by P. F. Ford
"At this time of the morning? Are you mad? And does it really need six PCs and two detectives to ask me these questions?"
"Oh, they're not here to ask questions, Mr Rossiter," smiled Slater, who was actually just as happy as Norman in this situation. "Two of them are here to escort you to Tinton police station, and the other four are going to search your house."
"I know my rights," said Rossiter, angrily. "You can't search my house without a search warrant, and unless you're some kind of magician you're not going to get one at this time of the morning."
"Oh, really?" said Slater. "Well, it just so happens..."
He pulled the search warrant from his pocket with a flourish.
"Now, that's magic," said Norman, slipping into a very poor impression of magician Paul Daniels.
There were sniggers all round from the six PCs.
"Give me that," snapped Rossiter snatching the search warrant from Slater's hand.
"It's genuine," said Slater, leading the way through the front door. "D'you really think we're that stupid? Come on lads, let's get on with it."
"What's going on," called a voice from the top of the stairs. "Bruce? Why are there policemen in the hall?"
"It's DS Slater and DS Norman, Mrs Rossiter," Slater called up to her as Norman began directing the search team. "We have a search warrant to search the house. I think it might be best if you come down to the kitchen."
"But why are you here?" she asked as she walked slowly down the stairs. "What are we supposed to have done?"
"It's to do with the death of Diana Woods," explained Slater. "I'm afraid we need to ask your husband some more questions."
"It's a bloody joke," said Rossiter. "They're trying to set me up. I've already told them I was here with you when she died."
"Yeah," said Slater. "You did tell us that. But I'm afraid there's a bit of a problem there. You see, your wife says you didn't get home until after seven."
"What?" said Rossiter, turning to his wife. "What did you tell them that for?"
"But I can't lie to the police, Bruce," she said. "It's against the law. I don't know what they think you've done, but I can't lie for you, can I?"
She turned her back on him and marched off into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her.
"Why are you doing this?" Rossiter called after her, desperately. "You know I was here with you. We had dinner just after six!"
"I think that's enough questions for now, Mr Rossiter," said Slater. "We're going to take you down to the station where you will be formally interviewed."
"You've put her up to this, haven't you?" roared Rossiter to Slater. "I don't know why, but she's lying. I was here before six o'clock that night, just like I told you."
He made to lunge at Slater but the two PCs waiting to escort him away were far too quick for him and they easily held him back.
"I think you need to calm down, Mr Rossiter," said Slater. "Assaulting a police officer isn't going to help you, now is it?"
"This is a joke," snarled Rossiter. "You're making a big mistake. I already told you I had nothing to do with Diana's death."
Slater nodded his head at the two PCs and they released Rossiter's arms.
"Yes, yes," said Slater. "So you did, but unfortunately for you we keep finding evidence that points to you being a whole lot more involved than you claim. And you're not averse to a bit of lying, are you? You lied about your affair with Diana, didn't you?"
"But I've already admitted that," said Rossiter, then a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute. Is that it? You told my wife, didn't you? You told her about me and Diana. That's why she's lying for you."
"If she knows about your affair, Mr Rossiter, she didn't hear about it from us," said Slater. "And she's not lying for us. I don't know what makes you think that."
"Because she's not telling you the truth," pleaded Rossiter. "I was here way before six, just like I told you. You have to believe me!"
"I don't have to believe anything, and I don't take orders from the likes of you," said Slater. "Now I think it's time you left. You can have five minutes to get dressed, before these two officers take you in, but they go where you go."
"You can't do this. I demand to see my solicitor," snapped Rossiter.
"All in good time, sir," smiled Slater. "You can call him when you get to the police station. Now do you want to get changed? Or would you like to go dressed as you are?"
"You'll regret this," said Rossiter. "You've got the wrong man."
"That's what they all say," smiled Slater.
"And I don't know what it is you're hoping to find," continued Rossiter. "But I can assure you it's not here."
"They all say that as well," said Slater.
He nodded to the two PCs.
"Take Mr Rossiter upstairs to get changed," he said. "And then take him to the station. And remember he doesn't leave your sight, even if he wants to relieve himself."
They moved towards Rossiter, but he didn't fancy being manhandled again, so he turned and made his way towards the staircase. As the prisoner slowly made his way up the stairs, accompanied by how two new friends, Slater decided he ought to find out what Angela Rossiter was up to in the kitchen.
He found her, sipping tea from an oversize mug, staring out at her garden. She looked round as he came through the door. To his surprise the beginnings of a smile began to creep across her face, then, seeing his expression, she seemed to think better of it.
"What exactly is it he's supposed to have done?" she asked.
"It's to do with Diana's death. That's all I can tell you really," he replied.
"But why search the house?" she said. "What are you looking for?"
"Anything that might help us with our enquiries," he said.
"You surely don't think he murdered her, do you?" she asked. "Bruce is a lot of things that aren't very nice, but I don't think even he's capable of murder."
"I really can't comment on that," said Slater.
"Oh my god," she said. "You do, don't you? You think he murdered Diana. But why would he do that? She was the best PA he ever had."
"How well did you know Diana?" asked Slater.
"I told you before," she said. "I met her at a couple of work events. She was a nice person and we hit it off. I really liked her. She was very good with people. She even helped me out with a couple of fundraisers, and we were planning another one."
"What about her relationship with your husband? Was it just professional?" he asked.
"She was his PA, end of story. Why are you asking me about her relationship with Bruce? What are you implying?" she demanded.
Slater sighed. He really didn't want to have to tell her, but she knew what he was getting at.
"It's been suggested your husband and Diana were, well, let's say their relationship may have been more than just professional."
"Well, whoever told you that is wrong," she said, emphatically. "Don't get me wrong, I know Bruce is no saint, but we have an agreement. I don't care what he does when he's away, but he doesn't do it in my backyard where I could end up getting humiliated."
"And you're sure he sticks to that agreement?" asked Slater.
"Bruce loves his money, and his lifestyle, Mr Slater. If I catch him out, I'll divorce him, and take him to the cleaners in the process. And, trust me, I know enough about the way he works and who he's shafted over the years to be able to ruin his career. He wouldn't risk all that for a bit of nooky, would he? You don't shit in your own nest. That’s the saying, isn’t it? Besides, I'm quite sure Diana wouldn't have found him attractive physically. No-one else does. Anyway, she was much too nice to sink that low."
Slater didn't quite know what to say to that. Like Norman had suggested last time they spoke to her, he was finding it hard to believe what he was hearing. But he was spared having to say anything by a knock on the door. It opened a little way and a beaming face appeared. It was Norman. He held up an evidence bag.
"Looks like we hit the jackpot
," he said.
"What's that?" asked Angela Rossiter. "What have you got? Is it a mobile phone? It's not mine, is it? Where did you find it?"
"Whoa," said Norman. "Too many questions, Mrs R. That's our job. I can tell you we found it in a drawer next to your husband's bed, and I can tell you it's not yours. But that's all I am going to tell you."
"How's it going out there?" Slater asked Norman.
"We're just about done," said Norman.
Slater looked at his watch. It was just after seven. They were making good time. They might even be able to snatch a quick breakfast before they went on to Rochester and Dorset if they got a move on.
"We're going to leave you in peace now, Mrs Rossiter," he said. "I'm sorry we've had to do this, and I apologise for any mess we've left behind us."
"No, no. It's alright," she said. "I know you're only doing your jobs. It'll give me something to tell the girls at the W.I."
"She seemed to take that rather well," said Norman when they were back in their car. "What happened to the usual indignant rage about over-zealous policing, human rights, and all that stuff?"
"It was pretty weird," agreed Slater.
"Did you tell her why we were there?" asked Norman.
"Well, I had to," said Slater. "But she seemed to have more or less figured it out anyway."
"Does she believe old Porky was sharing his sausage with Diana now?" said Norman.
"That's the strange thing," said Slater. "She insists they had this agreement. He was allowed to do whatever he liked when he was away, but he couldn't do it back here where he might embarrass her. She's adamant he wouldn't risk it, and she's equally adamant Diana was way too nice to do such a thing."
"Was she for real?" asked Norman.
"Like you said before," said Slater. "I think she's either really intelligent, or really stupid."
"So, come on, which one is it?" asked Norman. "Sitting on the fence will only give you splinters in your backside."
"I can't believe she's really that naive," said Slater.
"Me neither," agreed Norman.
It was a slightly different team that descended upon the headquarters of Rochester & Dorset (Marketing) Ltd at precisely eight o'clock that morning. Although they were quite sure there would be plenty to find, should they wish to look, they had decided to focus solely upon the things they knew related to the murder of Diana Woods. This included the Peugeot van, Rossiter's office and desk, Diana's desk, and the CCTV footage.
Slater led the way to the reception area. Of course, there were none of the usual staff around that early, but that was the plan. It took five minutes of ringing and banging on the door, but eventually the caretaker appeared.
"We're closed. There's no-one here," he mouthed through a window. "Come back at nine."
Slater slapped his warrant card and the search warrant against the window, making it clear he was in mood to be messed around. The caretaker squinted through the window briefly, and then quickly decided it wasn't within his job description to get in the way of the police. If they wanted to come in, he was only too pleased to let them.
"Sorry," he mumbled to Slater, as he opened the door and waved them into the reception area. "Only I'm not supposed to let anyone in who's not staff."
"Don't worry about it," said Slater. "We're in now. I have a search warrant here."
"Yes. So I can see," said the caretaker. "What you looking for?"
"Have you got keys to the garage round the back?" asked Slater. "We need to get at the Peugeot van."
"I've got them here in my pocket," he said.
He took a key-ring with four keys from his pocket and handed it to Slater.
"Will you need it for long?" he asked. "Only I'm going to the cash and carry this morning, to get some cleaning stuff."
"I'd use another vehicle if I were you," advised Norman. "We're going to take it away."
"But I haven't got another vehicle," said the caretaker.
"You could try the bus," suggested Norman.
"We also need the keys to start it," said Slater.
"They'll be in it," said the caretaker. "None of the lazy buggers ever brings 'em back in here like they're supposed to."
Slater handed the keys over to Ian Becks.
"Just follow the 'deliveries' sign," he directed Becks. "You'll find the garages opposite the back doors. The van's in the one on the left as you look at them."
"Right," said Becks. "We'll do a quick check, then shove it onto the trailer and take it back to our workshops."
"Good luck," said Slater. "We'll see you later."
He turned back to the caretaker.
"We want the CDs the CCTV is stored on," he said.
"They'll be in the TV room at the back of reception," said the caretaker, pointing to a door in the far corner. "Here, I'll show you."
He led them across to the door, swung it open and led them inside. A desk faced a wall bearing several screens showing views from the CCTV cameras.
"They'll be in that top drawer," he said, pointing to a desk with two drawers.
"And we want access to Mr Rossiter's office," said Slater.
He slipped on a pair of latex gloves as he walked across to the desk and slid open the drawer.
"I don't know which office is which," said the caretaker. "But they're all unlocked so I could clean 'em. If you know which one it is, you can help yourself."
"Yeah, we know where it is," said Norman. "We can find our way up there okay."
"Is that it?" asked the caretaker. "Do you need anything else?"
"No we're good," said Norman. "You've been very helpful Mister?"
"Swan," said the caretaker.
"Yes, thank you Mr Swan," said Slater.
"Can I go now?" he asked.
"D'you think you could hang on until someone else gets here?" asked Norman. "Just in case we need anything else."
"I suppose," agreed the caretaker, gloomily. "I just hope it's not that snotty bitch from HR that gets here first. She'll chew my balls off for this."
"For what?" asked Norman.
"Letting you lot in, probably," he grumbled. "Miserable cow. She's always moaning about something."
"Let me guess," said Norman. "Mrs Rowntree, right?"
"Oh you've met her, then," smiled the caretaker.
"Let's just say we're not her favourite people," Norman smiled back.
"You certainly won't be this morning, that's for sure," he laughed. "Is it alright if I go and make meself a cup of tea?"
"Sure," said Norman. "Just hang around the reception area so we can find you if we need to."
"Well, there's ten disks here," said Slater, rummaging through the drawer. "And they're marked with letters, but I've no idea which one is which."
"Take 'em all," said Norman. "I've got a bag here. We can find out which is which later on."
He opened a plastic bag and Slater placed the disks carefully inside.
"I didn't expect to see you two here this morning," said a familiar voice from the doorway.
They looked round to see the smiling face of Millie Gibson watching them.
"Morning, Millie," said Slater. "D'you know how these CCTV disks are marked?"
"There should be a blue book, A5 size, in that drawer," she said. "It's a dead simple system. We just record the date, and the letter of the disk."
"There's no book in here," he said, turning back to the drawer.
She walked over and peered around him into the drawer.
"That's funny," she said. "It's always in there. It's not supposed to be removed."
"Who's responsible for keeping the records?" asked Norman.
"Me, and Frosty," said Millie. "I don't think anyone else is even aware we have CCTV. Most of them think the cameras are dummies."
"When did you last see the book?" asked Slater.
"Yesterday morning," she said. "I usually change the disks when I come in."
"Does anyone else have access to this room apart from you two?
" asked Norman.
"Well, we don't keep it locked, so anyone could come in here if they wanted," she said. "But I've never known anyone else come in here."
"What the hell's going on here?" demanded Celia Rowntree, marching fiercely through the doorway. "What are you two doing here? I told you before you're not welcome. Who allowed you into the building?"
"This allowed us into the building," said Slater, thrusting the search warrant towards her.
But she wasn't listening to him. Through the wonders of CCTV, she was watching Ian Becks loading the Peugeot onto his trailer.
"What's that man doing? Who said he could take that van away?"
"I did," said Slater. "This search warrant does, if you'll just stop carping long enough to read it."
"How dare you speak to me like that!" she snapped, indignantly.
Then she suddenly realised Millie was in the room, watching the whole show.
"Don't you have any work to do, Millie," she hissed.
"Yes," said Millie, guiltily. "Sorry. I'll get on."
Celia waited for Millie to leave the room and then rounded on the two detectives again, but it was Norman who spoke first.
"If you'll just stop with the righteous indignation stuff," he said. "And listen to what he's telling you, you'll see we have a search warrant. We're taking the van for forensic examination, we're seizing the CCTV footage from the day Diana Woods died, and we're going to search Bruce Rossiter's desk, and Diana's desk."
"Bruce won't allow you to do that," she said.
"I don't think he's in a position to stop us," said Slater, testily. "And anyway, he doesn't have to allow it. This search warrant allows it, if you'll only stop and read it."
"But there will be staff in that room-" she began.
"There are no buts," interrupted Slater. "We have an officer posted outside that room turning staff away until we've finished. Now you can either co-operate with us, or we can get a much more extensive search warrant, come back with a small army, and turn the whole building upside down. Which do you prefer?"
She had finally decided to take a look at the search warrant. As she did, she began to realise it didn't look like she had much choice, and slowly she began to lose her attitude.
"Right. Well, that seems to be in order," she said, awkwardly, when she had finished reading. "So how can I help you?"
