by Lloyd Otis
‘Wade, sorry I’m late but this is DI Breck, and he has some rather sad news for us.’ Van Bruen stood up, a towering six-foot-four, and shook Breck’s hand.
‘Mr Van Bruen.’
‘DI Breck have a seat.’
‘It’s OK. I prefer to stand. However, you may want to sit.’ Van Bruen glanced at Lizzie, looking for guidance, but her eyes were glazed with nothing forthcoming. He sensed the magnitude of what he was about to be told so returned to his seat. ‘Your finance director Janet Maskell has died. Her body was found this morning.’
Tears now began to stream down Lizzie’s face while the shock hammered Wade.
‘How did it happen?’
‘We are treating it as suspicious and are trying to ascertain further details. However, we have taken one of your employees, Alexander Troy, into custody to help us with our enquiries.’
‘Troy? This can’t be happening.’
‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.’
Wade turned to Lizzie, his voice more urgent this time as the shock still rocked him. ‘Is this true?’
‘Yes,’ she said before dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex tissue.
Wade took in a huge gulp of air, wondering how to best deal with the situation – keep a lid on it for as long as possible, or make an official internal statement?
‘You say that you’ve taken Alexander Troy into custody?’
‘Yes, that’s right, we want to know his whereabouts.’
‘What have you got on him?’
Breck was a little uncomfortable with the question. ‘Let’s just say that we have reason to believe he can help us with the investigation.’
Wade remained deep in thought and at first Breck believed it was down to the shock. But when he saw the odd exchange of stares between him and Lizzie, he guessed that there was something else.
‘Does someone mind telling what’s going on?’
‘Troy had been due to have an important meeting today with Lizzie, Janet and me, to discuss his conduct over the acquisition of a new client.’
‘How important?’
‘Important enough for him to fear for his job.’
‘Who found out about what he had been up to?’
Lizzie was ready once again to join the conversation. ‘Isn’t it obvious, Detective?’ she asked but Breck’s shake of the head was an admission it wasn’t. ‘Janet found out about Alexander breaking the rules and brought it to our attention. She was the one that wanted him sacked.’
FIVE
The police car pulled into the station’s yard, an area where cracks spiralled across the brick wall, and the chipped paint on the window frames created abstract patterns. Breck was in a bullish mood as he escorted Troy inside the station like a hunter with his trophy. The normal uniforms knew Breck. Even though the SCU’s could operate on a need-to-know basis if they wanted, Breck preferred to be recognised and that’s all that mattered.
They frogmarched Troy into the custody area. A black teenager sat handcuffed with blood wedded to his afro, and he battled a runny nose, complaining that no one would give him a tissue. It was a place devoid of colour and warmth with a dusty smell lingering in the air. Any hint of comfort remained absent as one would expect. Troy knew about places like this all too well, and while he stood in front of the Desk Sergeant, he missed Breck display compassion. The DI pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the teen’s nose.
Troy was instructed to fill out a form and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking when he did. His head continued to spin as he handed over his watch, along with loose change. He realised then it was really happening and became stuck between playing along or figuring the best way to get the hell out. He mulled this over while he confirmed his name and address before having his rights explained. His fingerprints and a mugshot were taken, face on, then side on. When he finished, Breck escorted him down to a prison cell.
Troy never expected to be arrested today, and he sat dazed on a single bed with a mattress carved from granite. He had friends and needed those friends to help him now. Too many people would be burned if he remained locked up and he needed his name cleared. Troy searched for ways to end the nightmare while staring at the bluish-grey walls of his cell, still unable to take it all in.
Breck stood by and watched him for a few moments before closing the cell door, thinking that Troy was stupid for leaving his credit card lying on victim’s floor. A stupid and careless action that would cost him his freedom, with greed in some ways perhaps buried at the heart of it. There could be nothing else.
Breck wondered where Kearns had got to and searched for her, but before he reached half-way upstairs, he bumped into Kearns walking down. He was a little annoyed and found it difficult to hide it.
‘Ah there you are, where have you been? I had to move quickly and nab Troy at his place of work, so didn’t have the time to find you.’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t well. Threw up in the toilet.’
‘You OK?’ In a flash his annoyance turned to sympathy. He put a comforting hand upon her shoulder. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘I survived a divorce and a daughter that won’t speak to me so this is kid’s play. Go on then, tell me. What did I miss?’
‘Our Alexander Troy is in a cell and now that you’re here, we can have a chat with him. See where we stand.’
‘What was his reaction to being taken in?’
‘Denial of course and a bit of, how dare I connect him to this crime, when I pulled him in.’
‘Guilty?’
‘Hard to say but Janet Maskell wanted him sacked for breaking company rules. Possible motive right there.’
‘All right, let me grab the supporting evidence and a glass of water then I’ll meet you in the interview room.’
Breck watched with some concern as Kearns doubled back upstairs. She said she was fine but he wasn’t convinced, while accepting that they could both do with a break. He wanted to get things moving so went on ahead, knowing that some cases could take a while to crack. However, this one looked like it’d be wrapped up pretty soon. All Breck had to do was question the prime suspect and confirm the motive then it’d be onto the next one.
After a rustle of movement and the sound of keys outside his cell, Alexander Troy glanced up to see the ominous figure of Breck at the doorway, alongside the uniformed officer he had grabbed along the way. Troy put Breck’s height at around 5’11 and his defined shape suggested that he looked after his body. If he made a run for it Breck would catch him.
‘Time to go. This way please,’ Breck said.
Troy refused to budge. ‘I want my phone call. I’m entitled to it.’
‘You are and you’ll get it in due course. This way please!’
A disgruntled Troy relented and followed Breck and the other officer down the corridor, and all the way into the interview room.
He sat down clasping both hands together and waited, telling himself that they had nothing on him, convincing himself that it was all a mistake. One he could clear up in an instant. Moments later Kearns entered the room. She sat next to her colleague with a closed file and began the proceedings.
‘Do you require legal representation?’ Troy opened his mouth to answer the question but Kearns cut in. ‘Though if you do, it would make your stay last that bit longer. We’d have to make phone calls on your behalf, rearrange this interview, and the paperwork takes a long time to process nowadays. You see we’re short-staffed here.’
Troy recalled his ‘telephone’ request with Breck and guessed that although these two knew the rules they’d bend them to suit. Kearns’ false sincerity was the oldest trick in the book.
‘Look, I want to sort this out and get back to the office to save my job. Me being here as a suspect is embarrassing for my company.’
‘I agree so let’s clear this up, then you’ll be able to go,’ Breck replied. ‘To reiterate, I’m Detective Inspector Arlo Breck. Joining me is Detective Sergeant Patricia Kearns and you have dec
ided to conduct the interview without legal counsel.’ Breck opened the file that Kearns had placed on the table which contained the information they had so far collated on Troy. He used a finger to adjust the rim of his black polo-neck, while Troy, an educated man, expected a difficult time.
The speed at which Breck began to tap his fingers on the desk made Troy feel uneasy. His eyes played ping pong, darting between the two officers, waiting for someone to jump from the shadows and tell him the interview was a joke, a prank of the sickest nature. No one appeared. Troy knew that these people were trained and could chew him up and spit him out. Remaining calm should be paramount. As he opened his mouth to speak he noticed that Kearns had her pen ready to write down his statement, but it wouldn’t deter him from telling them what he had to.
‘I’d like to start by asking where you were between noon and 2:00 p.m. today?’
‘I was having lunch on Charing Cross Road between 1:00 p.m. and 2:00 p.m. Then I started work in the afternoon.’
‘Where did you have your lunch?’
‘In The Cambas. It’s a pub.’
Breck cleared his throat. ‘Were you on your own when you were having lunch?’
‘Yes I was.’
‘Are you seeing anyone, Mr Troy?’
‘The questioning should be about my whereabouts today not about my personal life.’
Breck ignored Troy and continued to steer the interview. ‘Are you sure you weren’t with,’ Breck paused for a moment to look at a name written in the file, ‘Ceinwen. Is she your girlfriend?’
Troy wondered how they knew about her and what they knew, while Breck and Kearns waited for him to respond. Then Troy relaxed a little, figuring that they had a name, perhaps from Lizzie but nothing else.
‘From what I know you’ve pronounced the name wrong. It’s not ‘sign-win’ it’s ‘kine-win’ and no, ‘I’ve never heard of her. Whoever she is, I don’t know her.’
Breck didn’t appreciate the pompous attitude. Neither did Kearns. ‘Let’s narrow this down,’ Breck said. ‘Where were you from noon to 1:00 p.m. today?
‘Doing stuff?’
‘What stuff?’
‘Bits and pieces, I can’t remember the detail.’
‘So you have no alibi for that exact time?’
‘I guess I don’t. I visited no one in particular.’
Kearns jumped in. ‘Why travel to Charing Cross Road just to have lunch when there are decent cafes and pubs around Cransham?’
‘I had time to kill and wanted a change of scenery.’ Troy smirked which was not the best thing to do under the circumstances. Kearns brought the questioning back a step. ‘What was your reason for starting work in the afternoon?’
Troy considered his words. ‘I had things at home I wanted to sort out.’
‘Like what?’ He stared at Kearns, not knowing what to add. ‘What sort of things?’
Troy folded his arms. ‘If you must know my boiler stopped working, so I tried to get it to work again. Wasn’t successful though.’
He then averted his gaze away as if the whole process of questioning was a waste of his precious time. An act that riled both officers and Breck re-entered the questioning, determined to up the ante.
‘Do you know Ms Janet Maskell?’
‘Yes, I do. She’s the finance director at my company.’
‘What is your relationship with her?’
Troy broke out into a mock laugh. ‘It’s professional, nothing more. What are you insinuating?’
‘Mr Troy, Janet Maskell is dead. We found her in her home this afternoon.’
Troy stared at Breck with a blank expression. ‘Dead? I don’t understand, how did she die?’
‘We were hoping you’d tell us. She was the one that found out about your dodgy dealings at Van Bruen.’ A reply failed to materialise from Troy. Kearns opened the file and took out a set of Polaroid photographs. She laid them on the table to ensure he could see the morbid images one-by-one, and the sight of a deceased Janet Maskell made him heave. It twisted his stomach in knots and he took a while to compose himself. ‘The suspect is now being shown exhibit ONT11.’ Kearns pulled out a clear plastic wallet from the file. It contained a glossy women’s magazine. Troy’s face turned to stone and his hands tightened around the arms of the chair when he saw his name written on it. ‘She wrote down your name, why?’
‘I can’t provide an answer to the question but there must be a million people out there with my name.’
‘I’d agree with that but not all of them have this card. The suspect is now being shown exhibit ONT12.’
Kearns pulled an Access credit card from the file. It was held within another clear plastic wallet and she made sure Troy saw his full name.
Breck pointed to it. ‘That too was found in the victim’s home. Is it yours?’
‘Yes, it seems to be.’
‘How do you explain that then?’
‘Explain what?’
‘Look, we can do this all day long if you want to but the truth is this, a woman that you know is now dead. You have a motive and your alibi is non-existent.’
Breck glared at him, convinced Troy was hiding something but he couldn’t identify what.
Kearns pitched in. ‘Where’s the murder weapon; the heavy-duty tool or whatever you used to kill her with?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean it. Despite the evidence you have which doesn’t amount to much, I did nothing. I don’t understand why Janet wrote my name down, or how my credit card ended up in her home. Something isn’t right.’
‘You’re correct there, something isn’t right. We’ve checked the wallet you handed over when you were brought in and there isn’t a credit card inside. That’s because it’s right here. Exhibit ONT12. Let me ask you again. What was your relationship with Janet Maskell?’
A knock at the door then interrupted proceedings which annoyed Breck and he was surprised to see Bashir enter the interview room. Kearns left her seat and spoke with him but didn’t seem to like what she heard. Breck couldn’t decipher what was going on from where he sat. After Bashir had left, she called him over.
‘What’s going on Pat?’
‘It doesn’t look like this is going to be a straightforward case to wrap up.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Come with me. You’re not going to like it.’
Troy watched them exit the room to be replaced by a junior SCU member. He guarded the door, looked young and fresh, and Troy knew the waistline would be the first thing to go out the window for these guys if they didn’t keep an eye on it. He figured he had nothing to lose so tried to strike up a conversation.
‘Hey, do you know what’s going on around here? One minute I’m being questioned, the next I’m being put on hold and people are walking out.’ The officer ignored the question which pissed Troy off a little. ‘There’s just the two of us here so you can tell me. I won’t say a thing.’ Troy had no real conviction in his request; he just hoped something would come of it.
The officer opened his mouth to speak which gave Troy hope but that soon diminished. ‘Shut it. I don’t speak to scum.’
‘You prick,’ Troy retorted.
A moment later Breck and Kearns returned wearing rotten expressions. The junior officer left but stuck his middle finger up at Troy before he did. Kearns reached the table first, vexed, and Breck approached afterwards, running a hand through his hair. He was on edge.
‘We have a problem and I want you to be truthful with me,’ he warned Troy.
‘Anything to help you DI Breck, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?’
Breck’s glare chilled every part of Troy’s body as the words slipped out. ‘What is your real name?’
Troy glanced at Kearns to see whether or not it was a trick but she didn’t smile. He switched back to Breck. He didn’t smile either.
‘My name is Alexander Troy!’
‘This is not the time to play games. What is your real name?’ B
reck’s voice stabbed long and hard, and the detective inspector drenched the sentence in suspicion, leaving the words to hover. Troy couldn’t understand what had prompted it. Why would they doubt who he was? After several long moments Breck broke the silence. ‘A victim of a recent attack, claims the perpetrator was a man fitting your physical description. In the altercation that occurred, the victim had his wallet stolen.’
‘What’s that got to do with who I am?’
Breck threw his head towards the ceiling in frustration then snapped it back down.
‘He can provide proof of a valid bank account, passport, even a National Insurance number in the name of Alexander Troy! Do you understand? I must warn you that as well as murder, impersonation fraud is an offence.’ Troy ran over the events of the day so far and recalled the argument with a man about a seat on a train. That was it. Nothing else.
‘Yes, I had a few choice words with a stranger but nothing like you’re suggesting.’
‘That’s not the way we heard it.’ A defiant Troy had to accept the mess he was in.
‘You’d better get real comfortable. It looks like you’ll be here a while.’
The SCU officers were products of their time, stuck in a gritty place where anything was possible, where good morphed into bad and vice versa. If a charge was weak, it’d be made to stick. Having a man like Troy sit before them didn’t seem strange at all and the fact that he worked for Van Bruen Plc, one of the biggest professional services companies in the country, made little difference to them.
‘You’re a real loser,’ Kearns sniped and Troy sent a menacing look her way.
She enjoyed the moment of having a person like him on his knees: a person earning three times her salary. He was too posh for her northern ideals and she tried to give the impression of keeping it professional when it was anything but.
Troy’s desperation to use his real alibi intensified. Using it would clear this issue up but create far bigger ones. Too dangerous. Ceinwen needed to be protected at all costs and he just couldn’t afford for her to be implicated in anything. Not now. Troy straightened himself up and suggested another angle.
