the people who worked with him.
If DI Bishop and his team came out here and spoke to his colleagues, they would describe a gentle and kind man beneath the larger-than-life frame.
And in the absence of proof, character witnesses may be the only thing that would save Anthony.
She drove the Fiesta back to the station and could hear the commotion inside from the car park. She opened the door to find a woman screaming and crying. Her face was red with rage. A man was struggling to calm her down.
‘What’s going on?’ Freya asked the officer at the front desk.
‘That’s Pauline Winstanley. DI Bishop has just charged her son with Alice Patterson’s murder. As you can see, she’s not taking it very well.’
‘They’ve charged him?’ Freya asked, incredulously.
‘They had to. He admitted it.’
‘What?’
Freya opened the door to the main part of the station and stormed down the corridor to the CID incident room. She was halfway down when her name was called. She turned and saw DC Chris Tyler coming out of the toilets.
‘Chris, please tell me it’s wrong,’ she said, a hopeful look on her face.
He shook his head. He looked physically ill. ‘Freya, it was a mess, a complete car crash. I had to leave the interview room. Bishop was promising him all sorts to get him to admit to killing Alice.’
‘What happened?’
Chris pulled Freya into an empty side room and closed the door behind them, so they’d have a modicum of privacy.
‘At first, Bishop was telling him, if he admitted it, he’d let him go to the toilet and have something to eat, but Anthony wasn’t having any of it.
He was adamant he didn’t kill Alice. The thing is, Anthony’s mother’s been in reception for hours and Bishop used that against him.
He said that, if he said he killed Alice, he’d let him see his mum and they could all have a nice cup of tea.
You should have seen Anthony’s face, Freya.
He honestly thought he’d be able to go home if he admitted it. ’
‘So, what did Anthony say?’
‘Bishop was putting all kinds of words into his mouth. He kept saying things like, you were turned on after watching the prostitutes have sex and saw Alice in the woods sheltering from the storm and you took advantage. Anthony just went along with everything Bishop said. Osborne’s taking it all down word for word then Anthony signs it. ’
‘Couldn’t you have stopped them?’
‘You are joking! I’m a DC. I’ve only been here a few months. There was nothing I could do.’
Freya was about to ask another question when the sound of screaming from out in the corridor stopped her. She opened the door and they both stepped out to see what was happening.
At the far end of the corridor, Anthony Winstanley was being manhandled by four uniformed officers. Anthony was screaming and crying.
‘You promised me I could see my mum! You said you’d let me see my mum!’ he screamed.
Anthony slammed his feet on the floor, refusing to move. A police officer grabbed each of his arms and began to drag him along the floor. He was dead weight, and he was kicking out.
‘I want my mum. You promised me! You promised me I’d be able to see her when I signed.’
‘Jesus Christ, look at that. He’s fucking pissed himself,’ one of the officers said. The other three laughed.
‘I can’t watch this,’ Freya said, turning away.
‘They wouldn’t let him go to the toilet,’ Chris added.
‘This is wrong. This is completely wrong.’
‘You promised me a cup of tea and said I’d be able to see my mum!’ Anthony screamed. ‘Where are you taking me? I want to go home. You said I could go home.’
Freya closed her eyes tight and leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her face. Chris went over to her and put his arm around her.
‘I can’t say one hundred per cent that he didn’t do it. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But from talking to his colleagues, and in my own heart, I feel he’s innocent, Chris,’ she said.
‘If it’s any consolation, I think he’s innocent, too.’
‘We can’t let Bishop get away with this. What he’s doing to that man is wrong.’
Further up the corridor, DI Bishop stepped out of the CID suite with DS Osborne and DC Ritter in tow.
‘Sir. DI Bishop, can I have a word?’ Freya asked, running up to him.
‘What is it?’
‘Sir, I … I think you might have arrested the wrong man. I really don’t think Anthony Winstanley killed Alice Patterson.’
‘Oh. What makes you say that? Women’s intuition?’ Bishop smiled and looked to Osborne who laughed.
‘No, sir. I’ve been speaking to his colleagues at the library, and they all say he’s a good man, that he’d never hurt anyone.’
‘That’s very admirable of them, but it doesn’t trump a signed statement from the accused himself, admitting to raping and killing Alice Patterson.’
Freya composed herself. ‘With all due respect, sir, that statement wasn’t taken under normal circumstances.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, ice running through his tone. He walked up to her until they were almost nose to nose. ‘Are you questioning my methods of detection, WPC?’ he asked, overemphasising her rank.
‘No, sir, I’m not. I just think—’
‘Let me tell you what I think,’ he interrupted.
‘I think you need to remember your rank and who you’re talking to.
I am a detective inspector. You are a WPC.
You’re not paid to think. You’re paid to knock on doors and reassure little old ladies it’s safe to sleep in their beds at night.
If you want to get on in this station, I suggest you go back to doing what you do best, making mugs of tea and taking statements from people who’ve reported their dog missing. Do I make myself clear, WPC?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, looking down at her feet.
‘Now, I’m aware emotions are running high at the moment. This has been a very distressing case, so we’ll say no more about it. But I suggest you go home, think about your place in this station, and come back tomorrow knowing your role and doing it to the best of your ability. Understood?’
‘Sir,’ she said.
Bishop walked away with Osborne and Ritter following.
Freya remained where she was. She turned to look at Chris Tyler. ‘I could have handled that better, couldn’t I?’
‘Just a bit.’
‘What do we do now?’
‘We?’
‘You don’t think Anthony’s guilty any more than I do. We can’t just let him go to prison on the basis of a corrupt interview.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he urged. ‘Don’t let anyone hear you say corrupt around here.
Look, Freya, I’m as pissed off about this as you are, but there really isn’t anything we can do right now.
Let’s just hope Anthony gets himself a good solicitor who can tear through that statement and show a jury that there really is no evidence against Anthony Winstanley. ’
‘And what if he can’t?’
‘Let’s not think about that right now. Come on, let me take you for a drink.’