‘You are suspended with immediate effect, pending investigation. Depending on the outcome of said investigation, we will reconvene in a week for either a misconduct meeting or a disciplinary hearing. You are advised to contact your local Fed rep.’ He looked to the woman beside him. ‘Is there anything you want to add?’
Detective Inspector Ling, despite a surname that hinted at oriental heritage, was a pale-skinned red-haired woman with hazel eyes. Cold hazel eyes that looked Beth over as if she were some form of repugnant pond life. ‘These are extremely serious allegations, DI Anderson,’ Ling said with a deep voice at odds with her slim frame. ‘The Crown Prosecution Service has indicated that it may put a number of convictions in jeopardy. If the allegations are proven, they will, they say, push for a custodial sentence for this offence. In view of that, I have had no option but to report the matter to the Independent Office for Police Conduct. They have indicated they are willing to run a managed investigation which allows me to continue under their direction.’ She looked at Benton. ‘I’m assuming you are satisfied with that, sir?’
He, as much as any of the others, knew her question was a formality; he had no power to dictate to the IOPC how they did their job. ‘Perfectly,’ he said with a slight smile in her direction before looking back at Beth. ‘DI Anderson, you are not to speak to other officers about this matter. Collect your belongings and leave the premises immediately. It is possible you are already aware that your password no longer works. All rights and privileges attendant to your position are also suspended pending the investigation.’
Beth wanted to ask if that meant she couldn’t use her police pass for the local gym but she thought they might think the question was frivolous so kept her mouth shut. It was the only privilege she could think of. Maybe she’d been missing out.
‘Do you have any questions?’ Benton asked finally.
She couldn’t think of one. No doubt she would have some later when the numbness of shock had worn off but now, in a weedy voice she barely recognised as her own, she said, ‘No, sir.’
‘Fine, in that case this preliminary meeting is adjourned and will reconvene in one week. Your Fed rep will advise you what form the next meeting will take.’ He dropped his eyes to the papers on the desk, sorting them into one neat pile. DI Ling spoke to Chief Inspector Dowling who sat to her right.
It was a few seconds before Beth realised she’d been dismissed. Feeling a flush of colour on her cheeks, she stood and turned for the door. Her legs were trembling. She willed them to keep going. Making it to the door, she reached for the handle, her sweaty palm sliding on the metal. God, what if she couldn’t get out? How much more mortification could she take? She quickly wiped her hand on the sleeve of her jacket and tried again. This time, the handle moved, the door opened, and she was out, standing in the corridor, a sick feeling in her stomach, her head swimming. She waited, trying to regain some equilibrium before moving away.
She was under investigation.
20
Beth kept her head down as she returned to the squad room. It was busy, officers milling about, on their computers, on the phone, gossiping, complaining. Forcing herself to take her time, she picked up her bag and keys and walked calmly to the door. She chanced a look around when she got there; nobody was looking in her direction.
The few people she passed in the corridors and stairway as she left greeted her with the same casualness as usual. Word hadn’t got out yet. But it would. Within a few hours, everyone would know she’d been suspended. Worse, everyone would speculate as to why. Conclusions would be reached, some might even be right, most would be way off the mark.
Sitting in her car, she realised she was trembling too much to drive. She’d liked to have gone into a pub and drunk her way into oblivion, but she needed to ring her Fed rep and he or she mightn’t be impressed if she couldn’t string two words together. Instead, she got out and headed towards a local café, changing her mind at the last moment and walking on. The place was too popular with staff from the station, she was bound to see someone she knew. She kept walking, feeling the shock fade with every step so that ten minutes later when she saw a café she’d never tried before, she was feeling a little calmer.
Ordering a double espresso, she took it to a seat as far from the window as she could, sat and took out her mobile. Who to ring? Graham would have been the first name on the list. In truth, he still was. Maybe he’d be pleased she was suspended, and he would come back. It was her job that had been a problem for him. She could ring the gym where he worked, ask to speak to him, tell him she’d been suspended… suspended… She suddenly felt sick, holding her hand to her mouth, she gulped. After a few seconds, she swallowed and sat back.
No, she wasn’t going to ring Graham and have him return out of a sense of pity. Because, he would, she knew he would. He knew how much her job meant to her; he knew how devastated she’d be. He’d come back and she’d never know if he was going to stay. Worse, he’d ask if the allegations were true and she’d have to admit they were, and be forced to tell him she was facing a custodial sentence. A custodial sentence. He’d be horrified, shocked, disappointed. Appalled. What she had done, what they suspected she had done, it would appal him, and he’d leave her anyway. Better not to tell him yet. She’d have to eventually, would certainly have to if she got sent down, he’d have to sort out the house and the finances.
Smiling at how prosaic her thoughts had turned, she finished her coffee, feeling a little stronger. It would have been nice to just sit there, drink coffee, maybe have a slice of cake or a sandwich, pretend it was an ordinary day. It would have been nice. But it was impossible. She picked up her phone and scrawled through her contacts for a number she thought she’d never have to use, and with a quick look around to make sure there was nobody she knew within eavesdropping distance, she dialled the Police Federation.
She gave the person who answered a quick synopsis of her situation and was then put on hold for so long she was about to hang up in frustration when a deep voice with a pronounced Welsh lilt spoke.
‘Is that DI Anderson?’
What? Did he think she’d given the phone to someone else because she’d been kept waiting? She shut her eyes briefly and took a calming breath. It wasn’t his fault she was in this fucking mess, after all. ‘Yes,’ she said and waited.
‘It sounds like you’re in a spot of trouble.’
A spot of trouble? Her fingers tightened on the phone as she tried to think of something cutting to say but, instead, she laughed, a short humourless sound that was quickly over. Maybe he was right and she was getting upset for no reason. Although he didn’t know the details as yet, calling it a spot of trouble put it into perspective; it would be sorted and things would return to normal. They were only trying to scare her with their talk of a custodial sentence. More likely, she’d be ordered to follow some pathetic improvement plan for a few months. It would be irritating and embarrassing but she’d do anything to stay in her job, losing it didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you could say that.’
‘My name is, Medwyn Kendrick, I’ll be your Fed rep. It sounds like you’re in a public place so best not to discuss anything now. But the sooner I can hear what the allegations against you are, the sooner I can start the ball rolling to get it all sorted, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Beth said, feeling relieved. ‘I was heading home but I can come into your office if you want.’
‘It’s easier if I come to your place,’ he said, and without waiting for her agreement asked for her postcode and house number. ‘I’ll be there in an hour.’ Again without waiting for a yay or nay, he hung up.
Beth pocketed her phone and checked her watch. If she left straight away, she’d make it just in time.
As it turned out, she was quicker than she’d expected and pushed open her front door with twenty minutes to spare. Restless, she made coffee and stood staring out of the sitting-room window with a mug in her hand. She watched a car pass b
y about ten minutes later and knew straight away it was him. He was in luck and found parking a hundred yards up the street. She craned her neck to see him but it was a few minutes before the car door opened and he got out, an overstuffed briefcase under one arm.
Kendrick was a small stocky man with a shock of thick black hair and, she noted, when she opened her front door, startlingly blue eyes. ‘Hi,’ she said, standing back and waving him in, directing him towards the open kitchen door. ‘Would you like some coffee or tea?’
‘Coffee, black, three sugars.’ He moved into the dining area, put the well-worn bulging briefcase on the floor, took off his jacket, hung it on the back of a chair, and sat at the table, looking around with assessing eyes.
Beth wondered, gritting her teeth, if he were calculating how much everything cost to see if she was living beyond a copper’s salary. Perhaps she should point out her seven-year-old rusty Suzuki and the threadbare carpet in the sitting room. He was on her side, she reminded herself as she made the coffee. Putting a mug in front of him, she took the chair opposite and waited to hear what he had to say.
‘Okay,’ Kendrick said, pulling a blank A4 pad from his briefcase and squaring it up on the table in front of him. He tapped a pen on the empty page. ‘First, tell me everything you can remember about the meeting this morning. Who was there and what was said?’
It wasn’t difficult, the meeting and every word said was etched in Beth’s mind. Without hesitating, she gave an accurate account of everything that had occurred, from the moment she had arrived at the station, the names of those present at the meeting and what each had said.
‘There were four people at it?’ He raised an eyebrow when she muttered yes.
Beth felt fear clutching her insides when she saw his worried expression. ‘That’s bad, is it?’
Kendrick tapped the pad with the end of his pen. ‘There’s no point in my prettying things up to make you feel better,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s important for you to know exactly what’s going on so that you can make the correct decision if needed, okay?’
She licked her lips. ‘Okay.’
‘Three senior officers plus someone from Professional Standards at a preliminary meeting tells me this is serious, DI Anderson.’ His blue eyes bored into hers. ‘Why don’t you tell me exactly what you did. And please,’ he added, keeping his eyes locked on hers, ‘if you want me to do the best for you, tell me absolutely everything.’
Beth hugged her coffee mug to her chest and tried to put her thoughts in order. Where to start? She wondered what he would say if she said she needed to go back twenty years, to the lie that had persuaded her that this was a worthy career choice.
‘I’m on your side, remember,’ he said, when she hadn’t spoken for a few minutes. ‘Whatever you tell me, I’ll do the best I can to support you and get you through this.’
Putting the mug down, Beth crossed her arms. ‘Okay. They seem to think I gave some of the victims information about their alleged attackers.’
He looked at his notes. ‘On at least two occasions? Is that correct?’
She shrugged one shoulder. ‘That’s what they said.’
‘And did you?’
‘I wouldn’t be the only–’
He held up his hand, interrupting her. ‘You’re the only one under investigation. It won’t help your case if you say you broke regulations because others did, DI Anderson.’
‘It’s Beth,’ she said tiredly. ‘Okay, yes, I did give a couple of women some information that would have helped make their cases stronger.’
‘How many times?’
She shrugged, both shoulders this time, as if shifting the weight of the accusations. ‘I don’t know.’
‘More than the twice they inferred?’
When he continued to stare, his blue eyes unblinking as he waited for her to answer, she sat back and met his gaze. ‘Okay, several times. It’s difficult to say because sometimes it was just a suggestion rather than anything specific.’
‘What kind of suggestion? Give me one example, so I can see what we’re dealing with.’
She took a breath to calm her nerves. ‘Last week before a court case, I was speaking to the victim. She was worried that if they asked her how she was so sure the accused was the assailant she wouldn’t be able to say. I reminded her of a comment she’d made about his rather protuberant brown eyes.’
‘And that was it?’
‘It was enough.’
‘And where did you speak to her precisely?’
Her hesitation was clear and it spoke volumes. She guessed there was no point in lying. ‘I called around to her house.’
‘Did you log this visit?’ Kendrick asked, scribbling a note on his pad. ‘You didn’t,’ he said when she stayed silent. ‘Where else did you give these suggestions?’
‘After they’d given their statement.’
He frowned. ‘But that would be on record.’
‘I’d wait until we left the room.’
Kendrick tapped the pad again. ‘There’s no CCTV in the corridor outside?’
Beth shook her head.
He frowned. ‘So far, I haven’t heard anything that would justify the level of seriousness they’re approaching this with, which leads me to believe that either they’re losing the plot or you’re not telling me everything.’ Once again, Kendrick fixed her with his eyes until she lowered hers and looked away. ‘Tell me what you’re leaving out, Beth. Prepared, I’m better able to fight your corner.’
Standing abruptly, she went to the sitting room and returned moments later with the half-full whiskey bottle. She waved it at him, unsurprised when he shook his head. Pouring a large measure for herself, she sat and took a mouthful. ‘Do you know how many sexual predators get off because of lack of evidence?’
‘Too many,’ he guessed.
She raised her glass in a toast to his correct answer. ‘Way too many. They leave a trail of devastated victims, their families, friends, loved ones. With no evidence, our hands are tied.’
Kendrick looked at her for a moment, then shut his eyes and dropped his pen. ‘You planted evidence?’
She waited a beat before nodding slowly. ‘Only when I was one hundred per cent sure we had the right man.’
‘And you think that vindicates your actions?’ He rubbed a hand over his chin. ‘That’s why they were out in force, why the Professional Standards officer felt she had to inform the IOPC. It’s mandatory when the case might result in a criminal prosecution.’
Criminal prosecution? She gulped. Maybe they weren’t using scare tactics after all. ‘You think it’ll come to that?’
‘If they can prove you planted evidence that resulted in prosecution, I’m positive it will. But they have to prove it.’ For a few seconds neither of them spoke, and then he picked up the pen he’d dropped and put it in his pocket. ‘With your permission, I’ll speak to one of our retained solicitors.’ He waited for her nod before continuing. ‘They might be able to save you from a prison sentence,’ he said slowly, ‘but I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept the truth. Your police career is over.’
He stood and looked down at her. ‘If anyone contacts you, refer them to me. Do not, under any circumstance, engage them in conversation, do you understand?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, packing the pad back into his briefcase and fastening it with a snap. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said and let himself out.
21
Beth didn’t move from the table for a long time. It was tempting to drink the remainder of the whiskey but she knew getting drunk wasn’t the answer. Problem was, she didn’t think there were any answers to her growing list of dilemmas. A glance at the kitchen clock startled her. It was only one o’clock. A lot had happened in such a short space of time.
What was she going to do now?
As if on cue, her phone chirped. It was tempting to ignore it, there was nobody she wanted to speak to, nobody who would understand. When it stopped, she let out the breath she’d been holding and
swore softly when it rang again.
Picking it up, she saw DS Kadam’s name. Beth hesitated before answering. Was she ringing with sympathy or reproach, to commiserate or condemn? After her meeting with Kendrick, Beth didn’t think she was ready for either, but maybe it was time to start facing up to the reality of her situation. She slid her thumb across the phone to answer. ‘Hi,’ she said and waited.
‘Beth, I’ve just heard.’ Sunita Kadam’s voice was barely above a whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…’
Beth took a deep breath before replying. ‘Thank you, but it’s okay. My Fed rep was just here. Thank you for ringing but it would be better if you didn’t ring again.’ She was about to hang up when she heard a quickly whispered, Wait!
She heard louder voices and then Sunita’s quiet whisper again. ‘I thought you should know that Arthur Lewis is dead.’
‘What!’ Beth gripped her phone tighter, holding it closer to her ear. ‘How? When?’
‘Last night. Neighbours heard screams and rang the police. When they arrived, they found the front door open, Lewis lying on the floor in a pool of blood and a man standing over him.’
Beth didn’t have to ask who it was. A leaden weight seemed to have become lodged in her chest.
Sunita was oblivious and continued in the same whisper. ‘It’s Bruno Forest, Beth. Lydia’s father. He killed him.’
She wanted to hang up, switch off her phone and hide. If they found out she’d given him Lewis’ address there was a long list of charges they could throw at her. A custodial sentence would be a given. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘thanks for letting me know, Sunita. I appreciate it.’ Beth waited a beat before adding, ‘If you could let me know what happens, I’d be extremely grateful.’ She listened to Sunita’s emphatic assurances before saying goodbye and hanging up.
The Three Women Page 13
