Death's Privilege

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘Sarah, meet Poppy White. Taryn’s little sister.’

  ‘Excuse me, who?’

  ‘Taryn. Crazy Taryn who you’ve just nicked.’

  ‘That woman who was about to knock your door through? That was Leilani Hayes.’

  Moretti gave her a blank look. ‘No, it’s not. I don’t know anyone by that name.’

  Dales stood with another officer at the back of Mavenswood station. Poppy had agreed to come and speak to a member of the Child Protection Team about what had happened. It was a step towards her helping the case, but for now all Sarah cared about was that she was safe. Moretti was gone. Sarah had watched her drive away with her son. According to the rule book, she should have brought her in then and there. Knowing she had no intention of returning for her bail date gave her a power, and a responsibility, to arrest her to prevent her skipping court. She’d traded that for Poppy’s welfare.

  Poppy didn’t have much. Everything she owned was in the rucksack Sally-Anne had packed for her, which Sarah held in her hand. Moretti hadn’t mentioned the emerald necklace and Sarah hadn’t asked. Strictly speaking, she should return it to Sheila’s family, but they weren’t likely to want it. Poppy seemed to like it, and it was best she kept it. She’d called Dales and filled him in on the details on the way back.

  ‘Hello. Poppy, is it?’ Poppy didn’t look at him. Just nodded. Sarah shook her head. Poppy had sat in the back of the Getz in complete silence on the way back. The likelihood of her talking to a strange new man was pretty slim. ‘This is DC Bhaduri. She’s an officer here with the Child Protection Team who wants to talk to you about what happened.’

  ‘Hi, Poppy. You can call me Asha.’ DC Bhaduri gave a little wave with her right hand. ‘Let’s go upstairs, get you a drink and find somewhere to have a chat.’

  ‘Okay, Poppy. If you go with Asha, I’ll come and see you soon.’ Sarah mouthed a thank you as they went in the rear entrance of the police station.

  ‘Asha’s been in CPT for years. She’ll get through to her.’ Dales opened the back door and they walked upstairs.

  ‘How’s everything going here?’

  ‘Searches are ongoing. Joel and Hayward are turning over the house. Interview teams are getting ready to go in to get an initial account from Hayes. There are plenty of outstanding actions to be done. MCT are here, which has been a nice little reunion,’ said Dales.

  ‘I can never tell when you’re being sarcastic. What’s Semples said?’

  ‘That’s been slow going. We’ve been taking breaks every ten minutes with not much coming out in between. So far, we’ve talked about their history. They go way back and he’s clearly besotted with her. When I go back in, I’m going straight after the difficult answers. More importantly than that, we’ve had the drugs report back. It’s clean.’

  ‘Clean?’

  ‘The cocaine Sheila took, in the amounts we suspect she took it, shouldn’t have killed her.’

  CID was packed. The power-suited MCT detectives stood out from the rest. Pinstriped navy, slate grey, pitch black. Pink and bright blue shirts, not a standard-issue CID lilac in sight. Wizened men and stern-looking women, all at the top of their game. Uniformed officers put brown paper exhibit bags into clear plastic bags and sealed them with tie-wraps, shouting numbers and times to the youngest-looking team member, who dutifully noted them down. Their sergeant brought out a tray of steaming tea to keep her troops marching. Blue-shirted SOCOs sat at the next pod along, typing their statements and updating notes on crime scene record templates. Food runs had been done and there wasn’t a pod without a plastic box of some sugary snack on the end of it. It was the busiest Sarah had ever seen the office.

  She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. All the cupboards were open and the tea and coffee stashes lined up on the sideboard for everyone to share. Guests in the office would normally pop a few pence in a jar whenever they took a teabag, but with so many officers from across the county here working on the poisoning case, Sarah assumed an amnesty was called given the circumstance. It was a nice gesture, especially so as she was out of red berry tea and C Rota had an entire box full. She made two cups and carried them back to her desk.

  ‘I’ve updated Manford on Poppy. He’ll set some actions once Asha’s obtained a first account. Leilani’s been further arrested for blackmailing Joel and causing a minor to engage in sexual activity. I let them know about her link to setting up the meeting, so she’s been nicked for that too. MCT are going to put a first account interview into her.’

  ‘So, what’s next on the list for us?’

  ‘Sit tight and wait. Manford doesn’t want us getting into anything else if something urgent comes up from the Poppy case.’

  ‘I can’t just sit here.’ Sarah was eager to keep going. Stopping would only give her the time to reflect on the day, something she didn’t want to do just yet. Given too long to sit and think about it right now would only leave her in a gibbering mess in the corner of the office. She needed to stay busy, stay useful and stay contributing as much as she could. ‘Do you know what name she gave in custody?’ Sarah logged into NSPIS.

  ‘Leilani Hayes, I expect. Why’d you ask?’

  ‘Because that’s not her name. Moretti’s known her for years and says it’s Taryn White. She drew a complete blank when I mentioned the name we know her by. Joel said she gave the name Naomi. He thought it was to keep her anonymous on an online dating site. It’s clearly more sinister than that.’ Her NSPIS record confirmed she’d given Leilani Hayes to the custody sergeant.

  ‘Sarah Gladstone, is it?’ An unusually tall man in a grey suit stood holding an investigator’s notebook by his side.

  ‘Mike Bosden. Didn’t think I’d see you out this far. Money tight? Having to scam the mileage expenses claims?’ Dales took the opportunity to take a dig at his old colleague.

  ‘Dales.’

  ‘Yes, I’m Sarah.’

  ‘I’m DS Bosden, MCT. I’m on the interview team for Leilani Hayes. We’ve just been down there to talk to her and she’s being belligerent and refusing to come out of her cell.’

  ‘Sounds about right.’

  ‘Unless she’s interviewed by you.’

  Twenty-Six

  ‘All you have to do is follow the plan.’ Bosden had given her his interview plan prior to them coming down to custody. It wasn’t like the basic ones she was used to writing. It had detailed timelines, boxes for different topics and all three pages were peppered with bullet points highlighted in various colours. Sarah had spent some time reading through it and was fascinated by the way Bosden organised the information from the case. ‘This won’t be the only time we interview her. This first one is going to be very basic; we’re just going to ask her to account for knowledge of Enderson, Goddard and Hargreaves. If she’s talking, we’ll probe a little more. We’re going to film it too. It’s nothing to be overly conscious about. Once we get started, you won’t even think about the cameras.’ Sarah nodded. ‘Are you okay being in there? We wouldn’t normally put you so close to the suspect, given the nature of the case.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Just so you know, it wasn’t my decision. We don’t tend to pander to suspects. She should be interviewed by whomever we send down and if she doesn’t answer questions because of that, we’ve given her opportunity and that’s the end of it.’ His stone-face suggested he was already fed up with Leilani, and he’d hardly even met her. ‘She’s a suspect for conspiracy to murder, not a diva shouting demands from her changing room.’

  Sarah smiled at his analogy. They waited by the custody desk for Sergeant Smith to sign them out some tapes for interview. He handed Sarah a small printed sheet of paper. She signed her name and took two sealed discs from him.

  ‘You okay with this, Gladstone?’ Sergeant Smith furrowed his brow, seeming to question the decision to let her interview and her ability to do so with one simple facial expression.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got DS Bosden with me, who I’m sure will ste
er me in the right direction if needed.’

  The solicitor’s room door opened and Mr Bells popped his head into the corridor and shouted they were ready. ‘Ahh. DC Gladstone. Nice to see you again. My client seems very fond of you.’

  ‘She does?’

  ‘I struggled to keep her on topic in consultation. Sarah this; Sarah that.’

  ‘Really? I can assure you Mr Bell, there is no fondness of any kind between the two of us.’

  ‘Odd.’ Mr Bell flicked through his notes, pushed his bottom lip up causing his mouth to frown and let out a Hmm.

  ‘Mr Bell, just to be upfront, Mark Gladstone, one of the victims we will be talking to your client about, is DC Gladstone’s husband.’ Bosden looked pensive. Sarah wondered if he wanted Mr Bell to cause a fuss so he could go in with his partner from MCT, rather than have a rookie tagging along for the ride.

  The veteran solicitor looked at them both. ‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

  ‘It’s unusual, but the Senior Investigating Officer signed off on it. Do you have any representations?’

  Mr Bell thought for a minute, rubbing his hand on his bristled grey stubble. ‘Let’s start and see how we go. If it all starts to get too personal and goes off track, I’ll make my representations on the tape and explain my reasons. I can’t guarantee defence counsel won’t have a problem at trial. In fact, I’m confident they’ll make a song and dance about it. Ready to start?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sarah followed Bosden and Mr Bell into the interview room and closed the door behind her.

  ‘The time by my watch is 14:25 on Friday the nineteenth of September 2010. We are in an interview room at Mavenswood Police Station. This interview is being recorded on tape and video. My name is DC Gladstone—’

  ‘No, it isn’t. You’re not a detective. You’re a fraud.’ The response officers who’d transported her back to the station had seized Leilani’s clothes. She sat across from Sarah wearing a blue disposable one-piece paper suit and black plimsolls. Her hair clips had been removed and her jewellery taken.

  ‘My name is DC Gladstone, collar number 310105, and I am based here at Mavenswood CID. Also present is...’

  ‘DS Mike Bosden, 311213, MCT.’

  ‘And…’

  ‘Mr Bell of Bell and Foster Solicitors.’

  ‘Please give your name and date of birth for the tape.’

  ‘Leilani Hayes. None of your business.’

  Sarah glanced at Mr Bell. He scratched his head and looked apologetically exasperated. Solicitors’ discussions with their clients were never disclosed, but Sarah got the impression Leilani had tested his patience. She’d decided to let the name issue slide at this stage. It’d only lead to a back and forth argument that she wouldn’t win.

  ‘You have the right to free and independent legal advice and your solicitor is here to assist with this interview. This is an ongoing right and if at any time you feel the need to consult with your solicitor, let me know and I’ll stop the tape and allow you to do so in private.

  ‘You were cautioned when you were arrested and I will caution you again. 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, and anything you do say, may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’

  ‘No. Explain it.’ Leilani folded her arms. Mr Bell sighed.

  ‘The caution comes in three parts. The first refers to your right to silence and it means what it says. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. The second part explains a caveat to that. If you do fail or refuse to answer my questions today, and this matter goes to court where you’re asked the same or similar questions and provide a different account, the jury may be directed to question your honesty. And lastly, this interview is being recorded and may be given in evidence.’

  Leilani tapped her nails on the desk. Sarah saw red lines around her wrists where in her rage just hours before, she’d strapped the cuffs on a little too tight. She swallowed, thinking about how disruptive emotions and the power to remove another’s liberty were a dangerous combination, and how she had to, not suppress, but remain in charge of her feelings towards her suspect until the interview was over.

  ‘So, let me get this straight. If I cheated on my husband and someone asked me about it, and I lied, saying I didn’t do it. Then, a little later, I try lying about it again. But this time my story is a little different, maybe because I lie so much and to everyone that I simply can’t keep track of my own bullshit. That person can then say: Can I trust anything this person says because she’s lied about the same thing twice? I think I get it.’ Leilani’s gleeful expression explained why she wanted Sarah to interview her. Leilani knew her secret, and having Sarah close allowed her to exploit it.

  ‘That and whatever you say is being recorded.’ Hold it together.

  ‘Gotcha.’

  Sarah looked at the plan. What had appeared to be a well-organised, detailed system designed to allow the interviewing officer to flow seamlessly from topic to topic now looked like a series of incomprehensible boxes and meaningless colours. Leilani looked a little smug and the men sitting to their right were none the wiser about the conversation they were having. Mr Bell sat crossed-legged writing something on his pad. Sarah hadn’t fully briefed DS Bosden on the twisted triangle involving her, Leilani and her husband. He knew about the poisoning, but not the full range of pins Leilani had slid under her skin.

  Sarah held the plan tight. She had two simple tasks. Stick to the questions on the sheet and get to the end of the interview without leaping over the table and being arrested for assault herself. She scanned the top few lines and began reading her script.

  ‘You have been arrested on suspicion of conspiracy to murder, blackmail and threats to kill. You were arrested outside 12 Tower Road, where I heard you making threats to kill the occupant. When you were searched, you had a flick knife secreted in your waistband. Tell me what you were doing at 12 Tower Road?’

  ‘I woke up, went to Tower Road and then was arrested by you for no reason.’

  Mr Bells whispered something in Leilani’s ear. She didn’t react.

  ‘Who were you going to see?’

  ‘I don’t need to tell you that.’

  ‘Whilst you were outside 12 Tower Road, you shouted, “Let me in. Let me in or I’ll fucking kill you.” Who was that directed at?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything about any of this.’

  Mr Bell interjected. ‘As DC Gladstone correctly said, you do not have to tell her anything. I advise you use your right to silence during this interview. Answering no comment to questions posed is the standard method and the one I advise to use.’ He rubbed his forehead. Leilani was wilfully ignoring the advice he would have given her during their consultation.

  ‘Were you at the Oxlaine Hotel today?’

  ‘The cameras will tell you that.’ Leilani was right, of course. The cameras would tell them that. The Oxlaine was covered in cameras and they would have picked up Leilani’s movements as soon as Gareth was dragged out of bed to operate them. This was the account phase of the interview, the purpose of which was to obtain as much detail from the suspect as possible. Challenging her account would come later, when the investigation was a little further on. Leilani smiled from the side of her mouth, rolled her eyes at Bosden and mouthed the word amateur.

  Sarah could never conceal a blush. Her skin was too pale and her emotions ran too high, especially right there in that room. Within seconds she felt her cheeks redden. Leilani spotted it too and gave her that smug, content look Sarah was second by second growing to hate. It was far from the look she’d given her when they’d met, the look of the vulnerable victim. Part of Sarah still believed something had happened to her. Dales would say it was naivety, a reflection of her short service. Sarah thought otherwise. Despite all that had happened, Sarah still believed there was a vulnerable little girl deep within the woman sitting across from her, someone who’d been mistreated somewhere alo
ng the line. That was the Leilani Hayes she needed to speak to.

  ‘What did you do when you arrived?’

  ‘That’s personal.’

  Mr Bell gave up. He pushed his pen firmly to the page of his notebook. Sarah could just read the first part of the sentence Silence advised—Client wilfully... He folded his arms and looked up at the ceiling when he finished writing. Leilani glanced sideways and her eyes lit up a little, seeming to enjoy frustrating the man who was trying his best to help her.

  Sarah looked to her left and was disappointed to see Bosden smiling at Leilani with a look more suited for a bar room than an interview room. Sticking to the plan wasn’t going to work. Leilani was answering the questions, but saying nothing. Leilani couldn’t hide her smiles, and Sarah wanted to see whether she could cause her darker emotions to spread across her face. Anything for a way inside.

  ‘Who’s Scott Enderson?’ Nothing. Not even a flicker. Or maybe she was so far gone, any connection to her victims simply didn’t show. Moretti hadn’t been sure who’d killed Enderson. Either of them would have needed help to hang him. Valerie had Semples, who did Leilani have? ‘I don’t know anyone by that name.’

  ‘Sheila Hargreaves.’

  There it was. A little blink of recognition and a pause, slightly longer than her usual quick retort. Almost imperceptible, but Sarah saw it.

  ‘Who? I don’t know these people.’

  ‘Sheila Hargreaves was Sally-Anne Moretti’s girlfriend. She was given poison which resulted in her death.’

  There it was again. Leilani’s mouth, sometimes conceited, sometimes seductive, shrivelled as if gnawing on bitter fruit when hearing Hargreaves’ name. Or was it Moretti that turned her stomach. Just where is your weakness?

  ‘Has my client been directly implicated in Sheila Hargreaves’ death, Officers?’ Mr Bell spoke up, representing his client to the professional standards he was known for, despite her ignoring his advice.