The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 1 -3

by Phillip Strang

  ‘You had no problem with his watching?’

  ‘Why should I? Law school is expensive, and I intend to get through with honours at least. Then I’ll find myself a good position as a lawyer, corporate law. That’s where the money is.’

  ‘And escorting?’

  ‘I’ll stop as soon as I finish law school.’

  ‘No regrets?’

  ‘Of course not. You sound prudish. Do you disapprove?’

  ‘As long as no one causes anyone harm, then I maintain a neutral view.’ Farhan realised he had made a similar statement to Marion Robertson, the purveyor of women such as Samantha.

  ‘My family would disown me.’

  ‘Then why take the risk?’

  ‘I see nothing wrong with what I do.’ She failed to answer his question.

  ‘Can we get back to Charles Sutherland?’ Farhan had deviated from his questioning. He, like Isaac, was susceptible to the charms of a woman. With Isaac, they saw him as a stud. With him, they saw someone to mother.

  Isaac would take advantage; he never had, at least not yet. He had made a decision. The purity and boredom of a loveless marriage did not compensate. He would protect the children, but as for his wife, he had no further use for her.

  ‘I wouldn’t say it was an enjoyable night,’ she continued, ‘or two nights, as we went back again. We provided the service, spent a few hours there, and left.’

  ‘The night he died. Were you there?’

  ‘Yes, but when we left he had a smile on his face. He was very much alive.’

  ‘The other lady?’

  ‘I only know her as Olivia. We don’t talk about our private lives.’

  ‘What time did you leave Sutherland’s suite at the Savoy?’

  ‘Just after midnight. I always check the time of departing.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I need to ensure that my parents are asleep when I get home. I don’t want any awkward questions as I walk in the door.’

  ‘You live at home?’

  ‘A good Muslim girl. Yes, I do. I’ve shocked you again.’

  ‘Too many years as a policeman. I’ve seen it all. I’m not easily shocked, but a good Muslim girl, a beautiful woman, acting as an escort…’

  ‘My name’s Aisha.’

  ‘Your real name?’

  ‘Yes. You will keep my involvement confidential?’

  ‘That’s what I promised Marion. I will make the same promise to you, although you must realise this may soon be out of my control.’

  Unaware, they had walked some distance, further than expected, and found themselves on the other side of the park. In a flurry, late for an appointment, she hailed a taxi. ‘Call me once this is over,’ she shouted to him from the open window. ‘We can meet as friends, have a meal.’

  ***

  ‘I’m sorry about this, Jess.’ Isaac, acting on information supplied by Richard Williams, had no option but to call her in. If it was, as Williams had suggested, ‘important’, then he had to follow police procedure; no longer an informal chat and a brief kiss.

  ‘My client will only answer questions pertaining to Charles Sutherland.’ She had brought along legal representation. Isaac had phoned her before her official summons to the police station, advised her that it would be a good idea.

  She had been taken aback initially but acquiesced when he had explained the situation. ‘Vital evidence, evidence that may be used in court, needs to be given in the correct manner. It’s best for you to come in, honestly answer the questions and clear the air.’

  ‘I thought you were protecting me,’ she had said.

  ‘I still am. Believe me, this is the best way. We need to clear up a few accusations that have been made.’

  ‘My dislike of Sutherland, is that it?’

  ‘Please say no more. Come to the station in your own vehicle. Park it around the back, and no one will know you’ve been here.’

  It was late in the afternoon when all the concerned people were present. Isaac conducted the formalities.

  ‘This interview is being recorded and is being held in Interview Room 2 at Challis Street Police Station. I am Detective Chief Inspector Isaac Cook. Miss O’Neill, could you please introduce yourself.’

  ‘Jessica O’Neill.’

  ‘Detective Inspector Ahmed,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I am Detective Inspector Mohammad Farhan Ahmed.’

  ‘Mr Wrightson.’

  ‘I am Michael Wrightson, Solicitor, of Wrightson, Loftus and Evans.’

  ‘The time, if we can agree, is 4.10 p.m. At the conclusion of the interview, Miss O’Neill, I will give you a notice explaining exactly what will happen to the tapes. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you understand the reason for the interview?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘Thank you. I would remind you that you're not under arrest, you need not remain here, and you are entitled to legal representation.’

  Farhan sat alongside Isaac, facing Jess O’Neill’s legal representative. Neither Isaac nor Farhan liked the look of him. He was a tall, slender man with pronounced features. The man spoke in a superior manner.

  ‘Miss O’Neill, thank you for coming in.’

  ‘I will answer all questions put forward, subject to my legal representative, Mr Wrightson, agreeing.’

  ‘That is fine, Miss O’Neill,’ Isaac responded.

  ‘Please call me Jess.’

  ‘Jess, it is,’ Isaac replied.

  She looked at Michael Wrightson. He nodded his head in affirmation and spoke to the microphone in the middle of the table. ‘That is acceptable.’

  ‘It is known that you argued with Charles Sutherland. Is that correct?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Argued, yes, but it hardly seems relevant.’

  ‘Why?’

  She looked over at Wrightson before responding. He nodded his head. ‘It’s part of my job to maintain momentum, to put everyone in their place. It’s a tight schedule on production days.’

  ‘Are you saying that you only argued on production days?’

  ‘I argue with a lot of people on production days, but nobody takes it seriously. Tensions are high, tempers are short, and some of the actors think they’re major stars, worthy of preferential treatment, kid gloves.’

  ‘Charles Sutherland. One of those?’

  ‘Charles Sutherland and Marjorie Frobisher were the worst.’

  ‘We will come to Marjorie Frobisher later.’ Isaac realised he could not go too easy on her, and besides, Farhan was there as well. He could not be seen to be weak in front of his junior.

  ‘My client is not sure where this is proceeding.’ Wrightson felt the need to speak. ‘Miss O’Neill has not been formally charged. Why is she here?’

  ‘I am informed that Miss O’Neill had more than a dislike for Charles Sutherland. It has come to my knowledge that she had a hatred of the man.’

  ‘That is not correct,’ Jess protested.

  ‘My client does not need to respond to that accusation,’ Wrightson said. Isaac had had enough of the man; his input was obstructive.

  ‘I am not asking Miss O’Neill to incriminate herself. I am purely giving her the opportunity to confirm her hatred for this man categorically and why. It is understood that there may have been reluctance before. The previous times that we spoke were unofficial and unrecorded. It is imperative that your client is entirely honest with us.’

  Jess turned to Wrightson. ‘Michael, what should I do?’

  ‘May we halt this interview for five minutes,’ Wrightson asked. ‘I need to advise my client as to her legal position.’

  ‘4.25 p.m. Interview with Miss Jessica O’Neill halted.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Wrightson said.

  ‘I’ll send in some coffee. Take as long as you like. We’ll be outside.’

  ‘Make it tea for me.’ Jess managed a weak smile.

  Isaac and Farhan left the room.

  ***

&n
bsp; ‘Michael, what am I to do?’ Jess turned to face Wrightson.

  ‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘I know, but it’s a clear motive.’

  ‘It will look worse if you don’t speak now. DCI Cook, what’s the situation with him?’

  ‘I like him. He likes me. No more than that.’

  ‘He seems to be going gentle on you. Did you sense it?’

  ‘He seemed very rough to me.’

  ‘I’ve been in these places before. He’s trying to help. It would be best if you trust him with this information. I’m not only your legal representative, I’m also married to your sister. I’m family. I suggest you state clearly the full story in your own time, make a statement.’

  ‘Why? There was no one else there.’

  ‘It always comes out. One day, when the pressure’s on the police to wrap up the case, when they have a suspect in mind, you will let it slip. I just don’t think you’re a good enough actor not to let it out.’

  ‘Not good enough for the soap I produce?’

  ‘You may be good enough for that.’

  ‘I will follow your advice.’

  ‘Good. If they find out later that you lied here today, they will have a clear motive.’

  ‘It is a motive, you know that,’ Jess said.

  ‘People have murdered for less.’ Michael Wrightson hoped his sister-in-law had seen sense. He was sure she had.

  ***

  Ninety minutes after exiting the interview room, Isaac and Farhan returned.

  ‘Interview recommenced 5. 55 p.m.’ Isaac said.

  ‘My client wishes to make a statement,’ Wrightson said. Isaac hoped it was not a confession.

  ‘Miss O’Neill, you are aware of what you are saying?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then please commence.’

  ‘Charles Sutherland was a thoroughly despicable man.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Farhan felt the need to speak. He could see why Isaac was drawn to her. Even in a moment of sadness, which was etched on her face, she was still lovely. He wanted to put an arm around her and tell her it wasn’t all that bad.

  ‘Please allow my client to make her statement,’ Wrightson said.

  ‘Charles Sutherland,’ she repeated the statement from the start, ‘was a thoroughly despicable man. I can only feel intense hatred towards him. His death did not cause me any sadness. On the contrary, I was relieved and pleased to hear that he had met an unpleasant fate. The question as to why I feel relief, and why I hated him so much, is for me to explain.

  ‘I came from a sexually abusive and violent childhood. It is something that I do not talk about. I do not want to speak about it now. On the advice of my legal representative, Michael Wrightson, who also happens to be my brother-in-law, I am making this statement. I am well aware that what I am about to tell you would form the basis for murder.

  ‘I must state here and now, that I was not involved in the murder of this man, although the person who did kill him has my gratitude.

  ‘As a child with a stepfather who treated the female children as his personal property for his obscene sexual gratification, I am well aware of what constitutes abuse and improper behaviour. My stepfather died when I reached the age of fourteen, early enough for me to forget the horrors of what he inflicted on me and my sister, Michael’s wife. Even Michael does not know the full extent of what transpired in that evil house, and never will. My sister still suffers some lasting effects. For me, I have completely adjusted, never forgotten, but it has not caused me anguish since about my sixteenth birthday.

  ‘Since then, there have been several men in my life, good men, who have always treated me with the greatest respect. Let me come to Charles Sutherland.

  ‘Two weeks before his leaving the programme, I went to see him in his dressing room. It was late at night, sometime after 10 p.m. and I don’t believe anyone else, apart from the two of us, were out at the production lot. I wanted to discuss his part and the script change for the next day. I would often do that with the other members of the cast, even with Charles Sutherland, so there was no reason for me not to go and see him.

  ‘I found him in his room, drunk, from what I could see. I did not realise that he had been snorting cocaine until he became insistent that I take some with him. He was in an unusual mood, even for him.

  ‘He became more demanding, trying to force me, attempting to grab me and to make me have a drink with him, to lighten up. I tried to leave the room, but he locked the door and put the key down the front of his trousers. He was baiting me to take the key from him. I was in a state, and at that moment, I saw my stepfather there. I kicked at him, attempted to hit him. I shouted at the top of my voice, but no one responded. The more I reacted, the more excited he became. I’ve seen him before in a similar situation, but now it was extreme, and I was on my own.

  ‘He came at me, grabbed me by my shoulder and threw me on the ground. He ripped off my blouse, started fondling me, and all the time I was screaming. He tried to pull off my skirt, but I managed to take control of the situation and kneed him in the groin with all the force I could muster. He collapsed in agony. I quickly regained the key and left. That’s the end of my statement.’

  Nobody spoke for some time. Wrightson was the first. ‘You must understand that what Miss O’Neill has told you is of great embarrassment to her. It is clear that she is distraught and should be excused from further questioning.’

  ‘Agreed. Interview concluded at 6.20 p.m.’ Isaac said.

  Jess left in tears with Michael Wrightson supporting her. Isaac wanted to rush up to her, put his arms around her, and kiss her, but he did not.

  ‘It’s a good enough motive for murder,’ Farhan said after she had left the building. Isaac did not answer.

  Chapter 17

  Angus MacTavish was not pleased when Richard Goddard phoned to make an appointment. He relented when told that confidentiality in relation to Charles Sutherland’s death and Marjorie Frobisher could not be guaranteed. He was also concerned that she had been confirmed alive four weeks after her disappearance.

  As usual, they met in MacTavish’s office in Downing Street. ‘Detective Superintendent, what have we got here?’ MacTavish asked. He was not friendly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This Frobisher woman still remains hidden from sight, and then we have a failed actor threatening to sound off to a magazine about something earth shattering. What’s going on?’

  ‘I think that is a question you could answer.’

  ‘What do you mean? Are you suggesting I’m involved?’

  ‘Not personally, but you know more than I do. You’ve admitted that much in the past.’

  ‘Certainly, I know more than you. My requirement was to keep her quiet. We would never condone murder.’

  ‘It’s important that I receive more information.’

  ‘I don’t see that I am at liberty to give you much more.’

  ‘Then I don’t see how I can protect you or whoever you’re trying to protect.’

  Richard Goddard knew he was in treacherous waters. There was a promotion he wanted, and he was aware that getting on the wrong side of MacTavish, who answered to the prime minister, who was good friends with Commissioner Charles Shaw, the senior man in the Metropolitan Police, was not ideal.

  ‘Detective Superintendent, of course you’re right. Let’s look at it from where I’m sitting. Sutherland’s death may be totally unrelated. Correct?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘What sort of man was he?’

  ‘Unpleasant, heavily into alcohol, recreational drugs and prostitutes, if he had the money.’

  ‘Gambling?’

  ‘Gambling as well, but that’s taken us nowhere so far. We haven’t found any evidence of anyone hassling him to pay up.’

  ‘And if he’s dead, he won’t be paying anyway.’

  ‘He was aiming to make a lot of money by selling his story. A gambling syndicate would wait their
time before threatening him.’

  ‘Then who killed him?’

  ‘You mentioned the security services before.’

  ‘I’ve checked with my contacts. They say it’s not feasible. A kill would require paperwork. The official line is that it doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Do you trust them?’

  ‘Not entirely.’

  ‘The motive for killing Sutherland is still unclear.’

  Angus MacTavish, at a loss on how to move it forward, excused himself from the office. A minute later, Mrs Gregory came through the door with a fresh pot of tea and some more biscuits. Richard Goddard teased her about his attempts to lose weight. She laughed, told him not to worry and left the room. It was thirty-five minutes before MacTavish returned. The detective superintendent had drunk all the tea in that time, looked out the window, and stroked the cat that had wandered in. He sensed the politician had been taking instructions.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ MacTavish apologised.

  ‘Not a problem.’

  ‘I told my superiors that I need to take you into our confidence.’

  ‘They agreed?’

  ‘Reluctantly. I’ve told them that you cannot find Marjorie Frobisher or solve Sutherland’s murder without additional facts.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘There was a child,’ MacTavish said.

  ‘You mentioned this before.’

  ‘The father is important, the child more so.’

  ‘The child, does it know who its parents are?’

  ‘Not yet, but it is trying to find out.’

  ‘How old would this child be?’

  ‘Late thirties, early forties.’

  ‘Do you know who this child is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know who the father is?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then where is the complication? Surely you can stop the child finding out.’

  ‘It cannot be stopped for much longer.’

  ‘What if the father made a public statement, acknowledged the errors of the past, embraced the child as part of his long-lost family?’

  ‘It’s more serious than that. I’ve told you as much as I can,’ MacTavish said. ‘Any more would place you and your people in a precarious position.’