Chapter 41 Charged
Birch and Mattoo pull up in their white Ford Focus as I’m heading down the steps towards my car. I hope to make it past them, but they’re surprisingly quick to emerge from their seats and intercept me.
‘I’m in a real rush, I’m afraid, can’t it wait?’
‘We thought you’d want to know what we found out,’ says DS Birch, intentionally blocking my path.
‘I’ve enough on my plate, actually. My daughter needs a good reference for her next school, so I’m buying flowers for her head teacher.’
‘I think you might need to know what we’ve uncovered about Mr Mercer,’ says Birch, looking at me archly.
‘Well, go on, then, but please be quick,’ I say. ‘None of this slow insinuation you’ve learned from watching too much TV.’
‘It might be better if we went inside,’ Birch says rather pointedly. I give her the wide-eyed stare that I usually reserve for the children.
‘I see. Well, Mrs Rook, I’ll be direct. We’ve got one witness statement saying Jason Mercer was here on fifteenth November, near your house.’
‘He was probably walking along the street, which most people are permitted to do freely.’ I sidestep her and head to my car.
‘That’s not all we have,’ she shouts.
I wave my hand in the air and beep my car; it welcomes me with an elated flash of several lights.
‘He took photographs of you,’ she calls out. ‘Quite a few. All in different locations over a few weeks.’
I stop and turn. ‘So, not my lover, then?’
‘Why might Jason Mercer have been following you, Mrs Rook?’
‘You’ll need to ask him, but given his court case, he seems to enjoy sexually harassing women, so perhaps I was his next victim.’
‘Maybe, but to my eye, it looks like he was . . .’ She screws her face up and pretends to be thinking. I wait until the charade is over. ‘Investigating you.’
‘The plot thickens,’ says Mattoo with a nod.
‘Can you think of any reasons someone might have you investigated?’
‘My life is made up entirely of looking after my husband and children. They are of little interest to me, let alone anyone else. So I’ll be reassured when you’ve found him and locked him up with your other dodgy colleagues.’
‘Well, when we do find him, Mrs Rook, we’re sure to discover his particular interest in your life,’ says Birch, her mouth in a twisted smile.
I am about to say more but this will only prolong matters. ‘Thank you for your time, officers,’ I say, and head to my car, which I realize is still crawling with Jason Mercer’s DNA should they care to look.
After buying flowers, I drop them off at the school with a note to Mrs Nnadi that says, ‘A good reference is cheaper than a legal challenge.’ I quickly head over to Tor’s where we’ve all agreed to an emergency meeting to talk about Cait.
I feel the pang of jealousy whenever I arrive at her house.
You have to embrace jealousy if you want to aspire to anything.
I just pray that Stephen will work harder to make partner instead of hanging about his mum’s hospital bed like a punctured Oedipus complex.
Tor shows me into the thirty-foot living room, all muted blues and greys. Sophie and Aisha are already ensconced on the vast white sofa. There’s a photorealistic painting of a shark over the fireplace, and I can’t help staring at it, speechless.
‘Oh, that’s a gift from one of Law’s cash cows!’
‘And is such an image flattering or insulting for a politician?’
‘It’s from a lobbyist, so probably means he’s doing a good job, and it pays well in the long term. These companies don’t forget their political allies.’
I glance out of the window. There are now bricks on top of the concrete footings and several men looking industrious, which is reassuring. I’ve also booked my car in for an ‘Executive Sanitisation Valet’, which I hope will remove any last traces of Mr Mercer from the boot.
Tor sits us down and presides. ‘So, what do we know?’
‘I thought she’d be out yesterday, but I’ve heard nothing,’ I say.
‘The police have charged her,’ says Aisha, referring to a notepad on her knee. ‘She’s on her way to prison.’
We all stare in silence. I’m genuinely surprised. The inadequacy of the police has again outdone my expectations.
‘What does that mean, exactly?’ asks Sophie.
‘It means it’s serious,’ says Aisha. ‘And she could be in prison until her court case.’
‘Bloody hell, that could be months.’
‘Law’s lawyer friend, Dominic, is on the case,’ says Tor. ‘He thinks he can get her released on bail. There’s some hope, as she’s not been charged with murder. So there’s a bail hearing soon.’
‘I thought they arrested her for murder,’ says Aisha.
‘They could only charge her with manslaughter in the end, as they found CCTV of Owen buying the petrol himself,’ says Tor, nibbling a pink macaron. ‘So it’s difficult to argue that it was her intention to burn him to death.’
‘But why manslaughter? I thought it was suicide or an accident,’ says Sophie, getting upset.
‘He had a knife wound in his throat, and there was no knife found at the scene.’ Aisha taps her notebook. ‘Which, if I’m not mistaken, means there was someone else there.’
‘Oh God, really? So he was stabbed first?’ says Sophie.
‘He could’ve tried to cut his own throat and bottled out,’ I say.
‘That’s a good argument,’ says Tor. ‘I’ll mention it to Dominic.’
‘He owed people money,’ says Sophie. ‘If he was murdered, couldn’t it be one of them?’
‘Yes, of course, but there’s a big fat elephant sitting in the room,’ says Tor. ‘Cait was at the house that evening before she went to her mum’s. She said so herself. And the timing of his petrol purchase suggests he might’ve been waiting there for her.’
‘Oh, poor Cait!’ says Sophie. ‘So she might’ve found him in her house and had to defend herself.’
‘But she said she left the house and never saw Owen,’ says Aisha.
‘But she would say that,’ says Tor. ‘Sorry, I’m just trying to be objective.’
‘Objectionable, rather,’ I say.
‘Look, it’s best to think the worst, but hope for the best,’ says Tor.
‘Christ,’ says Sophie. ‘If she went to the house on her own, she’s got no alibi, has she?’
‘Look, no one here thinks Cait did it – do they?’ says Aisha, staring at each of us in turn.
‘It doesn’t matter if she did or didn’t do it,’ says Tor, stumbling upon an insight. ‘It matters that they can argue that she did. He might’ve provided the means, but she not only had the opportunity, she had a motive – he was threatening her and the girls.’
‘You know she was cautioned for threatening him with a knife when they still lived together?’ I say.
‘That’s true,’ says Sophie. ‘Oh God, yes, that’s not going to look good in court.’
‘It can’t be her,’ says Aisha. ‘She’d never do anything to risk losing her girls.’
‘Sometimes even sane people risk everything,’ says Tor. ‘A moment of madness built on years of self-restraint and frustration.’
We all look up at Tor, who is speaking with uncharacteristic clarity and passion.
‘Are you OK?’ says Aisha.
‘Well, a person can make a mistake, can’t they?’ Tor smiles and then bursts into tears and walks out.
We all stare at her. Then we stare at one another Sophie’s eyebrows are raised in astonishment.
‘It’s like the moment in The Wizard of Oz when the Tin Man cries,’ says Sophie.
As Aisha jumps up and rushes to get Tor a glass of water (why this is needed in an emotional crisis I do not know), I think about the likelihood of Cait telling the police about Jason Mercer and decide I need to feel more confident of her continued cooperation.
I am the last to leave. This is not due to my love of company, but because I need to see Tor alone. As she shows me to the door, I hold her hand and say, ‘I’ve got the money for you.’
‘Oh, that’s great. Thank you, Lalla. I owe you.’
‘But I’ll need to see Zac for myself before I send anything to him or this Bitcoin account.’
‘But why?’ she says, immediately suspicious of my motives. ‘Don’t you trust Zac?’
‘I don’t know Zac, so, no, I don’t trust him, I’m afraid. I want to know this will end things for you and you won’t be asked for any more money.’
‘Thank you,’ she says, tearfully. ‘But it’s not him, I promise you.’
‘I’m just making sure. Now, please arrange to meet him. Somewhere public is better, and I’ll show up in your place. Surprise will prevent any preparation, and if I’m reassured that Zac’s not scamming you, I’ll transfer the money and make sure those videos are really deleted.’
‘I’m so grateful,’ she says, and her face contorts and reddens like a child’s.
‘You’ll get through this, Tor, I promise. I’m your greatest supporter,’ I say. And as I look at her, I realize what it is I’m going to ask in return. And she’s not going to like it one little bit.