by Peter Murphy
‘It would be interesting to know how much Henry knew about all that, wouldn’t it?’ Andrew observed. ‘Does he have any form?’
‘No, sir. Clean as a whistle.’
‘In that case, I’m sure he wouldn’t want his children getting mixed up with drug dealers.’
‘That’s one of the many things we would like to ask him, sir.’
Andrew nodded.
‘Yes, of course. And the doctors haven’t given you any idea of how long it might be before he can talk to you?’ he asked.
‘No, sir. They say it will happen in its own good time. But the problem is that we can’t interview him until it does happen, and sooner or later we will either have to charge him or let him go. Obviously, it would be almost unheard of to agree to bail in a murder case, and he has more than enough means to do a runner if he’s so inclined. His solicitors have asked when they can see him, and I’m running out of excuses for stalling them.’
‘Who are his solicitors?’
Webb fumbled in his jacket pocket before pulling out a hand-written note.
‘A firm called Bourne & Davis, with offices near the Temple.’
Andrew smiled.
‘Do you know them, sir?’
‘I do indeed. I’ve had several cases against them. They’re very good, and absolutely honest. You won’t have any problems with them.’
He paused for some time.
‘So,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘What to do? ’
He resumed his seat behind his desk.
‘All right. First, you must at least try to interview Henry; go through the motions. It’s very unlikely that he has total amnesia. Even if he can’t remember what happened on Wednesday, find out who this man is, his life history, what he remembers about his marriage, his children, his wife leaving him, the divorce proceedings. I’d be amazed if he doesn’t remember something, and with any luck that will jog his memory about the event itself.
‘Worst case scenario, even if he says nothing, or he tells you that he can’t remember anything, you are putting his reaction on the record, so he can’t pretend otherwise when he comes to trial. I don’t want the defence to complain that you made no effort to question him. Also, it will give you the chance to assess for yourself whether the amnesia seems to be genuine or not.’
Webb nodded. ‘Right you are, sir.’
‘Second, you can’t stall his solicitors. You’re not allowed to, and you don’t want to. Let them see him as soon as possible. Again, it’s about making a record. If he doesn’t say anything to them either, they can’t complain about you at trial. It may even be in his interests for his solicitors to cooperate with you.’
‘How so, sir?’
‘They may be thinking of some defence based on mental incapacity. We don’t know enough about the case yet to know whether that might fly or not, but Davis might raise it with you. In any case, you need to get a second opinion from a specialist doctor or a psychologist familiar with the effects of shock and amnesia. Dr Moynihan is all very well and good, and he seems to have made the right calls so far, but he’s a general practitioner, and eventually a judge is going to want to hear from an expert.’
Webb was rapidly making notes. Andrew waited for him to finish.
‘Once you’ve interviewed him, go ahead and charge him, regardless of what he says or doesn’t say.’
‘Even if he doesn’t say anything?’
‘Yes. Why not? It’s not exactly unknown for suspects to remain silent when interviewed, is it? That’s why you caution them, to remind them that they have the right to remain silent. The reason for the silence may be a bit different in this case, but that doesn’t alter the principle. It doesn’t matter whether he says anything or not, as long as you give him the chance. You have more than enough evidence to charge him with murder. You may as well get on with it.’
15
The two officers stopped at the door of the interview room, opened the door gently and stepped inside. Henry Lang was waiting for them. He was sitting quietly at the table. His sister had brought him some of his own clothes and personal effects from home, and he was dressed in a clean grey shirt and jeans. He looked up as they entered. He looked tired, and there were dark lines around his eyes. The eyes themselves seemed empty, vacant. The officers looked at each other and sat down at the table opposite him.
‘Mr Lang, I don’t know whether you remember us?’
He stared at them blankly.
‘No. Sorry. Should I?’
‘All right, then. Let’s start with introductions, shall we? I’m Detective Inspector Webb, and this is Detective Sergeant Raymond. Before I go any further, Mr Lang, I must tell you that we are investigating the suspicious death of your wife, Susan Lang, and that you are a suspect in her death. Therefore, I must caution you that you are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be put into writing and given in evidence. Do you understand what I’ve just said?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. Sergeant Raymond is going to be taking notes.’
Henry nodded but said nothing. There was a silence. Webb laughed awkwardly.
‘I must admit, Mr Lang, this is a new one for me. I’m not sure where to begin. Perhaps I should ask… do you even know where you are?’
Henry nodded again.
‘I’m in custody at Holborn Police Station.’
‘Very good,’ Webb said. ‘That’s correct. How do you know that?’
‘Sergeant Miller told me this morning.’
‘This morning?’
‘Yeah. I remember arriving here this morning in an ambulance, with a police officer, and when we arrived, Sergeant Miller said who he was, and told me that he was in charge of the people in custody at Holborn Police Station. That’s how I know.’
‘And you don’t remember meeting Sergeant Miller before this morning?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know what day it is?’
Henry thought for some time.
‘No. Not really.’
‘Well, I can tell you: it’s Friday 30 April,’ Webb said. ‘I’d be happy to find a newspaper with today’s date on it, if you don’t want to take my word for it.’
‘No, I’ll take your word for it.’
‘Thank you, Mr Lang. Well… I’m not sure… can I just see if I understand this correctly? Is it your impression that you were brought here for the first time this morning, Friday 30 April?’
‘As far as I know, yeah.’
‘Do you know why you’re here?’
‘Sergeant Miller told me I’d been nicked.’
Webb nodded. ‘That’s right. Do you know why?’
Henry shook his head.
‘Not really. He said my wife had been attacked, but I don’t know anything about that.’
‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Mr Lang, but did Sergeant Miller tell you that your wife had been killed? Do you understand that she’s dead as a result of being attacked with a knife?’
‘Yeah,’ Henry replied quietly.
‘Did he tell you when your wife was killed?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Or where?’
‘I don’t remember.’
Webb paused to allow Raymond to complete a note.
‘So you don’t remember being arrested by DS Raymond and myself on Wednesday, and brought to the station in a police car?’
‘On Wednesday?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. I don’t remember that.’
‘You don’t remember being put in a cell here just after lunch time, about 2.30 to 3 o’clock on Wednesday afternoon?’
‘No.’
‘Do you remember feeling very cold in your cell?’
‘Cold?’
‘Yes.’
‘It doe
sn’t feel cold in here.’
‘No. I know. But I’m asking whether you remember feeling cold while you were in the cell on Wednesday afternoon?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t remember Sergeant Miller bringing you a cup of tea, and then some blankets, and telling you to wrap yourself up in them to keep warm?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t remember a doctor, Doctor Moynihan, coming to see you, and taking your temperature, your blood pressure, and so on?’
‘No.’
‘And you don’t remember being taken to Barts hospital?’
‘No. Is that where I came from this morning?’
‘Yes. Do you remember staying the night there?’
‘No.’
‘Not last night, not Wednesday night?’
‘No.’
‘No? You don’t remember being in a hospital ward, nurses putting an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated and medicated, doctors coming to examine you?’
‘No.’
‘Nothing about any of that?’
‘Nothing at all.’
Webb sat back in his chair, and looked at Raymond in frustration.
‘Well, what do you remember?’
Henry thought for a very long time.
‘I remember being at home in the morning –’
‘What, on Wednesday?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Home being your flat in Alwyne Road?’
‘Yeah. I was at home until it was time to go out.’
‘To go out where?’
‘I had to… well, I’m involved in a divorce…’
‘Yes. Go on.’
‘And I’m trying to get custody of my two daughters.’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘The judge said my wife and I had to have some meetings with a court welfare officer.’
‘And what’s the welfare officer’s name?’
He paused.
‘Wendy Cameron. She lives in Dombey Street.’
‘Yes,’ Webb said. ‘That’s not far from here, is it?’
‘From here?’
‘Yes. Holborn Police Station, where we are now, is in Lamb’s Conduit Street, right around the corner from Mrs Cameron’s house. Why do you suppose I would know that?’
Henry shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Raymond was shaking his head. Don’t push him too hard, he was suggesting.
Webb nodded.
‘So you had a meeting scheduled with Mrs Cameron on Wednesday?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And that was to talk about your children?’
‘To help her to decide what to recommend in her report. Yeah.’
‘What time was the meeting supposed to take place?’
‘We had to be there by 12.30.’
‘And what time did you leave home?’
Henry shook his head.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, how long would it take you to get from your flat to Mrs Cameron’s house?’
‘Not long.’
‘Not if you drove, no. But you didn’t drive, Mr Lang, did you? You walked.’
Henry looked up, apparently in surprise.
‘Did I? Why would I do that?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Lang. I was going to ask you the same thing.’
‘I don’t know.’ He looked closely at Webb. ‘Did I really walk?’
‘It seems so. We didn’t find any car keys when we arrested you, and there was a red E-Type outside your flat when officers went there later in the day. Is that yours?’
Henry nodded.
‘Yeah. I have a couple of cars I keep at my garage, but I do tend to run around in the Jag mostly.’
‘We did wonder whether you might have gone by bus. Do you remember being on a bus?’
‘No. I don’t use the buses. I don’t like buses, and anyway you can’t rely on them.’
Webb reached into his briefcase, which he had placed beside his chair.
‘While we’re talking about your flat, Mr Lang, do you happen to recognise this?’
Webb put the knife, still in its evidence bag, on the table. Henry made a move as if to pick it up, but then withdrew his hand as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch. Webb picked it up and put it in Henry’s hand.
‘Don’t be nervous about handling it, Mr Lang. It’s in a bag, so you can’t contaminate it. Do you recognise it? Take a careful look.’
Henry turned it over several times, peering at the knife through the plastic cover from different angles.
‘I can take it out of the bag if you want…’
‘No,’ Henry replied suddenly, abruptly replacing the knife on the table. ‘That could be mine. It’s similar to a set I have in the kitchen. I think Susan bought them, in the West End somewhere, when we were first married.’
‘If I were to go to your flat now, would I find the complete set of knives there, or would there be one missing?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘This one, perhaps?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you? Didn’t you take this knife with you when you left your flat to go to Mrs Cameron’s?’
‘No. Why would I take a knife with me to see Mrs Cameron?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Lang. I’m asking you.’
‘No. I can’t see why I… I don’t remember taking anything with me.’
He paused.
‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Of course you can.’
Henry picked up the knife again.
‘What are all those brown stains on it?’
16
Webb took a deep breath.
‘Mr Lang, before I answer your question, in fairness to you, I think it’s time for us to put our cards on the table, and tell you what DS Raymond and I saw on Wednesday afternoon in Dombey Street.’
‘All right.’
‘There was a 999 call just after 1.30, asking for police and an ambulance to be sent to Dombey Street at the entrance to Harpur Mews. That’s immediately opposite Mrs Cameron’s house. DS Raymond and I responded, together with another officer, PC Williams.
‘When we arrived, we saw you sitting on the ground, in the rain, holding this knife in your right hand. Your wife Susan Lang was lying on the ground, just inside the entrance to the mews. She was bleeding heavily from a number of wounds, and it was obvious to us that her condition was very serious. Are you with me so far?’
Henry nodded.
‘The way you were sitting, there was no way for the ambulance to get to Susan, so it was necessary for us to take away the knife – which we did, and in fairness to you, you didn’t try to stop us, or attack us, or attack Susan. You were totally compliant, and I want to thank you for that.’
‘I don’t remember any of this,’ Henry said.
‘You were arrested, and given the same caution I gave you today, and you made no reply. You were brought here to Holborn Police Station and checked in – in other words Sergeant Miller made sure he knew who you were and why you had been arrested – and you were then placed in a cell, just like the one you’ve been in this morning.’
Webb paused.
‘But, I’m sorry to say, the ambulance crew weren’t able to save Susan. They tried very hard, they did all they could, but our understanding is that she couldn’t have been saved by the time they arrived. Her injuries were too severe. They were always going to be fatal.’
Henry was nodding.
‘Meanwhile, you were apparently suffering from shock. You went very cold, and you weren’t responding to anyone at all. Sergeant Miller was concerned about you, and called the police surgeon, Dr Moynihan, and he was the one who diagnosed shock and whisked you off to Barts for tests and observation.’
Henry was still nodding.
‘So, they’re blood stains?’ he asked. ‘That’s Susan’s blood?’
Webb nodded.
‘It has been analysed,’ he replied. ‘It’s her blood.’
Henry held his head in his hands for some time, and lowered his head towards the table. DS Raymond was rubbing his hands together, grateful for a break from his rapid note-taking. Webb said nothing for more than two minutes, allowing Raymond time to flex his writing hand a few times before picking up his pen again.
‘We spoke to Mrs Cameron,’ Webb said. ‘She was the one who made the 999 call. She told us all about the meeting, and she told us she saw the whole thing from the window of her house. Do you want to know what she saw?’
‘Yes,’ Henry replied, his head still bowed.
‘She saw you and Susan arguing by the entrance to Harpur Mews. She even heard you shouting at each other, though she couldn’t hear what you were saying. And then she saw you strike Susan very hard, six or seven times, and she saw Susan fall to the ground. That’s when she saw the knife in your hand. You sat down on the ground, exactly where you were when we found you. You hadn’t moved at all.’
‘So, I killed her?’ Henry asked, raising his head and looking directly at Webb.
Webb was taken aback. Raymond had paused in his writing and Webb was aware of his questioning look.
‘Yes… actually, Mr Lang, at this point, I think I ought to remind you that you are still under caution. That means that you are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be put into writing and given in evidence. Do you understand what I’ve just said?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Lang, do you wish to say anything?’
‘What do you want me to say?’
Webb stared at Henry for some time.
‘Mr Lang, do you understand what we’re talking about? Do you understand that you are going to be charged with the murder of your wife? I ask because, for a man who has stabbed his wife to death in such a violent manner, you seem remarkably composed. I think if I were in your position, I would be a basket case, and yet you seem completely calm.’
Henry remained silent.
