‘Hello?’ I said. ‘Harry Foster speaking.’
‘It’s Arabella Chadwick. Can you come to our house?’ There was a degree of desperation in her voice, even panic. ‘Please come.’
‘What? Now?’
‘Yes, now. Straight away. We need you.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘The police are here. They’re arresting Declan for Zoe’s murder.’
Ten minutes later I was climbing out of a taxi in the driveway of Declan and Arabella’s house on Hamilton Road, when I’d have so much rather been in bed with Kate.
‘Wait for me, will you?’ I said to the taxi driver. ‘I may need you.’
‘You’re paying,’ he said, reclining his seat and closing his eyes.
There were four other vehicles parked in the driveway, two marked police squad cars, one blue Ford Mondeo and one plain white van with SUFFOLK CONSTABULARY painted on the side.
Arabella was standing outside the front door, as if waiting for me.
‘Thank God you’re here,’ she said.
‘Where are they?’ I asked, waving at the empty cars.
‘Declan is in the dining room with two plain-clothes detectives and a uniformed copper. Four others in white spacesuits are searching the place. I was told to get out.’
‘They can’t do that.’
‘They just did. That’s why we need you.’
‘What you need is a lawyer.’
‘But you are a lawyer,’ Arabella said. ‘You told us so on Monday.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘but Declan needs a solicitor who regularly deals with major criminal cases. Don’t you know any other lawyers?’
‘No.’ She was adamant. ‘Declan wants you. He says that you can prove his innocence.’
My first, second and every instinct was screaming ‘no’. I may be a lawyer by training, and I was certainly accredited by the Law Society, such that I was permitted to practise as a defence solicitor in England and Wales, but I’d done precious little serious criminal work and certainly nothing approaching murder.
My more standard fare in that respect was what I called the five Bs – Bankers, Bonus, Booze, Birds and Barbiturates (although it was nowadays more likely to be cocaine) – bailing over-rich, over-drunk, over-sexed and over-drugged young men out of difficult and often violent situations in nightclubs, while trying to keep a lid on the publicity to protect the reputations of their employers.
I tried explaining all of that to Arabella. But she wouldn’t listen.
‘Declan needs you,’ she said. ‘Not some other person we don’t know.’
‘But he only met me two days ago,’ I pointed out.
‘Better than not at all. Declan trusts you.’
‘How can he?’ I said. ‘He doesn’t know me.’
‘If Sheikh Karim trusts you, that’s good enough for us.’
I stared at her. She was a very determined woman.
‘I’ll have to make a call,’ I said.
I walked away from her and used my mobile to ring ASW.
‘I don’t see why not,’ he said after I’d explained the situation. ‘It might help you find out why the horses died. I’m sure the Sheikh would approve. I’ll fix it with him in the morning.’
‘What about the potential for conflict of interest?’ I said. ‘If Declan actually did set fire to the stables and killed the Sheikh’s horses, then I would then be representing opposing parties.’
‘Mmm, I see what you mean. Awkward.’
Ensuring there was no conflict of interest should always be a primary concern for any legal entity although, in my experience, some commercial solicitors could evidently barely even spell the words, ploughing on regardless with a case when they should have rightly stepped aside altogether.
‘Do you think Declan did it?’ ASW asked.
I thought back to how he had gone so pale and faint when he’d initially heard the news that Zoe had gone missing. That had been genuine, I was sure of it. But I was also convinced he knew more than he was telling, otherwise why would the news have produced such a reaction in the first place?
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But there’s a lot more going on in the Chadwick family than first meets the eye.’
‘All the more reason for sticking close to them.’
‘If you say so,’ I said. ‘I’ll go along with it for now, but they’ll have to find someone else if he’s charged.’
At that point the front door of the house was opened and Declan came out escorted by a large uniformed policeman. At least there were no handcuffs. The ex-jockey looked very small and vulnerable next to his burly minder. They were followed out by DCI Eastwood and another man also in plain clothes. His sergeant, I thought.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I said to ASW.
I hung up and walked purposefully over to the chief inspector.
‘Hello, Mr Foster,’ he said. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I’m Mr Chadwick’s solicitor.’
If he was surprised to see me in the first place, he was now astounded.
‘But I thought you represented Sheikh Karim.’
‘I do, but I’m also here to represent Mr Chadwick.’
I could tell he didn’t like it but he couldn’t send me away, that would have contravened Declan’s rights, and he knew it.
The uniformed policeman took Declan over to one of the squad cars and placed him in the back seat.
‘Where are you taking him?’ I asked DCI Eastwood.
‘Bury St Edmunds PIC.’
‘PIC?’
‘Police Investigation Centre. On River Lane.’
I walked over and stood next to the car.
‘Declan,’ I shouted. He turned and looked out at me through the window. ‘Don’t say anything to anyone other than confirming your name and address. Do you understand?’
He looked as if he was in a daze.
‘Do you understand?’ I shouted again.
This time Declan’s eyes focused on my face and he nodded.
‘Good. Say nothing. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
He nodded again.
I turned back to the chief inspector. ‘Mrs Chadwick requires access to her home.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘However, my officers will complete their search of the premises. Please advise Mrs Chadwick not to obstruct them in any way or she will be liable for arrest. It would be ideal if she remained in her dining room until my officers have finished. And we reserve the right to seal off any areas of the house we see fit for further examination.’
‘She will get a list of any items removed?’
‘Of course.’
The DCI climbed into the Mondeo and backed it out onto the road, while the sergeant sat in the squad car next to Declan and was driven away.
I went over to Arabella.
‘Why is this happening?’ she said desolately. ‘Declan would never hurt anyone. It’s all a big mistake.’
‘Then he will soon be home,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘The police have said you can go back into the house but they are going to finish searching. They have the right to do so. They may also lock some rooms if they think that’s necessary. Just stay calm and let them get on with it. Best not to even talk to them. They will give you a list of everything they take away.’
‘Take away?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Computers, for example. Or mobile phones. The police are especially keen on seizing people’s phones. They can give up all sorts of information.’
‘But Declan didn’t do it,’ she said confidently. ‘I know he didn’t.’
Was she trying to convince me, or herself?
She started crying, which spoilt the immaculate make-up.
‘Is there anyone who can come and be with you tonight?’ I asked. ‘Or somewhere you can go and stay? Perhaps with friends?’
I didn’t suggest she go and stay with Ryan or Oliver. Quite apart from the ongoing feud over the Sheikh’s horses, they might not take ki
ndly to the knowledge that Declan was accused of killing another member of the family.
‘Maybe I’ll call a girlfriend,’ Arabella said. But then she looked at me, her black mascara now cascading down her cheeks along with the tears. ‘But how can I tell anyone my husband’s been arrested for murder?’
They’ll find out soon enough, I thought.
14
I called Kate from the taxi on my way to Bury St Edmunds, to apologise and to tell her that I wouldn’t be coming back, not for quite a while anyway. I’d left her in the bar at the Bedford Lodge in the hope that I’d be able to make a quick return, but that wouldn’t now happen.
‘Who was that woman on the phone?’ she asked. ‘Was it your wife?’
Ouch!
Kate had obviously been working herself up into a frenzy since I’d left, imagining the worst of me, and who could blame her? It had been the most ill-timed of phone calls.
She had also clearly been topping up with the booze.
‘That was not the reason,’ I said calmly. ‘I don’t have a wife.’
‘Girlfriend then?’
‘No. I don’t have a girlfriend either.’ Other than you, I thought.
‘So who was it?’
The breaking news of Declan’s arrest would travel round Newmarket at the speed of sound, but it wouldn’t be me that leaked it first.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.’
She wasn’t happy. And neither was I.
‘I’ve been dumped by men before,’ she said acidly, ‘but never actually when on my way to bed with them.’
‘I’m not dumping you. Quite the reverse. I’m just sorry that something very urgent came up to do with my work.’
‘Something you don’t trust me enough to tell me about?’
Ouch again!
‘It’s not about trust,’ I said. ‘It’s just confidential. Legal stuff. I wouldn’t even tell my mother.’ Oh God, why am I talking about my mother again? ‘Can I call you in the morning?’
‘I’ll be at work.’ She made it sound like an excuse for me not to.
‘But I can call you there?’
There was a long pause before she answered.
‘I’m hurt,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m drunk, I’m lonely and I’m hurt.’
She was crying, and I felt totally wretched.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t intend to hurt you. But this is something I have to do. I’ll tell you all about it very soon, but I can’t right now.’
She hung up without saying goodbye and I very nearly told the taxi driver to turn round and go back to the hotel, but for what? I couldn’t tell her about Declan, so what else would I say? It would only end in an argument and that might result in even more damage than I’d already caused.
I decided that I was better at solving other people’s crises than my own.
‘I’m telling you, I didn’t kill Zoe.’
‘Then why are you here?’ I asked. ‘The police must believe you did, otherwise they wouldn’t have arrested you. Why do you think they did that?’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Declan replied.
We were sitting opposite each other across a table in a special room reserved for detainees to meet with their legal representatives at the Police Investigation Centre in Bury St Edmunds.
I’d arrived soon after Declan had been brought in and I’d had to wait while he was processed by the custody officers: photos, fingerprints, DNA sample and clothes removal for forensic examination. All standard procedure. Finally they had collected him from a cell and allowed me to see him.
He was wearing a police-issue tracksuit that was at least two sizes too big for him. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, it would have been funny.
The clock on the wall indicated that it was half past ten in the evening. It was an hour and a half since I’d left Kate.
An hour and a half of abject misery.
‘What time did you get up this morning?’ I asked.
‘Ten to five,’ Declan replied. ‘As usual at this time of the year. First lot goes out at six. Why is that important?’
‘Because you’ve been up for almost eighteen hours. I might be able to argue that you are in need of a night’s rest before being questioned.’
‘A night’s rest? In one of those cells? You must be joking. They’re bleak, with only a thin waterproof mattress on a very solid bed. I won’t get much rest there. No, let’s get on with it. Then I can go home.’
‘Declan,’ I said, ‘have you the slightest idea how much trouble you are in? The police wouldn’t have arrested you on suspicion of murder just on the off-chance you might have done it. They must have evidence against you. Now what could that be?’
‘I didn’t kill Zoe,’ he repeated.
‘If you say so,’ I said. ‘But what evidence might they have?’
‘I have no idea. Nothing. I didn’t kill her.’
‘You’re not being very helpful.’
I stared at him across the table and, for the first time, I noticed that his nose was slightly crooked. I wondered if that was due to a fall from a horse, or whether Ryan had broken it with a punch in a Doncaster hotel.
There was a knock on the door, which then opened slightly.
‘We’re ready,’ DCI Eastwood said, putting his head through the gap.
‘Just a moment,’ I said. ‘We’ll be out in a minute.’
The door closed again.
‘Now listen to me, Declan, and listen well,’ I said. ‘We need to use this session to find out what they have on you, rather than to give them any more ammunition. Do you understand?’
‘They can’t have anything on me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do it.’
‘When they ask you something, simply say that your solicitor has advised you that you should not answer any questions at this time. Then it’s my fault you’re not answering, not yours. Remember, you don’t have to prove your innocence, they have to prove your guilt. Don’t say anything else without referring to me first. This is important. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ he said, but I wasn’t sure he meant it.
‘Come on, let’s go.’
We transferred to a proper police interview room and sat side by side facing DCI Eastwood and the other plain-clothed policeman who had travelled with Declan in the squad car.
The chief inspector pushed a button on the control panel on the wall and a loud, long beep was heard.
‘For the record,’ he said. ‘This interview is with Mr Declan Chadwick who has been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Mrs Zoe Robertson. I am Detective Chief Inspector Eastwood and I am accompanied by Detective Sergeant Venables. Mr Chadwick’s solicitor, also present, is Mr Harrison Foster.
‘Mr Chadwick, may I remind you that you are still under caution, that you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Declan said.
‘I also inform you that this interview is being recorded and that the video and audio recordings may be produced in court as evidence. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes,’ Declan said again.
‘Good,’ said the DCI. ‘Can you please confirm your full name and address?’
‘Declan Vincent Parker Chadwick. Rowley House Stables, Hamilton Road, Newmarket.’
‘Thank you. Now, Mr Chadwick,’ said the chief inspector, ‘when did you last see your sister?’
Declan glanced at me. ‘I am advised by my solicitor not to answer any questions at this time.’
Good boy, I thought.
The policeman took the lack of an answer in his stride and carried on. ‘Is it not true that you saw her last Sunday?’
Last Sunday? Even I would like to hear his answer to that bombshell.
‘I am advised by my solicitor not to answer any questions at this time,’ Declan repeated.
‘Is i
t also not the case, Mr Chadwick, that you collected Zoe Robertson from Cambridge Station just after midday on Sunday and drove her away in your car, a light-blue Audi A4?’
What?
‘I am advised by my solicitor not to answer any questions at this time.’
‘We have CCTV footage from the forecourt of Cambridge Station that shows her getting into your car. Were you the driver, Mr Chadwick?’
‘I am advised by my solicitor not to answer any questions at this time.’
‘Where did you take her, Mr Chadwick?’
There was something quite menacing in the way the detective kept adding ‘Mr Chadwick’ to all his questions. If I was beginning to sense the threat, goodness knows how Declan was feeling. But he appeared to stay calm and unconcerned.
‘I am advised by my solicitor not to answer any questions at this time.’
Even I was beginning to be irritated by his response because I, too, would have loved to hear the proper answers to the detective’s questions.
There was a brief knock on the door.
‘Interview suspended,’ said the chief inspector, and he pushed a button to stop the recording before stepping out of the door, leaving Sergeant Venables still in with us.
Declan turned to me as if he was about to say something.
‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Anything you say in here may be used in evidence, whether during the formal interview or not.’
Declan nodded and turned back to face the sergeant.
The three of us waited in silence for DCI Eastwood to return, which he did after a few minutes, carrying a small, transparent plastic bag.
The chief inspector pushed the relevant button and was rewarded with another long beep from the recorder. ‘Interview restarted,’ he said. ‘I remind you, Mr Chadwick, that you are still under caution. Are you aware what this is?’ He held up the plastic bag. It contained a mobile telephone in a pink case. ‘Why was this found hidden under your clothes at the back of your wardrobe?’
Declan looked at me and, for the first time, there was more than a touch of panic in his eyes.
Time for me to step in.
‘I would like to speak privately with my client,’ I said.
‘I want an answer to my questions first,’ said the detective, but he hadn’t risen to the rank of chief inspector without knowing the law. I knew it too. Declan had a right to speak privately with his legal advisor at any time.
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