Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Freya Sloan had wasted many break times, lunch times, and days off in pursuit of Jennifer Ripley.
She never seemed to be able to find her when she was on her own.
The obvious solution was to make an appointment at Inglethorpe and Bryce, but that would leave an official paper trail and that was the last thing Freya wanted.
In the days since Anthony Winstanley’s arrest, Freya had kept an eye on the case.
DI Bishop was very guarded after he had caught Freya in the CID incident room.
She had lied and said she wanted a word with one of the DCs, but as he wasn’t in the room, there was no reason for Freya to be hanging around.
Since then, he’d kept a close watch on her.
The only way Freya could find out the latest in the Alice Patterson case was either by earwigging in the canteen or by reading the tabloids.
From them, she’d gleaned that Jennifer Ripley was Anthony’s solicitor, the case was going to full trial before a jury and that, according to a press release issued by Inglethorpe and Bryce, they believed the investigation was highly flawed, that their client was innocent of all charges and were hopeful of an acquittal.
If Freya had been a regular member of the public reading these stories over her cornflakes, she would have believed them and thought Anthony Winstanley was a monster.
However, she had inside knowledge of the depths DI Bishop and his team were prepared to sink to in order to secure an arrest and confession.
The guilt of the suspect didn’t seem to matter.
Freya knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew that, if caught, she could very well lose her job. She was willing to pay that price if it meant an innocent man was set free.
She watched as Jennifer and who she presumed to be her husband left the house on Upgang Lane at the same time.
It was a bitterly cold morning, and a low mist was hanging over Whitby.
Freya sunk in the driver’s seat of her Fiesta, though she didn’t need to as Jennifer had no idea who she was.
The Ripleys chatted for a while on the driveway.
They were smiling and animated. Jennifer gave her husband a kiss and watched as he climbed behind the wheel of his Sierra, reversed out of the drive and turned left towards town.
Jennifer went in the opposite direction in her Volvo and Freya followed.
Freya assumed Jennifer was on her way to the office. Her only opportunity to catch her would be when she was pulling into her parking space, which would give Freya a window of less than a minute to confront Jennifer and tell her what she knew.
It was a fifteen-minute journey to the offices of Inglethorpe and Bryce. Jennifer parked in her usual space and Freya simply pulled up where she could. She was out of the car before Jennifer had even taken off her seat belt. She couldn’t waste this chance.
‘Mrs Ripley?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry to approach you like this,’ Freya said, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of a woman in a designer suit, perfectly styled hair and a hint of a subtle perfume.
Today was Freya’s day off so she was wearing jeans and a jumper with a cagoule over the top.
Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she only ever wore make-up and perfume on the rare occasion she had a night out.
‘I was wondering if I could have a talk with you. In private.’
‘Are you in need of a solicitor?’ Jennifer asked, looking her up and down.
‘No. It’s nothing like that. I’m…’ Freya looked away.
She swallowed her fear. ‘I’m a policewoman with North East Police.
I have some information for you. It’s about Anthony Winstanley.
I’ve read in the paper you’re his solicitor.
The thing is, what I need to tell you needs to be in private. Nobody can know I’ve been to see you.’
‘I see.’ Jennifer looked about her. ‘I’m guessing you don’t want to come into the office, then.’
‘No.’
Jennifer glanced at her watch. ‘It’s a little too early for the pubs to be open. There’s a tearoom on the front called Margaret’s. Do you want to go there?’
Freya thought for a moment. She knew the place and didn’t think it was the kind of establishment burly detectives and uniformed officers would go to. She couldn’t picture DI Bishop drinking out of a china cup and saucer.
‘Yes. That sounds perfect.’
‘OK. Well, let me pop into the office and I’ll meet you there in about half an hour.’
‘Thank you,’ Freya said, heading quickly back to her car.
Margaret’s tearoom was a five-minute drive away.
Freya went straight there, ordered a pot of tea and a toasted teacake and found a quiet table in the furthest corner from the entrance so she wouldn’t be seen by passers-by.
She doubted there would be many people out and about this morning.
The mist had turned into a thick fog and a fine drizzle was falling.
The only people she saw from the car to the tearoom were a few hardy joggers and the habitual dog walkers.
She was pretty sure nobody she knew would see her having a chat with a solicitor.
A couple of elderly people were at random tables in the café and the Margaret of the establishment was a woman in her mid-seventies behind the counter, layered in make-up and hard of hearing.
Freya doubted anyone in the café would overhear her conversation with Jennifer, even though they did know her order as she had shouted it to Margaret three times before she was understood.
A few minutes after Freya sat down, the door opened, and Jennifer breezed in. She went to the counter and ordered a black coffee.
‘I love this café,’ Jennifer said, sitting down with her cup. ‘It’s so quaint. And when the weather is fine, you can see right out to sea.’ She took a sip of her coffee and smiled at Freya.
Freya released a heavy breath. ‘I shouldn’t be talking to you.’
‘So, why are you?’
‘Because I didn’t join the police force for the wrong person to be convicted of murder.’
‘You think Anthony Winstanley is innocent?’
‘I don’t know about that, but I know the interview process was all wrong, and bordering on illegal.’
‘Illegal?’
Freya leaned forward and lowered her voice.
‘I’m not working on the case, so I don’t know all the ins and outs.
I was with Alice’s parents on the night she went missing.
I stayed with them all night and most of the following day.
DI Bishop is in charge of the investigation and – well, you know the amount of press attention that’s surrounded this – he’s been under a lot of pressure to solve it.
As soon as they found out about Anthony, they made him fit the bill for the man they were looking for.
The second they brought him into the station they ganged up on him. ’
‘In what way?’
‘Anthony’s … well, he’s a bit … what’s the word?’ Freya struggled.
‘Simple?’
‘I was trying not to say that.’
‘Let’s use it for now until we can think of a better one.’
‘I don’t think he realised how serious this all was.
After hours of questioning, he wanted to go home.
He’d missed dinner so he was hungry. The detectives interviewing him promised him everything so he would confess.
They said they’d get him a big meal from the canteen, that he could see his mum if he would just admit he killed Alice. ’
‘And that’s how they got his confession?’
Freya looked down into her mug, then back up. ‘I don’t have proof, but I think they might have hit him.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘DI Bishop has done it before. He’s been warned many times about it.
He’s got a good clear-up rate for a reason.
He’s a bully and he’s not averse to using his fists to get a confession.
I’ve been earwigging around the station.
I daren’t ask too many questions, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Bishop had lost his temper with Anthony and lashed out. ’
‘Bloody hell,’ Jennier said, looking shocked. ‘Can you get confirmation?’
‘No. I’ve tried. Bishop has cottoned on to me going into his CID room for no reason. He runs that place with an iron fist.’
‘Can’t you—’
‘No,’ Freya interrupted. ‘Look, I’m taking a huge risk just being here talking to you.’
‘I understand,’ Jennifer said, offering a placating smile. ‘Is there anything else?’
Freya took a deep breath. She wiped away a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
‘There’s a witness,’ she began, quietly.
‘She’s a prostitute and said Anthony watched her while she was with her clients.
She said, on the night of the murder, he was watching them, but he seemed different. He had a dangerous look about him.’
‘In what way dangerous?’ Jennifer asked with a heavy frown.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen the statement myself.
I’m just going on what I’ve been told. The thing is…
’ Freya paused. She looked uncomfortable.
She knew she was going too far simply by being here.
She took a deep breath. ‘I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. There’s someone I know in CID, we’re close.
He’s of the same mind as me. I’m not telling you his name, so don’t ask.
He’d get in even more trouble than I would.
He’s overheard that Bishop paid this woman to make a statement.
Apparently, she wasn’t even out on the night of the murder, because of the storm. ’
‘Do you have the name of this woman?’
‘No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t know even half of what I do know.’
Jennifer thought for a moment. ‘Were there any other suspects in the frame before DI Bishop arrested Anthony?’
‘No.’
‘No other person of interest?’
‘No.’
‘In cases like this, it’s usually someone close to the victim, a family member. You said you spent time with Alice’s parents. What about the father … what’s he called?’