The Cop, page 12
‘You’ve been out of it for nearly forty-eight hours. If the doctors hadn’t pumped your stomach, you’d have been a goner long before now. This was no cry for help. You meant it. You wanted to die. It was only a quirk of fate that saved you.’
Conner attempted to jump up in bed, to protest, to contradict her contention. But he fell back when his handcuffed left wrist jarred against the metal bed frame, making him wince. He pulled wildly at the cuffs, attempting and failing to free his arm and cutting his wrist in the process, dark blood running down his hand and staining the bedsheet one drop at a time.
‘What the hell are these things all about? Get them unlocked. Get the fucking things off! Give me the key now!’
Hodgson didn’t move an inch.
‘Don’t just sit there, woman. Get the fucking things off! I’m not a risk to myself. Get them off! And that’s an order in case you were wondering. I’m still your superior. It might be an idea to remember that. Do what you’re fucking told.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, Mike. That’s not going to happen. Your days of issuing orders are well and truly over.’
He clenched his jaw, growling, teeth bared, eyes narrowed to virtual slits as his blood pressure soared to a savage high.
‘Have you gone insane, woman? What the fuck are you talking about? You’re talking total shit.’
‘I haven’t seen this side of you before. The angry man. It’s illuminating, to say the least. You were a good actor. I’ll give you that much.’
‘You’ll get the fucking things off if you know what’s good for you!’
Hodgson reached out, grabbing Conner’s secured arm with a surprisingly firm grip.
‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Is that clear enough for you? Or would you like me to repeat myself? You seem to be having problems grasping the gravity of your situation.’
Conner laughed coldly, spittle spraying from his open mouth as he glared at her, eyes flashing, wishing he could hit out and silence her forever.
‘Is this a wind-up? Is there a hidden camera somewhere? It’s a joke, right? This is a complete farce. It would be funny if it weren’t so ridiculous. Who the fuck do you think I killed?’
‘Oh, I think you know the answer to that.’
He was sweating now, chest puffed out, nostrils flared red, his breathing louder as his confused fury threatened to engulf him completely. ‘You say I tried to kill somebody. You say I tried to kill myself. It’s all crap! Total and utter shit. Now, get the cuffs off! I haven’t done anything of the kind. It’s all a fantasy of your own making. You’re off your fucking head.’
‘You’re getting a little worked up, Mike. It might be an idea to shut your lying mouth until you’ve got a lawyer to hold your hand. I shouldn’t need to tell you that. You’re in enough trouble without making it even worse for yourself. You’re not convincing anyone, not now, not any more.’
Conner’s head dropped, and for a fleeting moment she thought he may start weeping. He raised his eyes slowly a second later, speaking in a contrived more conciliatory tone he thought to his advantage, as he forced a scream back down his throat.
‘What the hell are you talking about? I don’t need a solicitor. Be reasonable, think about what you’re saying. I’m a respected police inspector, not some lowlife offender. I really thought we were friends. We’ve known each other for a long time, remember?’
‘I’m not playing your games.’
He looked incredulous, his mind darting from one unanswered question to the next as his gut twisted and spasmed.
‘Games? I’m not playing games. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’
Hodgson moved to the end of his bed, in no hurry to explain, preparing to leave in her own time, when it suited her.
‘You know how this works as well as I do. You’ll be formally interviewed as soon as the doctors say you’re fit for discharge. And don’t even think about trying to escape justice. Even if you managed to get the cuffs off, which seems highly unlikely, there’ll be a uniformed constable at the entrance to your room twenty-four hours a day for as long as you’re here. You’re not going anywhere.’
He held his unsecured hand out wide.
‘Oh come on, Sarah, I thought we were mates. We work together. Have done for years. Have you forgotten who I am? This is crazy, totally fucking crazy! Think about what you’re doing before it’s too late. You’re not doing your career any favours.’
Hodgson walked towards the door, stopping mid-step, looking back at him, feeling a heady mix of revulsion and regret.
‘You had me conned. You had us all conned. We let Kathy down. I’ll never forgive myself for that. I should have believed her. I should have acted on her allegations. Every word she said was true.’
‘Kathy? Are you trying to say I murdered Kathy?’
‘Why the denial? It’s over. There’s a price to pay for your crimes. Take responsibly for your actions. A confession would at least rescue your reputation to some extent. It’s the one card you’ve got left to play.’
Conner began rocking back and forth in his bed, his eyes glazing over as he glared in her direction, thinking the world had gone mad.
‘Now, you listen to me! I’m going to make myself crystal clear. I did not kill Kathy. I haven’t touched the bitch. And there’s not going to be a sentence. I’ll be out of here and back in work before you know it. Get that into your thick head. I’m an innocent man.’
Hodgson suppressed a snigger.
‘What is it with you, Mike, have you no shame? You made that poor woman’s life a total misery, and then you took her life as if she didn’t matter at all. She didn’t deserve that. No woman deserves that. It’s time to show some contrition. Let her family have her body for burial. Find some courage and face your guilt. Do the right thing for once in your life. Surely even you can see sense in that. The game’s well and truly up.’
Conner began shouting now, his voice resonating with wild emotion as his chest tightened.
‘You haven’t found a body! What does that tell you? Think, woman! Stop making assumptions. Maybe then you’ll see what’s staring you in the face. Kathy’s done a runner! She’s not dead, she’s gone. I have not touched her. Why aren’t you listening to me? How many times do I have to say it? A trained chimp could work it out. It couldn’t be more obvious if it were carved in tablets of fucking stone.’
Hodgson shook her head.
‘Do you really think that I’m that stupid? Do you really think it’s going to be that easy? The evidence speaks for itself. It tells an undeniable story. You’re going to prison, Mike. You’re going to be locked up. It’s just a matter of how long for and what happens when you get there. Face facts and get used to it. The good times are over, whatever you say, whatever you do. I’m in control now. It’s all downhill from here.’
16
Kathy looked in one shop window after another, searching for non-existent written notifications of job vacancies, before finally building up sufficient courage to enter an independent women’s clothes shop to enquire in person. She repeated the process without success for a little over an hour before eventually wandering into Merlin’s Lane, a long and narrow walkway with small shops and occasional pubs, wine bars and restaurants on either side. She was about to give up on her quest and head for the job centre when a bright, bijou vegetarian cafe caught her eye no more than a two- minute walk from where she stood. Kathy checked her pockets for loose change as she walked towards the door, and glanced through the misted glass panes. There was something about the place she liked; a general vibe that pleased her. She pushed open the door, appreciating the comparative warmth that met her as she entered the airy room with its lilac paint, Christmas decorations, mistletoe, and original paintings by talented local artists festooning the walls. Kathy chose a two-seater black leather sofa near to the serving counter to sit in, took off her rain-sodden coat, and perused the menu for a minute or two before an attractive young waitress with striking pale-blue eyes and flame-red hair approached her table.
‘Are you ready to order?’
Kathy looked up at the young woman’s smiling face and felt immediately at ease. She looked a little like a childhood friend. A girl she’d liked immensely.
‘Is it okay if I just have a bowl of soup?’
‘Of course it is, no problem at all. We’ve got a nice chunky vegetable cawl or lentil and tomato.’
‘Ooh, I think I’ll have the cawl, it sounds delicious.’
The young woman noted the order on a small pad with a yellow pencil. ‘Do you want bread with that?’
‘Do you have gluten-free?’
The waitress nodded her head. ‘One or two slices?’
‘Two, please.’
‘And some cheese?’
Kathy creased up her nose.
‘No, not for me thanks. I’m lactose intolerant. My husband used to make me drink milk sometimes because it amused him.’
The young waitress frowned. ‘That sounds terrible.’
‘Yes, yes, it was.’
‘Do you want anything else?’
‘Just a glass of water, if that’s okay? My throat is a bit sore. I think I may be going in for something.’
‘Tap or bottled?’
‘Just tap, please.’
The friendly waitress grinned for a second time before walking away with a sway of her hips.
‘It’ll be with you in five minutes.’
Kathy perused a colourful vegan recipe book taken from a packed bookcase with only limited interest as she sat and waited. She’d only reached page five by the time the waitress reappeared with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of steaming cawl in the other. She placed both items on the table before fetching two slices of bread and a soup spoon seconds later.
‘Enjoy! If there’s anything else you need, just give me a shout. There’s salt and pepper on the table.’
Kathy enjoyed the aromatic vapour rising from her bowl as she waited patiently for the cawl to cool. She spooned some from the very edge and blew it gently before swallowing. It was still a little too hot but very tasty; as good as any she could hope to make herself. She felt her jaw tense as she recalled the last time she’d prepared such a meal, but she relaxed slightly as she glanced around the room and drove the memory from her mind. That was the past and this was now. She had to live in the present. Take pleasure in the little things; the ordinary things that made life worthwhile.
Kathy dipped a half-slice of brown bread into her toothsome cawl and began eating with gusto. She was in a cafe and free to order whatever she chose. She took pleasure in the thought. Her life had changed so very much. Not so very long ago such things would have been impossible.
Kathy ate the remainder of her meal, feeling better for its warm sustenance as it settled in her stomach. She drained half the glass to finish, and stood to pay, counting out sufficient coins to meet the very reasonable bill.
‘I hope everything was okay for you?’ Kathy nodded enthusiastically.
‘It was wonderful, thank you. I haven’t enjoyed a meal nearly as much in a very long time.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
Kathy handed over the cash.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’m looking for work. You don’t happen to know of anything, do you?’
The waitress opened the till. ‘Can you make tea and coffee?’
‘Yes, yes, I can certainly do that.’
‘And how about serving customers at their tables?’
‘It’s not something I’ve ever done, not professionally anyway, but I’m sure I could manage it.’
‘One of my staff left to go travelling in South America a day or two back. I’ll give you a two-week trial if you’re interested.’
Kathy beamed.
‘That would be fantastic, thank you. I’m so very glad of your offer. I nearly didn’t ask at all.’
‘Be here by a quarter to nine in the morning. It’s minimum wage, but you’ll get your meals thrown in, and we’re a friendly bunch.’
Things were looking positive for Kathy, right up to the second she spotted her face emblazoned on the front of another customer’s tabloid newspaper, with the large, bold headline:
OFFICER ARRESTED FOR MURDER
Kathy focussed on the floor, mumbling her words.
‘I’ll, um, I’ll be here at eight forty-five sharp. Do I need to bring anything with me?’
‘No, just bring yourself, and that will be fine. There’s no need to be nervous. I’ll show you how everything works before the first customers arrive. You’re going to be fine.’
Kathy turned away, pulled on her coat, lowered her head and rushed out into the cold, all the time asking herself why her footfalls sounded so very loud on the wooden floor. She’d looked different in the photo, younger and with dark hair too. She’d gotten away with it, hadn’t she? The reader hadn’t stared. He hadn’t said anything to cause alarm… but, hold on… other people would have seen the report. Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands conceivably. People with prying eyes. People who’d report back. Even the bastard’s spies!
Kathy hurried into a quiet residential courtyard leading off the winding lane and threw up in a corner behind a large green wheelie bin as the sky darkened and the day’s light began to fade. She continued wrenching, doubled over and shaking until her gut ached and there was nothing left but bile.
Kathy spat the remaining vomit from her mouth and wiped the tears from her eyes with a sleeve of her wet coat. She rose to her full height and tried to look to the positives. The newspaper report wasn’t the end of her world. It wasn’t a disaster. No, of course it wasn’t. No one had said anything. She wasn’t recognised. Kathy repeated it in her mind, once, then twice, before finally continuing her thought process as she walked away. There would be obstacles. There were always obstacles. No one said it was going to be easy. But she’d overcome barriers before. She had to hold her nerve, for her and for her child’s sake too. A photo was just a photo and no more. Today’s news was tomorrow’s rubbish. She had to remain calm. What other option was there? Hold her nerve, avoid panicking whatever the provocation, and she could still beat the bastard. She could still win!
17
Hodgson took a slurp of cooling coffee, pushed her seemingly endless piles of mainly pointless paperwork aside, and picked up the phone on the third insistent ring. ‘CID, how can I help you?’
Hodgson recognised Detective Chief Superintendent Harry Watts’ familiar North of England accent as soon as he opened his mouth.
‘We need a chat, Sarah. Be in my office in ten minutes. I’ve got a couple of things to do, then I’ll be ready for you. Don’t be late, time is of the essence.’
‘Do I need to bring anything with me, sir?’
‘Anything you’ve got pertaining to the Conner case. It’s going to be high profile. The media are all over it. We’ve got to be seen to get it right.’
Hodgson knocked on the head of the Criminal Investigation Department’s office door, opened it reticently and peeped in.
‘Are you ready for me, sir?’
DCS Watts looked up from his computer screen with his black plastic framed reading glasses perched on the very tip of his nose.
‘Come on in, Sarah, take a seat. Take the weight off and try to relax. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
She sat herself down on the opposite side of Watts’ excessively large oak-veneer desk, smoothing non-existent creases from her skirt with a quick movement of her hand.
‘Yes, sorry, sir, it’s been a stressful few days.’
The DCS nodded his agreement. ‘It’s always more difficult when it’s one of our own. Who’d have believed it, Michael Conner? I thought nothing could surprise me any more, after all my years in the job. But it seems I was wrong. I actually played golf with the man. I thought we were friends.’
‘He’s the last person I’d have suspected.’
Watts checked his high-end Swiss sports watch, making it obvious.
‘Quite so, quite so… now, how about a quick cup of coffee before we make a start? I’ve got twenty minutes or so before I need to head off.’
‘Um, I’ve not long had one.’
‘The kettle’s on the windowsill; there’s only powdered milk, I’m afraid. My secretary’s still on sick leave.’
Hodgson crossed the room.
‘Remind me, Sarah, how long have you been a detective?’
She looked back at him as she waited for the water to come to the boil. ‘Um, it’s almost six years now. Doesn’t time fly when you’re enjoying yourself?’
He smiled thinly. ‘I’ve been keeping a close eye on your career. You’ve done well. You’re making good progress.’
Hodgson felt her face flush. ‘Thank you, sir, it’s good of you to say so.’
‘One sugar for me. It should be there somewhere.’
She dropped a spoonful of instant coffee into each of two matching pottery mugs, adding powdered milk and finally sugar before stirring vigorously with a silver teaspoon.
‘What’s this about, sir?’
‘You arrested Conner at the hospital, yes?’ She handed him his mug.
‘Yes, yes I did.’
‘And now he’s in a cell awaiting interview.’
Hodgson nodded twice, asking herself where the conversation was going.
‘Is there something I haven’t done correctly? Is that it, or—’
‘No, no, not at all,’ he said, interrupting her. ‘I want you to conduct the interview yourself. There’s only so long we can keep him locked up without charge, the clock’s ticking.’
The pitch of her voice rose an octave. ‘You want me to do it?’
‘That’s what I said. Why not you?’
‘I’m just a DS. I thought you’d select a more senior and experienced officer. DI Lewis is back after his holiday. Perhaps he could take the lead with me as the second interviewer. We’ve worked together before. It went well. We’ve got a good rapport.’
