Authors: Janet O'Kane
No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (27 page)
After a moment’s panic, wondering how on earth Kate knew Neil had stayed over, Zoe reasoned she must be referring to events at the shop. She was lucky her inquisitive friend had not turned up unannounced, impatient to find out more.
Sunday dinner cooked by Etta Mackenzie was too good to miss, even though, unlike Neil, she found sex an appetite suppressant. Zoe quickly texted her acceptance.
The hire car continued to feel sluggish after her own, but Zoe still arrived early at Hawick police station.
Must stop building extra time into journeys for non-existent traffic jams.
At exactly one o’clock, the interview room’s door opened and Mather strode in. Today’s suit was a charcoal grey pinstripe, setting off a silk tie in several shades of turquoise.
‘Doctor Moreland, thank you for coming.’
Surprised at the intimation that she was there because he had requested her presence, Zoe muttered, ‘No problem,’ and looked at him expectantly. He pulled out a chair, stared at it for a moment as though fighting the urge to wipe it with his handkerchief, and sat down.
‘How’s Lisa?’ Zoe asked.
‘Still tearful, but fairly cooperative.’
‘What does that mean exactly?’
‘It means she’s admitted killing her husband. She claims she did it because he was insisting she abort their baby.’
‘As I told you.’
‘As you told me. However, there are some strange elements to this case. You may be able to help us make sense of them.’
‘I’m only here to help Lisa.’
‘You’d be doing that too.’ The policeman straightened his tie. ‘As is usual, we carried out some background checks on Mr and Mrs Humphreys, to enable us to get in touch with their relatives. But in this case we can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because when we searched their home we could find nothing to support their having existed before arriving in Westerlea. No birth or marriage certificates, no passports, not even an address book.’
‘What about records of their purchase of the shop? That would give you a previous address or the details of the solicitor they used, at least.’
‘There’s nothing of that nature at all. And the various computer records we have at our disposal have drawn a blank too. Neither of them appears to have a driving licence, for example.’
‘Perhaps they keep that kind of thing in a safety deposit box at their bank. What does Lisa say?’
‘That’s where I’m hoping you can help. Mrs Humphreys has denied all knowledge of where her husband kept their records, except for the shop accounts.’
‘And you don’t believe her, even though it would be symptomatic of what we know about their relationship?’
‘I know she’s lying because she’s not very good at it.’
‘So what makes you think she’ll tell me? I’m not keen on doing your dirty work for you.’
‘I’m sorry that’s how you see it. Somewhere there are people who know the Humphreys, who would want to be informed of Brian’s death. Lisa won’t even give us the name of any family members.’
‘Can’t her solicitor help?’
‘He’s giving her sound legal advice, but he hasn’t gained her trust like you have.’
‘Is this information necessary to your investigation?’
‘We need to build up a complete picture. A jigsaw puzzle, remember?’
‘And what should I do if she tells me where her family is?’
‘I’ll leave that for to you to decide.’ Mather opened the file he had brought in with him and pulled out a small, creased photograph. He slid it across the table. ‘This may help. We found it in Mr Humphreys’ wallet.’
Zoe picked up the photograph and studied it. ‘That’s Brian. I wonder how long ago this was taken?’
‘If it’s relevant we have people who can work that out.’
‘I think these children are very relevant, don’t you? This little boy is the spitting image of Brian. Here’s why he was so against Lisa having a baby – he already had children from another relationship.’
The clothes Lisa had been provided with hung off her tiny frame, exaggerating her frailty. Zoe desperately wanted to give the girl a reassuring hug but they were separated by a glass partition. A policeman stood against the wall behind Lisa, staring at the back of her head.
‘How are you?’ Zoe asked. ‘Are they treating you well?’
Lisa nodded.
‘And your solicitor – how are you getting on with him?’
‘He keeps trying to stop me from saying things.’
‘I think you should listen to him. He’s looking after your best interests.’
‘But I killed Brian, so why doesn’t he want me to tell them?’
‘The law’s very complicated. What you say now may have an effect on your, er, future,’ Zoe said, shying away from words like trial and sentence.
‘Doctor Moreland, I don’t care how long they lock me up for. I deserve it.’
‘Please don’t say that. You’re still in shock.’
Lisa shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. I truly don’t mind how long I go to prison for, as long as I can keep my baby.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather someone looked after it for you?’
‘Have it adopted, you mean? I can’t do that. It’s mine.’
‘No, I’m not talking about adoption. Isn’t there someone – your mother or a sister perhaps – who could help you with it?’
‘I don’t have any family,’ Lisa stared down at her hands. ‘Brian was the only one. But now I’ll have my baby.’
‘There must be someone I can contact for you. You’re only young, so I expect your grandparents are still alive. Where are they?’
‘I already told the police - there’s no one. Why are you all keeping on at me?’ Lisa scanned the room, as if looking for a way to break out.
‘Lisa, I’m only trying to help.’
‘I can’t stand all these questions.’
‘Let’s change the subject, shall we?’ Zoe placated the girl by asking about her cell and what she had been given to eat. When Lisa was making eye contact again and seemed less agitated, Zoe brought out the photograph Mather had given her.
‘The police found this in Brian’s wallet,’ she said, holding it up to the glass. ‘I think I know now why he didn’t want you to have his child.’
Lisa reached towards the photograph and let out a wail. ‘I told him we wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.’
She fell across the table in front of her, a hand thudding against the glass partition.
Zoe sprang to her feet and peered anxiously into the small room where Lisa had slid off the table on to the floor. The constable hit a panic button in the wall next to him then rushed over to the girl and gently rearranged her into the recovery position. Zoe banged on the glass partition to attract his attention.
‘Let me in, please. I’m a doctor.’
After a moment’s hesitation, he did what she asked. She knelt down beside Lisa and checked her pulse. Lisa moaned.
Footsteps came running into the room, but when Zoe looked up she did not see a uniform or Mather’s suit. Instead, a man wearing a leather blazer and cream chinos stood over them. He carried a slim briefcase and smelt of expensive aftershave.
‘What have you done to my client?’ he asked.
‘I’m a doctor,’ Zoe said. ‘She fainted.’
‘I know who you are, Doctor Moreland. I am questioning whether you have any right to be speaking to Mrs Humphreys in the absence of prior reference to her legal council.’
Zoe was distracted from replying by Lisa trying to sit up. ‘Stay down for a while longer, until you’re feeling better,’ she instructed.
Mather and Sergeant Trent appeared at the door and several other faces crowded in behind them.
‘Is she all right?’ Mather asked.
‘I really must insist that you and I speak, Detective Chief Inspector,’ the solicitor said. He looked down at Lisa with pity, as though she were a homeless person begging on the street. She tried again to sit up, this time succeeding. Sergeant Trent rushed forward and helped her back on to her chair.
‘In which case, Mr Kossoff, please join me,’ Mather said, turning towards the door.
‘Doctor Moreland should also be there,’ Kossoff said, ‘as what I have to say pertains as much to her behaviour as it does to your own.’
Zoe looked at Lisa, who had regained a little colour and was taking sips of water from a plastic cup Trent had given her.
‘I’ll look after her,’ Trent said. ‘Now then, don’t you go all wobbly on me, bonny lass.’
Kossoff stood back to let Zoe pass through the door into the corridor before him, then handed her a stiff, embossed business card as they followed Mather along the corridor to another interview room. Once there, the solicitor sat down, placing his briefcase on the table in front of him. Mather waited until Zoe had taken her seat before pulling out a chair for himself.
‘Detective Chief Inspector, I wish to put on record my protestations at your permitting my client to be interviewed without notifying me first. And furthermore, that the interview was carried out by someone who is not even a member of your staff.’
Zoe studied Kossoff as he spoke. His eyes were a little too large for his face, while his nose was a tad too small. He sat up very straight in his chair.
Mather held up his hand. ‘Mr Kossoff, we aren’t in court now. There’s no need for the adversarial tone.’
‘I wasn’t interviewing her,’ Zoe said. ‘She’d asked to see me and we were simply talking.’
‘I had advised her to speak with no one without my being present. The police were fully cognisant of that fact.’
‘Well I wasn’t,’ Zoe said.
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ Mather said. ‘Mr Kossoff, you have my assurance we let Doctor Moreland see your client because that was what Mrs Humphreys wished.’
‘And, I fully expect,’ Kossoff said, reaching forward to open his briefcase locks loudly and simultaneously, ‘because it suited your purpose to have someone else try to find out about matters you yourselves have failed to clarify.’
Zoe waited for the solicitor to produce something from the briefcase, but he did not. Instead, he ostentatiously turned it to prevent her from seeing its contents and continued berating Mather. Had he not been so officious, Zoe might have agreed with him. After all, Mather had asked for her help in uncovering the Humphreys’ past.
Then Kossoff rounded on her too. ‘And you, Doctor Moreland, should be ashamed. You have allowed yourself to be inveigled into taking part in the interrogation of my client when she obviously looks upon you as a trusted confidante.’
Zoe remained silent. She had already stated her case.
Once again Mather raised a hand and addressed Kossoff. ‘Please, Chris, can we return to the wellbeing of your client? I’m sure that’s your prime consideration. She has admitted stabbing her husband and the evidence appears to support this. However, I don’t believe she’s telling us everything, and more background information may influence the Procurator Fiscal’s decision as to what she’s actually charged with.’
Receiving no further argument from Kossoff, Mather returned his gaze to Zoe. ‘Doctor Moreland, please tell us what led to Mrs Humphreys fainting. Was it something in particular?’
Kossoff scowled but allowed Zoe to respond.
‘I showed her a photograph of two young children with her late husband,’ she said, hoping Kossoff would not ask how she came by it. ‘She cried out, muttered something about not being able to keep it secret, and keeled over.’
‘What did she mean?’ Kossoff asked, curiosity for once overcoming his tendency to extend sentences beyond their natural length.
‘I thought the children were Brian’s from a previous marriage, which might explain why he didn’t want Lisa to have her baby. But her reaction was so extreme I’m not sure now.’
‘In which case,’ Mather said, getting to his feet, ‘if your client feels well enough, I’d like to interview her again and try to get to the bottom of this. With you present, of course, and perhaps you may consider it helpful to have Doctor Moreland join us? She is a medical doctor, after all, and can advise on your client’s fitness to be interviewed.’
Giving Kossoff no opportunity to object, Mather held the door open for Zoe and followed her through it, leaving the solicitor to scurry behind them.
Lisa had been taken to another room where only a table separated her from Zoe and Mather. Kossoff sat beside his client and explained she could ask at any time for the interview to cease if she felt unwell, adding that Zoe was present as an observer, not a participant, and Lisa had only to say if she did not want her there.
Mather produced the photograph, which he must have retrieved during the confusion after Lisa fainted. ‘Mrs Humphreys,’ he said gently, ‘please tell us why this photograph upset you so much.’
Lisa chewed her lower lip and stared across the table at Zoe. ‘Doctor Moreland knows,’ she said eventually.
Kossoff made a gesture permitting Zoe to speak.
‘These children,’ Zoe said, ‘they’re Brian’s, aren’t they?’
Lisa nodded, tears starting to course down her face. ‘Yes,’ she said in a voice so low everyone else had to lean forward to hear her. ‘That’s me and Ben. My brother.’
Zoe, Mather and Kossoff sat in silence. All three of them worked in professions which frequently exposed them to other people’s transgressions and weaknesses, yet Zoe could see the men were as stunned by Lisa’s revelation as she was herself.
Mather studied the back wall of the room, while Kossoff tentatively placed a hand on his client’s shoulder. Zoe contemplated the photograph of Brian and his children which lay on the table. Although the round-faced, dark-haired toddler holding a bucket and spade bore only a slight resemblance to the grown-up Lisa, familiarity with this image of her much younger self had made her assume others were able to spot the likeness as easily.
Kossoff said, ‘I think my client and I need to speak in private.’
‘Of course,’ Mather said. ‘May I ask one further question?’