Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Anthony Winstanley was sitting at the front desk at the top of the library. He was checking back in some books, removing the tab of card from the borrower’s file and placing it carefully in the little pouch at the front of the book. He was slow in his movements as he concentrated hard on his task.
‘Anthony Winstanley?’
He looked up at his name being called. Two men in suits stood in front of the desk, looming over him. He suddenly felt nervous, and he didn’t know why.
‘Yes,’ he said with a croak in his voice. His mouth was dry.
‘DC Eddie Ritter, North East Police. This is DC Tyler. We understand you were friends with Alice Patterson.’
His face lit up, slightly. A sad smile caught his lips. It quickly faded. ‘Yes. I miss her.’
‘I’m sure you do. Can you tell us where you were on the night she was killed?’
‘I was watching the storm.’
‘You were watching the storm?’ Eddie looked to Chris then back to Anthony. ‘On your own?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you see anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘I… I don’t think so.’
‘We’d like you to accompany us to the station.’
‘Station?’
‘Police station.’
‘Why?’
‘We’d like to talk to you about the murder of Alice Patterson.’
‘What’s going on?’ Jane Wilkinson asked, coming out of the back room. She stood, protectively, beside Anthony.
‘Anthony’s name has come up in our investigations and we’d like a formal word with him down at the station,’ Eddie said, a tight smile on his chapped lips.
‘Are you arresting him?’
‘Not at the moment. If you’d like to come with us, Anthony.’
‘Why?’ Anthony asked, confused.
‘Anthony, if you obstruct our investigation, we can arrest you, but it won’t look good for you.’
Jane leaned down to Anthony and lowered her voice. ‘Anthony, go with them. It’ll be all right. I’ll phone your mum for you. I’ll tell her what’s going on. She can come and get you.’
‘They’re arresting me?’ He looked up at her with wet eyes.
‘No, sweetheart, they’re not. They just want to talk to you because you knew Alice.
You were her friend. Just go with them,’ she said, looking up at everyone in the library watching them.
She knew Anthony being taken away by police would be around Whitby in no time.
‘Do as they say, Anthony. They’re the police. You can trust them.’
Slowly, Anthony was helped to his feet. DC Ritter took one arm, DC Tyler the other, and they led him through the shelves of books, past the gawping customers, out through the doors and to the waiting car haphazardly parked on the pavement.
As he was placed into the back of the car, Anthony looked at Jane through the window. The look on his face would stay with her for the rest of her life. He was mortified. He was scared.
Laura and Carol were in the doorway to the staffroom, arms folded, watching what was happening.
‘Did they just arrest him for killing Alice? Laura asked.
‘No. No. Of course, they didn’t.’ Jane said. She was still dumbfounded. ‘He’s just helping them with their enquiries.’
‘Well, we all know what that means, don’t we?’ Carol said.
‘Do we?’ Laura asked.
‘You remember Andy, my Reg’s brother, don’t you?
Well, when he worked at Granton’s, there was this big scandal to do with money going missing.
The police interviewed everyone, including Andy.
A couple of weeks later, they came back and asked Andy to accompany them to the station.
Helping with enquiries is what they said.
Next thing, Reg gets a call from his mother.
They’d only charged him with theft and fraud. ’
‘No!’ Laura said, hooked on the story.
‘He denied it, obviously. It went to court. He was found guilty and served five years.’
‘Is he out now?’
‘Oh, yes, he’s out. His mother won’t have anything to do with him. She wouldn’t even have him in the house when his father died. He’s in Tunstall now. We don’t see him,’ Carol said, pulling a face.
‘Anthony won’t go to prison, will he?’ Laura asked, looking to Jane for the answer.
‘Of course, he won’t.’
‘I always knew there was something strange about Anthony,’ Carol said. ‘I mean, you’ve heard what some of the parents said about him when he worked on the children’s club. That’s why he stopped doing Saturdays, isn’t it, Jane?’
Jane ignored her.
‘Alice was … well, you know … she was raped. Anthony isn’t capable of doing that,’ Laura said.
‘He’s a man. He’s capable,’ Carol said, turning on her heel and leaving the room.
Jane looked up at Laura. ‘I’m going to ring his mum. You look after the desk. And make sure Carol isn’t spreading any harmful gossip.’
‘Will do.’
Laura left, closing the door behind her.
Jane got Anthony’s number from the list of staff contact details taped to the wall. She picked up the receiver and dialled. It rang and rang and rang, but there was no answer.
WPC Freya Sloan was in the corridor, pinning up a notice about the staff Christmas party. Tickets were one pound, there was to be a raffle where the first prize was a turkey, and all proceeds were being donated to a local homeless charity. She had already bought her ticket.
‘Is there a second and third prize?’
She jumped, turned and saw DC Chris Tyler standing behind her.
‘Second prize is a bottle of wine that you really don’t want to win.’
Chris smiled. ‘Why not?’
‘Sergeant Willis found it next to a radiator in the lost property room.’ Freya laughed, feeling a warmth rise within her as he stepped closer.
‘And the third prize?’
‘That’s still to be decided. At this rate, I’m guessing it’ll be a Christmas cracker,’ she smiled. ‘Are you going? Plenty of tickets left.’
‘That depends,’ he said, plunging his hands in his pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet.
‘On what?’
‘On whether you’ll come with me.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m already going.’
‘I gathered that. But … you know, maybe we could go together? I doubt the food’ll be up to much. We could go somewhere first for tea. There’s a new Bernie Inn just outside town. You up for it?’ he asked, avoiding eye contact with her.
Freya was flattered and didn’t need long to consider her answer. ‘All right. Yes. Sounds fun.’
He looked at her and flashed her the smile that made her stomach flutter. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was a commotion from the end of the corridor. They both turned towards it.
Three uniformed officers were manhandling a huge man who Freya recognised straight away as Anthony Winstanley from the library.
Even from so far away, she could see the distinct look of horror and fear on his face.
They marched him towards one of the interview rooms, opened the door, and practically threw him inside.
‘What’s going on?’ Freya asked Chris.
‘Person of interest.’
‘Anthony? But he’s harmless. He was sweet on Alice. The manageress said so. Surely, you don’t suspect him?’
‘DI Bishop does.’
‘I can’t see that,’ she frowned.
‘You wouldn’t say that if you heard what the local sl— er … prostitutes said about him.’
‘What are they saying?’
‘I’m about to find out,’ Chris said. He gave her a half-hearted smile before heading towards the interview room.
Pauline was due at the nursing home at one o’clock.
After Anthony went to work, she cleared away the breakfast things, dusted the living room and hoovered throughout the downstairs.
The storm had made a mess of the back garden, so she’d gone out and picked up the broken twigs and leaves.
After that, she vigorously washed her hands and had a cup of tea and a biscuit before running a bath.
She had just sunk herself into the hot water when the phone started ringing. She pondered whether to get out and answer it but knew she wouldn’t get back in afterwards. She wanted to be fresh for work, so decided to ignore it. It probably wasn’t anything important. It never usually was.
Anthony Winstanley was sitting alone in an interview room.
It was cold and there was a horrible smell of strong disinfectant, but not the lovely pine-smelling one his mum used.
He’d been thrown inside the room and the door had slammed behind him.
He had no idea how long ago that was, but it seemed like hours.
There was a table full of marks and dents with four chairs around it. He pulled one out and sat down and waited.
Anthony wished his mum was here. She would look after him. She would know exactly what to do and what was happening. Actually, he’d prefer Leo was here. He seemed to know more about things than his mum. He had a better way of looking at things that calmed him down.
The door opened and made him jump. He quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his jumper and looked up at the men who entered.
‘You need to sit at the other side of the table,’ one of them said.
‘Sorry?’
‘We sit at this side. You sit at the other side.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. I … I didn’t know.’
Anthony eased himself up out of the chair. He towered over the policemen but felt intimidated by them. They stood back and he walked slowly to the correct side of the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. He looked at the man who’d spoken to him and smiled.
‘Anthony, I’m Detective Inspector Henry Bishop,’ he began, slapping a file down on the table, and sat opposite Anthony.
‘I’m leading the investigation into the murder of Alice Patterson.
This is Detective Sergeant Stephen Osborne and Detective Constable Edward Ritter. We’d like to ask you some questions.’
‘OK,’ Anthony said.
Bishop allowed the silence to grow, and watched as Anthony’s gaze flitted between all three men before landing back on him.
‘How did you know Alice Patterson?’
‘She comes into the library where I work.’
‘How often did she come in?’
‘Every Monday. Sometimes at the weekends as well.’
‘Did you like her?’
He looked up and smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Why did you like her?’
‘She was nice.’
‘Nice?’
‘She was kind.’
‘In what way kind?’
‘Sorry?’
‘In what way was she kind?’
‘I … I don’t know. She smiled a lot.’
‘What was she smiling at?’
‘I don’t know. I told her jokes.’
‘Do you tell other people who come into the library jokes?’