A Price to Pay

by Paul Gitsham

  ‘No comment.’

  Warren pushed a sheet of paper across the desk.

  ‘Your accounts make for interesting reading. The spreadsheet that you use to record your expenses doesn’t match your handwritten ledger. At first, I assumed that you were just under-reporting your figures to dodge a bit of tax. But you aren’t, are you? You’re deliberately keeping some cash back to pay the wages of your illegal workers.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Which also explains why you had the presence of mind to tell Malina to smash the rear camera and delete any footage from that camera. That’s why she phoned your business phone isn’t it? This was a well-rehearsed plan in case you were raided by the Home Office or Revenue and Customs, wasn’t it?’

  Wilson repeated, ‘No comment.’ But Warren could see in her eyes that he’d worked out her plan.

  ‘Where did you take that young woman, Silvija?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘What was in the bin bag?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Now his tone softened. ‘It would help you, and your nieces, if you could tell us, in your own words what really happened that day,’ said Warren.

  By now, Wilson was crying, her fist pressed into her mouth.

  ‘I think we should have a break,’ said Wilson’s solicitor.

  Chapter 31

  The air in the office was quietly triumphant when Warren and Ruskin came back in. Even DSI Grayson was in a good mood.

  ‘Good work, Warren,’ he said. ‘My gut tells me that we’re going to finally figure out what happened that day. I suspect we’re also going to make some people in Immigration very happy.’

  Warren thanked him. By contrast, he wasn’t quite so sure; Wilson had been beaten and thrown against the ropes, but he’d seen the determined set of her chin, and witnessed the stubborn streak that ran deep through her family. Whatever Wilson was going to tell them after the break, he suspected that it would be a carefully controlled version of the truth.

  Silvija Wilson’s break with her solicitor lasted until shortly after midday. When they finally signalled their return, it was clear that they had been busy.

  ‘I would like to read a statement on behalf of Mrs Wilson,’ stated the solicitor formally for the record. He had a small laptop in front of him, which he read from.

  ‘Mrs Wilson would like to state categorically that she did not play any part in the death of Mr Stevie Cullen, on Monday the 2nd of November. Nor, to the best of her knowledge, were her two nieces, Malina and Biljana Dragić, responsible. The person she believes responsible was a casual employee of the parlour, a Serbian national known only to Mrs Wilson as “Annie”.

  ‘On the day in question, Mrs Wilson drove her two nieces to the parlour as normal. Annie arrived shortly after, entering through the rear entrance. Mrs Wilson also rents space in her parlour to two self-employed nail and beauty technicians. She knows them only as “Lilly” and “Yên”. They arrived just before nine a.m., as witnessed on the security footage.

  ‘After Mrs Wilson departed for the bank that day, Malina and Biljana were left in charge of the parlour, as is normal practice on a weekday. Mrs Wilson then went to the River View care home to visit her father-in-law. Her understanding – as she was not there – was that Mr Cullen visited the parlour for a massage, as scheduled, just before one p.m. Ordinarily, Annie would have finished at midday, but she did a second run of the washing machine to clean some new towels before use. For reasons that Mrs Wilson is not aware of, Mr Cullen attacked Annie, and she defended herself, killing him in the process.’

  Warren watched Wilson carefully. The woman closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping.

  ‘Malina and Biljana heard Annie’s screams and ran in to see what was happening. It was immediately apparent that despite the best efforts of all three women, Mr Cullen could not be saved. Malina and Biljana panicked, and instead of calling the ambulance as they should have done, they called Mrs Wilson for advice.’

  Wilson shifted in her seat, her eyes still closed.

  ‘Mrs Wilson admits that she, and her two nieces, made a serious error of judgement. The two girls were very traumatized by what they had witnessed, and frightened for Annie, to whom they had become very close. They persuaded Mrs Wilson to help Annie flee the scene and concocted a story about an unknown intruder.

  ‘At this point, Mrs Wilson would like to make it clear that the actions of all of them that day, whilst misguided, were a sincere attempt to protect their friend who had been the victim of an unprovoked attack and merely defended herself, with tragic consequences. They were concerned that Annie’s uncertain immigration status may result in her being treated unfairly by the police, a belief that Mrs Wilson acknowledges has no basis in fact.’

  The solicitor took a sip of water, before continuing. Wilson sat unmoving.

  ‘After arriving back at the massage parlour, Mrs Wilson helped her nieces rearrange the crime scene, in an attempt to support the false narrative of an unknown intruder. She then took Annie back to her nieces’ flat to pick up some clothes and a bag. She then drove Annie to the train station, giving her some cash. That was the last time she saw Annie.

  ‘Mrs Wilson is prepared to acknowledge that she should have investigated Annie’s immigration status more carefully and should not have paid her cash in hand. As she did not employ Lilly and Yên directly, she did not believe that it was her responsibility to check their right-to-work. The positioning of the security camera in the reception area was not deliberate, and Lilly, Yên and Annie only entered through the rear of the parlour for convenience.

  ‘Mrs Wilson admits to calling Mr Cullen on several occasions before the day of the murder, as he was supplying her with cheap beauty products for the salon. She realizes on reflection that she should have inquired more carefully as to the origin of these products. This was why she denied previously knowing Mr Cullen.’

  The solicitor sat back, and Warren thanked him for the statement. Wilson looked both relieved and nervous at the same time. It was the most cooperative that she’d been since her arrest, and Warren was unwilling to let her mood change during yet another break, and so looking over his notes, he decided to start questioning immediately. Beside him, Ruskin was busy writing down questions that he’d also thought of. The constable’s handwriting was clear enough that Warren could see that he was thinking along much the same lines.

  ‘You say that Annie was responsible for the killing of Mr Cullen. Obviously, locating Annie has now become our priority. Where did she catch the train to?’

  Wilson shifted in her seat, glancing over at her solicitor. ‘She didn’t say. I dropped her off at the station and she left without telling me where she was going.’

  Warren wasn’t entirely surprised at the answer. Wilson’s statement had been carefully crafted to give the appearance of openness and cooperation, but it was clear that much had been left out. Why was she protecting Annie? The two sisters were non-EU nationals, meaning that the Foreign Office had taken an interest in the case. According to a liaison officer, an emergency visa had been granted to the parents of the two women, and they were expected to arrive later that day. Warren made a note to see if they could shed any light on the identity of the mysterious woman. Did the two sisters have another sibling?

  ‘Perhaps you could help us then, Mrs Wilson. How did you meet Annie?’

  ‘She came to the massage parlour a few months ago, asking for casual work.’ Wilson shifted uncomfortably. ‘We needed a bit of help about the place. Cleaning, washing uniforms and towels, that sort of thing. I agreed to give her a few hours each morning. She was clearly a bit down on her luck and I wanted to help her.’

  ‘How did she know about the massage parlour?’

  ‘The Serbian community is quite close-knit; I suppose somebody recommended me.’

  That might explain why none of the young people they’d traced from Malina and Biljana’s social media posts had admitted to knowing the identity of the young woman. The
y would have been unwilling to incriminate somebody working illegally.

  ‘Where did she live?’

  ‘I don’t know; she never said.’

  ‘So, I assume that you were paying her cash in hand?’

  They already knew from Wilson’s bank and financial details that Malina and Biljana were the only workers drawing a salary from the massage parlour. If Annie had been paid formally, she would have needed a National Insurance number, and Wilson would have needed her address.

  Wilson nodded, looking even more uncomfortable.

  ‘Mrs Wilson has already admitted that she should have been more careful about ascertaining Annie’s immigration status, before employing her,’ said her solicitor.

  ‘Do you know how she arrived at work each day?’

  Wilson shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  It was clear that Wilson wasn’t going to help them any more than necessary.

  ‘Why did you take her back to your nieces’ flat, rather than taking her home to pick up her own clothes?’

  ‘She said her flat was on the other side of town.’

  That implied that she probably needed to use public transport to get to work each day. Warren made a note to get Mags Richardson to check the CCTV on the buses. Between the video footage of her arriving for work each day, and images of her on social media, they had several clear headshots that they could use to locate her.

  ‘You say that Mr Cullen attacked Annie. What can you tell me about that?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Surely Annie said something to you?’

  ‘She was too upset to speak.’

  ‘But you said that Malina and Biljana saw the attack. They must know what happened?’

  ‘They haven’t said anything.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’ Warren allowed a note of scepticism to creep into his tone.

  ‘You are asking Mrs Wilson to speculate on events that she did not personally witness,’ interjected the solicitor.

  Again, Warren wasn’t surprised. Malina and Biljana hadn’t said anything since being charged. Wilson had clearly been advised not to say any more than necessary, to avoid contradicting their statements.

  Warren slid more pages of Wilson’s call logs across the table to her.

  ‘You made multiple phone calls, to several different numbers, between one-forty-five and three o’clock, before driving to the train station. Who were you calling?’

  Wilson looked over at her solicitor. ‘No comment.’

  It was the first ‘no comment’ since she had made her statement. Warren made a note. Identifying the owners of those phones would be a priority.

  ‘When you left the massage parlour with Annie, you were seen carrying a black bin bag. What was in it?’

  Wilson paused. ‘Her uniform top. It was covered in blood.’

  ‘And where is that top now?’

  He could see that Wilson was immediately regretting answering the question.

  ‘She took it with her.’

  Beside her, her solicitor maintained a professionally neutral face. It wasn’t his position to tell her to stop talking.

  ‘What happened to the murder weapon, Silvija?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was it in the bag with her uniform?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Warren made a show of noting down her answer. Wilson watched, chewing her bottom lip.

  ‘According to the mobile phone tracking data, once you dropped Annie off at the train station, you went for a bit of a drive, before receiving the call on your personal phone from Malina at three-thirty-five – the time that she supposedly informed you of the incident. Where were you going?’

  Warren could see the conflict on her face. It was obvious that her instinct was to ‘no comment’, but she clearly saw that would look suspicious.

  ‘I was stressed. I wanted some time to think and clear my head.’

  Warren made another note. Ruskin slid his pad across so that Warren could read the question he had written in big letters. He nodded.

  ‘You said that neither Biljana or Malina witnessed the initial altercation between Annie and Mr Cullen,’ said Ruskin.

  ‘That is what they told me,’ said Wilson.

  ‘The attack happened at about ten past one, I believe?’

  ‘That is what I was told.’

  ‘Mr Cullen’s massage started at one p.m. You said in an earlier statement that depending on the treatment, it might only last half an hour, then he would be left to relax for a bit?’

  Wilson bit her lip. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘You did,’ said Ruskin, firmly. ‘It’s on the record.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘I’ve not had many massages over the years,’ Ruskin continued, ‘but it would seem that ten minutes is a short treatment. Where was Biljana when the alleged altercation between Annie and Mr Cullen took place?’ He emphasized the word ‘alleged’.

  ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there.’

  Warren took over again. ‘Perhaps the two nail technicians can tell us? They obviously heard or saw something; that’s why they ran out.’

  ‘They had left by the time I arrived. I haven’t seen them since.’

  ‘Then perhaps you could help us track them down.’

  ‘I only knew them by their first names: Lilly and Yên.’

  ‘Perhaps your two nieces can help us,’ suggested Warren. ‘After all, they did work with them all day.’

  ‘I don’t think so. They didn’t speak English.’

  ‘Where were they from?’ asked Ruskin.

  ‘Vietnam, I believe.’

  ‘Perhaps you could give me their home addresses, or a contact phone number. They could really help us here. And your nieces.’

  Wilson shrugged. ‘They are self-employed. I don’t know where they live.’

  ‘How did they come to work at the parlour?’ asked Ruskin.

  ‘They turned up a year or so ago and offered to rent our chairs. My previous nail technicians had left, and the space was empty, so I said yes.’

  There was something about the confident, fluent way that she said it that didn’t sit right with Warren.

  ‘How did they hear about the spaces?’

  ‘I suppose word gets around.’

  ‘If they didn’t speak English, how did you communicate?’

  ‘They spoke a few words,’ said Wilson.

  ‘What about payment?’ asked Warren.

  ‘They charged the customers directly. I charged them a flat fee for use of our facilities. It’s the same arrangement as self-employed hairdressers renting a chair in a salon.’

  ‘How often did they pay?’ asked Ruskin.

  ‘Weekly.’

  ‘How much?’

  Wilson looked uncomfortable. ‘One hundred pounds.’

  ‘And do you supply the products, or did they?’

  ‘They do.’

  ‘Do you get any commission?’ asked Ruskin.

  Wilson again looked uncomfortable. ‘About fifty per cent of their takings.’

  ‘We’ve looked at your business accounts, Mrs Wilson, and there are no weekly payments into your account, other than those in your customer ledger. There are no nail treatments listed in that ledger.’

  ‘They paid cash,’ said Wilson quietly.

  ‘The turnover of your parlour only just covers your overheads,’ said Warren. ‘Your salary is barely more than what you pay your nieces, and their salary is below minimum wage.’

  ‘I rent the flat to them for free, so they are paid above minimum wage,’ said Wilson indignantly.

  ‘About that,’ said Warren, ‘we’ve also had a look at your personal bank account. You have been paying the mortgage on the flat that you rent out to your nieces for years. You also pay the mortgage on the house that you live in, and you drive a very nice, brand-new Mini Clubman. When I look at those outgoings, and compare it to the salary you pay yourself, the two figures are almost ident
ical. Aside from a small occupational pension from your late husband, I can’t for the life of me work out how you afford to eat or even put petrol in your car. Perhaps you could explain to me how that works?’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ snapped Wilson.

  ‘I would suggest that the way Mrs Wilson chooses to run her business is beyond the scope of this investigation,’ said her solicitor.

  Warren ignored him. ‘So, two strangers that you have never met before, who don’t speak English, turn up at your parlour and ask to rent space. You don’t have an address or contact details for them, and have no idea whether they are entitled to work in this country. They pay their rent in cash. Is that about the size of it?’ asked Warren.

  ‘No comment,’ said Wilson, finally.

  ‘Mrs Wilson, you and your nieces are in a lot of trouble. Far more trouble than you seem to appreciate. The way things currently stand, you are all potentially looking at very lengthy prison sentences.’ Warren let that sink in for a moment.

  ‘Look at it from our perspective. The victim was a regular visitor to your parlour and sold you cut-price, probably stolen, beauty products. You lied about knowing him. You and your nieces are claiming that his murder was carried out by a mysterious woman called Annie, who you claim to know nothing about but who you helped escape the scene. The only two witnesses are two nail technicians, possibly Vietnamese, who again you claim to know nothing about, and are unable to help us locate. For the past week, you and your nieces have covered up what really happened and lied repeatedly to my team.

  ‘This goes far beyond your dodgy business practices. Frankly, I’m not interested in whether you paid your workers cash in hand, didn’t pay tax on the income from the space that you rented out, or if your beauty supplies fell off the back of a lorry. What I care about is what went on in that back room on Monday the 2nd of November and bringing those responsible to justice. And at the moment, all the available evidence is pointing towards the culprit or culprits being your nieces.

  ‘I suggest you have a think about that. Interview suspended.’

  ‘She’s still protecting herself and her nieces,’ said Grayson. He’d been watching the interview, alongside the rest of the team. The large briefing room was standing room only, with a mixture of Middlesbury-based detectives and visitors from Welwyn. Karen Hardwick had slipped in at the back, keen to hear her colleagues’ take on the interviews that she’d watched on the screen. She was a big fan of the new video systems that had been installed in her absence.