Chapter 59
Mika Fonseka sat on the opposite side of the table in a grey police station issued tracksuit with her arms crossed. She’d declined to have a solicitor, or anyone informed of her arrest and had objected to every part of the booking in process including having her samples taken.
‘I want it on the record that I do not recognise the authority of the Metropolitan Police, and the justice system is a farce,’ said Mika.
Ramouter rolled his eyes.
Henley coughed and took a sip of a water. ‘Doesn’t really matter whether you recognise it or not. The fact is that you’re sitting here because you’ve been arrested for the murder of six people,’ she said.
‘How is it six?’ Mika asked.
‘Douglas Mantell, Gong Bo Hyoo, Sian Fox-Carnell, Nathan Hall, Kaiden Longley and Catlin Ferguson.’
‘I didn’t kill any of those people. I wasn’t even there. That was all down to Donovan Hernandez and my husband.’
‘Oh wow. Straight in there with the cutthroat,’ said Ramouter.
‘You’ve also been arrested for conspiracy to murder Tabitha and Graham Ashcroft and Paige Jones, the attempted murder of DC Xania Copeland and assault on DC Ramouter and me,’ said Henley.
‘You forgot arson with intent to endanger life and kidnapping,’ said Ramouter.
‘I did not attempt to kill that policewoman. I had no idea who she was, and I was defending myself, and as for you,’ Mika said, pointing at Henley.
‘Let’s not do this. I identified myself,’ said Henley. ‘What I want to know is why?’
‘Why did my husband and Donovan decide to kill those people? I have no idea,’ Mika shrugged. ‘You know when they say that you don’t really know people. Well guess what? That’s true. I had no idea my husband was a monster.’
‘You’re saying you had nothing to do with this? That this wasn’t all your idea? That you didn’t manipulate your husband to provide you with the full case details for the victims you were supporting? Is that what you’re telling us?’
‘Yes,’ Mika smirked. ‘I wouldn’t be the first wife to be blindsided by her husband. Manipulated. Gaslighted.’
‘The burns on your arms and face,’ said Ramouter as he pressed play on the laptop and turned it towards Mika.
‘The HCP – that’s the health care practitioner – who assessed you when you were booked in, said that your injuries were consistent with acid burns.
This is footage from last Saturday when Catlin Ferguson was attacked.
As you can see, we’ve enhanced the footage. ’
Mika remained silent as the footage played. Catlin turning around and facing a heavy-set white man. A woman running into view with a bottle in her hand. Mika shuffled in her seat and looked away when she saw her own face.
‘We searched the car you hired,’ Henley said.
She picked up an unsealed plastic exhibit bag that contained four small, sealed exhibit bags and placed them in front of Mika.
Human hair was attached to pieces of dried skin.
‘Samples have already been retrieved and are currently with the forensic services but I’m pretty confident they’ll confirm they’re a DNA match for Mantell, Bo Hyoo, Fox-Carnell and Hall. ’
‘They were obviously planted in my belongings. Must have been Elliot,’ said Mika.
‘Elliot. Your husband who was remanded two days ago to Brixton Prison, somehow managed to plant evidence in your bag. A bag that contained your clothes and passport. Is that what you’re telling us?’ asked Ramouter.
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You seem to think I’m the bad person here. That I’ve done something wrong. That woman on the footage isn’t me. I didn’t kill anyone or try to kill anyone. You won’t find my fingerprints or DNA anywhere.’
‘What about Paige Jones? You waited outside her home, followed her to her studio,’ said Henley.
‘I found her there. In fact, I was trying to save her.’
‘Save her? You wanted to kill her. You injected her with Rohypnol, tied her up and had a knife to her head when I stopped you. Tell me, which part of that was saving her?’
Mika tapped her leg against the table, watching Henley defiantly, as she ran her finger across the bandage on her right hand.
‘Why, Mika? Six people dead. They were tortured, made to suffer. Punished because you persuaded your husband, Donovan Hernandez and Kaiden Longley to kill for you.’
‘I didn’t ask anyone to do anything for me,’ said Mika.
‘But can you imagine how it would feel to spend sixteen years sitting with victims. You sit with those victims, hold their hands and tell them that the court will hear them, really hear them and do the right thing. You hold their hands, give them tissues when they cry, escort them to the court room and watch as they give evidence. You see the jury sit there transfixed, nodding away, believing them. You hear how strong the prosecution case is, and you think to yourself that yes, this poor woman, man, child will get justice. You promise them that this tiresome, cruel court process will be worth it and then you get the call that the jury’s ready.
You’re convinced that their abuser, murderer, rapist will be convicted and punished but then for some inexplicable reason they walk away. No justice. How is that fair?’
‘So, you took it upon yourself to deliver justice?’ asked Henley.
‘I never said it was me. I just posed a question.’
‘What about Catlin Ferguson? You killed her before the jury delivered their verdict,’ said Ramouter.
‘I didn’t kill her,’ said Mika. ‘That was clearly Donovan on the street. I don’t know who that other woman is.’
‘The jury delivered a guilty verdict. Unanimous.’
‘You’re lying,’ Mika said as she pulled herself up. ‘She was going to walk. I could see it on their faces. Elliot could see it too.’
Ramouter took a printout and handed it to Mika. ‘This is a copy of the trial record. As you can see, on Monday at 11.26 a.m. a verdict was returned. Guilty. Unanimous. You interfered with justice.’
‘No,’ Mika said, her eyes scanning rapidly across the page. ‘You made this up. This is fake. You’re a fucking liar.’ She ripped the page in two, screwed up the pieces and threw them at Ramouter.
‘Why don’t you help yourself and admit that you were involved, and that this entire thing was your idea?’ said Henley.
‘I’ve told you. I had nothing to do with any of this. It was my husband and Donovan.’
‘Here’s the thing. Both your husband and Donovan Hernandez have become quite talkative in the past twenty-four hours,’ said Henley.
‘When they were first interviewed, they were, I suppose loyal is the word, but the realisation that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in a prison cell sobered them up.’
For the first time, there was fear in Mika’s eyes as she looked at Henley and Ramouter. ‘What do you mean?’ Mika asked, her voice low.
‘Before Donovan Hernandez was produced at court this morning he gave a statement to our colleague.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That you were the ringleader. That he was following your orders including an order to throw Kaiden Longley from the balcony of his flat.’
‘That’s not true,’ Mika said softly, her fingernails scraping against the burned skin on her face.
‘And then there’s your husband. I don’t know whether the prison air does something to your senses, but he also had a lot to say,’ said Ramouter.
‘In fact, I’ve got a copy of my colleague’s notes right here.
“I, Elliot Fonseka make the following admissions. I obtained confidential court information on the request of my wife Mikaela Fonseka. I obtained these documents under duress. I—”’
‘No, no, no,’ Mika screamed. ‘How could he? The liar.’
Mika stood up, banged her hands repeatedly on the table and swept all the exhibit bags and folders to the floor.
Ramouter raised his eyebrows, and pressed the alarm strip that ran around the perimeter of the interview room.
‘Suspend it?’ he asked Henley as the door flew open and the custody sergeant appeared with a plain clothes officer.
‘Yes,’ Henley said. She picked up the exhibit bags containing the scalps of Mika’s victims from the floor.
‘Interview suspended at 11.36 a.m..’
Henley stood outside the gates of Lewisham police station and breathed in deeply. She could still taste smoke in the back of her throat and the headache was taking an age to shift.
‘Can I say that I think she’s crazy,’ said Ramouter, zipping up his coat.
‘Mika Fonseka is not crazy,’ said Henley. ‘That woman knew exactly what she was doing. She’s manipulative and evil but the irony is that she’s going to be asking the jury to believe that she’s the innocent one in her husband’s sick games.’
‘They won’t fall for it,’ said Ramouter as they walked towards Henley’s car. ‘They’re all going to sit in the dock, blaming each other and they’re all going to go down.’
‘I bloody hope so,’ Henley said as her and Ramouter’s phones both rang at the same time.
Ramouter paled as his thumb hovered above the green accept button. ‘It’s Eastwood,’ he said.
‘Pellacia,’ Henley replied. She pressed accept, closed her eyes and silently prayed as she listened to Pellacia. He was short. To the point. Emotional. She ended the call and wiped her eyes.
‘Ezra’s awake,’ Ramouter said quickly with a broad smile on his face. ‘Awake and talking.’
‘Thank God,’ Henley said, exhaling with relief.
‘I want to see him,’ Ramouter said as the 199 bus which stopped at Lewisham hospital approached.
‘I need to see Copeland at Guy’s first. She shouldn’t be alone. You go and I’ll catch up later.’
Henley’s phone rang as she watched Ramouter board the bus.
She felt the pressure push at the base of her skull when she checked the screen.
It was Chris Snyder from the NCA. Her thumb hovered over the green accept button for a few seconds and then she silenced the call.
Whatever information Chris had for her about Rhimes’s handler could wait. Her priority now was the living.