by K O'Hanlon
Officer Bentley and his colleague left Mike’s office feeling rather chastised but the questions had to be put to Mr Richards business partner to see his reaction. They were now back where they started and that was in trying to find enough evidence to convict Mr James Russell. A maximum sentence of 14 years could be handed down for driving while under the influence if it involved a fatality.
Sam was sitting in his basement apartment, constantly alert whenever he heard footsteps outside. He wasn’t sure what James had told the police. Maybe James had told the whole story and was now acting out a role with them to help catch him for his deception. But surely the police wouldn’t drop a murder charge in favour of internet deception. Everyone knew about internet scams they were in the news constantly but they never made the major headlines. People lost large sums of money to fake lovers then cried their eyes out when they realised it was a trick and their ugly fat faces were just that, ugly and fat.
Sam needed to know everything but it mustn’t look as though the information was very important to him. He decided to contact Mike and see if there was any more news.
Mike picked up his phone on the second ring. “Yeah, Sam, what is it?”
“Hi, I just wanted to know if you had any news. Have the police arrested anyone yet? I keep thinking about it. I didn’t know Ben but I know he was your best mate, you must be really upset. How’s Toni holding up? I’m just sitting at home staring at the wall I don’t really know what I can do to help.”
“There’s no news and there’s nothing you can do. Toni will be fine she has plenty to keep her occupied with the wedding arrangements. Make sure you attend your suit fitting tomorrow and be on time. The poor man has had to juggle his appointments to fit you in. And by the way, your cheque arrived today from the magazine so you might want to collect it when you’re passing.”
Mike hung up before Sam could say anything else. Sam thought, that’s typical Mike, dismiss people by pressing a button, even your own family. But hey, the cheque for £2,000 had arrived so life was on the up.
Mike stared at his phone after hanging up. He really needed to do something about Sam. He could probably find a position in his firm but would his brother be reliable, would he take orders from anyone knowing that his big brother owned the company? Would he be more trouble than he's worth? He would think about it, maybe ask if anyone was needed to help with design. He knew that Sam wasn’t stupid, his artwork wasn’t great but he was a good photographer. His main fault was laziness.
He jotted a quick note on his pad, something else to deal with in the morning. Maybe Sam’s photographic skills could be used but it meant inventing a job that probably wasn’t really necessary though it could work and he was after all, part of the family.
James was on the mend and waiting to be discharged so he could go home. His little old lady friend who lived next door had been taking care of his dog after hearing about his accident. Mary was a good soul and had taken Scamp into her house on a couple of occasions when James was away on business or if he worked late. It was at times like this that he was glad she had a key.
Doctor Simpson entered the room to do a final check on his patient. “Hello, Mr Russell. You can go home today providing your chart doesn’t give me any reason to keep you here longer.” He ran his eyes quickly over the medical chart and squiggled something at the bottom. “Yes it all looks fine but you might have pain in your ribs for a few more days yet. You can buy some over the counter medication to help deal with that just don’t do any heavy lifting for a couple of weeks. I’ll send in a nurse to remove your stitched and help you dress and then you’re free to go. Good day Mr Russell.”
“Thank you doc, I’ll take it easy.”
A nurse arrived to carry out Doctor Simpson’s instructions. In one hand she carried a pair of dark grey jogging bottoms with a small rip in the pocket and the arse. In her other hand was a black tee shirt with large white cracked lettering on the front that said Free Nelson Mandela.
“We had to cut away your clothing when you were brought in by the paramedics but your shoes were saved and I found these joggers and tee shirt in lost property that I think might fit someone of your height without pressing too hard on your ribs. I’m sorry they’re not in better condition but it’s just to get you home then you can throw them away. I’ll remove your stitches first then we’ll see how it goes.”
James was glad he had several days growth of beard on his face to hide behind if he was to leave the hospital in that outfit.
He hadn’t even got as far as the exit when he saw Officer Bentley walking towards him with a young woman police officer.
“Mr James Russell, I’m arresting you for the death of Mr Benjamin Richards.”
Just at that point Bentley’s phone rang and he looked at it before turning away to take the call. His wife had gone into labour with their first child. His sister in law was telling him to get home quick as the baby was coming fast. There was no time to get his wife to hospital, so hurry.
“Call another car to take him in, I need to get home urgent, I’m about to become a dad.”
The young woman officer called for another car to come from the station and pick them up. After only two weeks on the force she wasn’t sure what she should do next. She fumbled with handcuffs but gave up when she locked them to her trouser loop and couldn’t find the key. Luckily for her James didn’t run off, he just stood next to her outside the hospital waiting for another police car to arrive.
The litter bin they stood next to just outside the entrance was overflowing with paper coffee cups, cigarette stubs, and an out of date newspaper. James pulled the coffee stained paper from the bin. He hadn’t watched or read any news articles about the case. He was curious to find out more about the beautiful woman who he had seen at the police station. He recognised her as Samantha25, the person he had fallen head over heels in love with on Chessbyte. She was the lady he had literally killed for. Why then had a man referred to her as Toni, and where did Sam fit into all this?
As the marked police car pulled up near the entrance both he and the WPC made their way towards it. James got in the back, clicked his seat belt in place and started reading the paper. The news headline was all about a stabbing in the town’s multi-storey carpark. Further down the page was a small article that was more interesting. It was obviously no longer headline news but the name of Benjamin Richards caught his eye. Police had called it a hit and run. The article also mentioned the business partner of Mr Richards as being Mr Michael Fairchild whose wedding to Miss Antonia Bellingham would still be going ahead as planned with Mr Samuel Fairchild stepping in as best man.
James was starting to put all the facts together in his head. He had never actually met Samantha in person. There was always a reason why she couldn’t meet up with him. The woman he now knew to be Toni Bellingham hadn’t recognised him at all at the station even though he had sent her a picture when he knew her as Samantha25. He now knew she was single but engaged to Mr Michael Fairchild. So there was lie number one which in itself opened up a whole new can of worms. James now knew for certain that he’d been used but he didn’t know why. Was it just for some perverted form of fun or was there more to it. He had killed a man for fucks sake. But for what, and for whom?
They arrived at the police station and James was immediately taken to an interview room. DI Potter followed him in and sat down opposite. Another officer sat next to DI Potter but James didn’t listen when he said who he was. Neither man made any mention of his attire and scruffy beard, they had seen much worse in their time on the force.
James felt obliged to say something regarding his form of dress so as not to be treated like a common street criminal. It was at times like this that his poker skills could be used to their full effect. James was quite a good poker player and his face gave nothing away.
“The nurse found this outfit in lost property for me to be discharged in as my clothing had to be cut off me. If you intend keeping me here, gentlemen, I’m afrai
d I didn’t bring an overnight bag.”
DI Potter’s facial expression didn’t waver but the officer next to him gave a little chuckle at the mention of an overnight bag. He wasn’t sure if the man was being serious, sarcastic, or just taking the piss.
DI Potter started the recording machine, stated the time and date and who was present before he spoke to James.
“Mr Russell, please state your full name clearly for the record.”
“My name is James Robert Russell.”
“Mr Russell you have been arrested in connection with the hit and run that killed Mr Benjamin Richards. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Would you like to appoint a solicitor, Mr Russell? You may use your own if you have one, failing that we can arrange one for you.”
“I’ve never been involved in any criminal activities in my entire life so I really don’t know the procedure but yes I guess it would be in my best interest to have someone to advise me. I would like Mr Vivian Turnbull of Turnbull and Stevens to represent me if possible.”
James had been good friends with Vivian when they were at university together. They shared a small house and split the cost between them. They had some really great times together. Vivian had studied law and was now regarded as a top criminal lawyer. James had studied journalism but never finished the course. Vivian was best man at his wedding. The two of them still exchanged Christmas cards each year although rarely saw each other now. Their last contact had been by phone when his wife died after falling on steak knives in the dishwasher.
Arrangements were made with Mr Turnbull’s secretary. James was told he could go home but he must return tomorrow at 2pm when his solicitor will be present at the station and the interview would continue. There were obviously no spare rooms at the police station inn or he might have been thrown into a cell for the night, with or without an overnight bag.
Vivian Turnbull arranged to meet James at the police station before 2 o’clock to give him time to be brought up to speed on the case so far. They met in the waiting area and James told his friend what had happened since his car was stolen.
“They arrested me but didn’t lock me up, why was that?”
“They obviously didn’t have enough evidence to charge you within the 24 hour time period from your arrest.”
James knew he could never tell Vivian the truth. Even as a good friend he would have no option but to decline the case.
They were called to the interview room at exactly 2pm. James sat with Vivian on one side of the table and DI Potter sat opposite with Officer Bentley.
Vivian Turnbull started talking as soon as he sat down. He was in no mood for small talk. “Is my client still under arrest?”
Potter avoided looking at him but kept his eye on James. “Not at this moment in time, no.” If Potter was hoping for a reaction from James Russell he was disappointed. “Mr Russell was arrested yesterday as he was leaving hospital because we believed him to be the driver of the vehicle on the evening in question. We also believe he had been drinking heavily when his car hit and killed Mr Richards. Samples taken from Mr Russell’s car have so far come back positive to him.”
Vivian Turnbull looked straight at Potter. “So far? So are you saying that not all of the samples taken from the vehicle have come back yet with results?”
“We are still awaiting results from two items.”
“May I ask what those two items are?”
“I am in charge of this interview, Mr Turnbull, and I would appreciate it if you could refrain from questioning me! However, according to information I received this morning the items are listed as one coat and one pair of shoes.”
James looked up at that point. “I didn’t leave a coat and shoes in my car.”
Vivian asks. “Why are the coat and shoes taking so long at the lab?”
“Because the lab has other crimes to process and they found multiple samples on the coat which now need to be run through our system.”
“And what of the shoes, DI Potter?”
“Nothing was found on the shoes matching Mr Russell.”
“It looks to me like you are barking up the wrong tree, DI Potter. You also have no evidence that puts my client at the scene on the night Mr Richards was killed. You have now stated that forensic samples from objects belonging to, as yet, unknown third parties, have been found on items inside Mr Russell’s stolen vehicle. I strongly suggest you save the taxpayer a huge sum of money and drop this ridiculous circus act right now.”
Potter knew Turnbull’s reputation in the criminal justice system. He would be ruthless in court if the case were to get that far. He also knew he had nothing solid on Mr Russell, in fact he now doubted his own judgement having given the order to arrest the man. Turnbull had just labelled him a clown and he was starting to believe him. “Ok, Mr Turnbull. Your client is free to go.”
Vivian Turnbull and James Russell left the station and walked out into the afternoon sunshine.
James hugged his friend. “Thank you. You’re a good friend, I owe you one.”
“Keep your nose clean, James. There’s no sell by date on prosecution. Take care my friend.”
DI Potter took the crime file back to his office and threw it into the tray with other unsolved crimes. It was now just one of many that would work its way to the bottom of the pile until such time as it was filed in the cold case draw. He pretty much knew that it would end like this after receiving news from the lab that morning. That’s why he let Turnbull take control of the interview to get it over with quicker. Time was money and his force was short of both.
A light tap on Potter’s office door and Bentley stuck his head in. “Why did you let Turnbull take control of the questions, Sir?”
“Because I know Turnbull and without solid proof and a reliable witness he’ll tear the case apart. He would make the department look like a bunch of idiots. He’d call you to the stand and tear you a new one.”
“How so?”
“You left a rookie policewoman alone with a man you had just arrested on a possible murder charge. He would use that to discredit you professionally.”
“How would he do that sir?”
“Think about it, Bentley. Who in their right mind would leave a new female recruit of only two weeks on the force with a suspected killer? It shows your lack of judgement. It also shows that you don’t see Mr Russell as a danger to anyone. And given that he didn’t make a run for it when the rookie locked her cuffs to her own trousers only adds to Russell’s credibility.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that sir.”
Potter’s voice got louder as his temper flared. “Don’t ever leave a new recruit alone with a suspect again!”
“But my wife was giving birth to my baby daughter, Sir.”
“I don’t care if she was giving birth to the baby fucking Jesus!”
James breathed a big sigh of relief and walked back into the station. He now needed to know when or if his insurers could have his vehicle fixed. He asked the officer behind the desk when his car would be released.
The officer put the information in his computer system to get a reference number. “Here you are, Mr Russell. Give your insurers this reference and they can contact us about your vehicle though I doubt it will be released soon as the investigation is still active according to my files here.”
“Ok, thank you. Do you know if my work files were still in the boot when my car was found?”
“Yes, Sir, according to my screen here there were two box files and a large container of new stationary found in the boot of the vehicle.”
“Thanks again officer, I’ll get back to you when I know what my insurers are doing.”
James had deliberately left those files and the container in his boot so he had an idea as to whether his car was found a
s he had left it or if the locals had been inside it taking anything they could get their hands on. He now knew the police had found the coat and shoes so that was a bonus. No doubt they had also taken prints and samples from the gear stick, door handle and steering wheel and found traces of leather from the gloves. Without a reliable witness or CCTV clearly showing his face the police would be going round in circles with the amount of forensic material that needed processing from his charity shop purchases.
Now the questions in his head needed answers. Someone knew what he’d done and they knew who he was. He had to find that person and silence them or spend the rest of his life waiting for the hammer to fall.
Several weeks passed and still James was no nearer finding the person whom he’d known as Samantha25 online. The only names he had were the two Fairchild brothers, the wealthiest of which was now married to Antonia Bellingham. He didn’t know where the dead man named as Benjamin Richards had fitted into the puzzle. Samuel Fairchild would have been high on his list of suspects if it had been his brother Michael who was killed. Maybe it was Michael Fairchild who wanted his partner Ben Richards gone. Was Ben Richards having an affair with Antonia Bellingham? Did Antonia want Ben out of the way so he didn’t throw a spanner in the works and upset her planned wedding to the very wealthy Michael Fairchild? Benjamin Richards was equally wealthy so that made no sense unless he wasn’t interested in marriage. All these questions went round and round in his head. He had to know the truth and to do that he could no longer be the mouse. The time had come to be the cat.
