‘I loved him.’
‘Stop it! The facts, not the platitudes. Don’t throw your guilt trip on me. It was you who walked out of the family house at sixteen, pregnant.’
‘I lost the baby.’
‘Screwing anyone you could get your hands on, including my boyfriend. What did you expect?’
‘But you married him.’
‘At nineteen, in a church, white dress. Naive back then, and I believed him when he told me he hadn’t been with you. I kicked him out after three years. Did you see him again?’
‘Never, but he seduced me. I couldn’t help myself.’
‘Rubbish. Nobody ever seduced you. No doubt the police think of you as Little Miss Perfect.’
‘I was seen in Hyde Park the day before Colin died. I can’t deny it forever, but what can I say?’
‘If I’m to help, you’d better start giving me the facts. The police will find out eventually, even about your past history.’
‘It was hushed up.’
‘Nothing’s hushed up, you know that. Tony’s up to God knows what, his wife’s having an adulterous relationship with a man young enough to be her son, another relationship overseas that ended up in the man’s death, you in jail. I’ll get you out of this mess for now, but I can’t guarantee that I can clear you of everything. Now, give me the answer straight. Did you kill Colin Young?’
‘No, I swear it.’
‘Don’t put your hand on a Bible for me. If you do that, then I know you’re lying.’
Gwen Hislop pushed her chair back and walked to the door. She knocked on it, a uniform opening it. ‘We’ll need something to drink, and any chance of some food?’
‘Pizza, sandwiches?’ the uniform replied.
‘A pizza and two cappuccinos, not the type that comes out of a vending machine.’
‘We have a standing order with a place next door. Cappuccinos, large or small?’
‘Large, and a pizza, Hawaiian will do. Thank you.’
Gwen sat down again, taking her laptop out from her bag. ‘Now, the facts, and don’t give me the sanitised version. You’re a tart, always were.’
Chapter 8
Wendy checked on Constables Taylor and Mortimer. Isaac and Larry would conduct the interview with Christine Mason and her sister when they were ready. The day was coming to a close, and the sky was darkening outside. Not that it concerned the Homicide team, as they were used to very long hours, with a minimum of sleep in between. But Christine Mason had a husband who was known to be difficult, and the woman wasn’t leaving until she had answered all the questions.
Mortimer had a reputation at Challis Street for leering, sidling up to the young women in the station; the printer room was ideal, just room enough for two to squeeze past each other. But there they were, Katrina Taylor and Mortimer, working alongside each other, laughing.
‘Sorry, Sergeant,’ Katrina said as Wendy walked in. ‘He told me why his parents named him after Elvis Presley.’
‘I’ve no problem with humour,’ Wendy said. ‘Any luck?’
‘We’ve reduced the search area. We’ve excluded south of the park. Knightsbridge and Kensington are no longer part of the search,’ Mortimer said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as we can be. We went out to a few hotels ourselves that looked promising, pulled in favours from some of the other uniforms.’
‘Favours? You’ve not been here that long in the station.’
‘Everyone likes a drink of a night. We’ve offered to pay.’
‘Good initiative, but not finding the man after so long is a worry. Are you sure you’ve been approaching this the right way?’
‘I’m sure we have,’ Katrina said. ‘Constable Mortimer set up a grid pattern for us, and we’ve been charting and then checking off the hotels one by one. We thought we had a promising lead in Kensington, but it wasn’t our man. Apart from that, nothing.’
‘Inspector Hill reckons that the man was in the area of Bayswater, Notting Hill, possibly Paddington. I’m not so sure, too close to the Fitzroy Hotel, the possibility that Christine Mason might have seen him.’
‘If you can narrow the search area, it will help,’ Mortimer said. ‘Katrina’s doing a great job.’
‘So’s Elvis,’ Katrina said.
Wendy wasn’t sure what to say. The two of them appeared to be very cosy. Maybe she was misreading the signals, but whatever it was, they were working as a capable team, although coming up with nothing.
‘We need to find out who this man is. If I have any more, the two of you will be the first to know.’
***
Finally, Christine Mason was ready. Isaac and Larry had taken the opportunity while waiting to pop out for a meal at a Chinese restaurant nearby. Wendy was in the office with Bridget, Larry taking her place, a fresh face to throw Christine Mason off balance.
The two women entered the interview room. Neither looked pleased to be there.
‘I hope this won’t take long,’ Gwen Hislop said.
‘We’ve a lot of unanswered questions,’ Isaac said.
The four sat down at the table. Isaac dealt with the formalities, noting the time and the names of those present.
‘Christine, you said before that you were not in Hyde Park. Do you still hold to that?’ Isaac asked.
The woman shifted uneasily in her seat, placing her hand on her sister’s arm. She did not speak.
‘I’ll answer for my client,’ Gwen Hislop said. ‘She wishes to change her previous statement.’
Larry sat forward on his chair, anxious to hear what was said. The woman’s sister, the lawyer, was easier to read: studious, sensibly dressed, obviously intelligent. Christine had the looks, not Gwen, although he wouldn’t have described her as unattractive, more a person who did not care whether a hair was out of place, or her lipstick was not applied to perfection.
‘Do you wish to make a statement on your client’s behalf?’ Isaac said.
‘Yes. My client is also my sister, as you know.’
‘The statement?’
‘Very well,’ Gwen said through gritted teeth. The chemistry between the two women was not good, both Isaac and Larry could see that. Maybe there was bad blood, a past history.
‘In your own time,’ Isaac said, the delay in the statement noticeable.
‘I don’t need instructions on how to conduct my business. Any coercion or attempt at railroading these proceedings will be noted. If you decide to use false evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, against my client, then how you and your inspector conduct this interview will be noted. A judge will take exception to anything other than the correct procedure being followed.’
Sister or no sister, Isaac thought, the woman was skilled, a worthy person to have on her sister’s side.
‘I need to make a phone call.’
‘Your prerogative.’
Isaac paused the interview; Gwen Hislop took out her mobile and dialled. ‘Tony, Christine’s staying with me for the night. Nothing to worry about. It’s just that I’ve got the flu, and she’s acting as a nursemaid.’
‘Will he believe that?’ Isaac asked. ‘How many years since you and Christine have seen each other?’
‘What he believes or does not is not your concern, is it?’
‘It is if it has a bearing on this investigation. We are led to believe that the relationship between Mrs Mason and her husband is strained, and you two don’t seem to be close.’
‘It’s not relevant.’
A hard woman, Isaac thought, whereas according to Wendy, Christine Mason was a mellow, friendly, easily-led woman. What secrets lurked behind locked doors? Was Gwen Hislop involved? And if so, then how?
The interview resumed, Isaac once again asking Gwen Hislop to read the statement. Once again, a delay.
‘I was there. I was in Hyde Park, it’s all true,’ Christine said. Her sister looked at her in disgust.
‘Leave it to me,’ Gwen said.
‘I loved him, and he w
as cheating on me. I know he was.’
‘How?’ Larry asked.
‘My sister is emotional. I will answer for her,’ Gwen said. ‘Please, Christine, let me tell them,’ she said, looking at her sister.
‘I’m sorry,’ Christine replied. Her eyes were moist, and she was shaking.
‘As you can see, my sister is a fragile person.’
‘The statement,’ Isaac reiterated.
‘I, Christine Mason, am innocent of the murder of Colin Young. I was in Hyde Park on the day mentioned, and I was there hoping to see him. But he never came. I knew that he ran around the park whenever he was in London, and I knew the route, having walked around it once with him. I was sure that he loved me, and he treated me well. And then I saw him in London, not far from the Fitzroy Hotel. I knew then that if he wasn’t with me, he was with someone else. I was frantic, unable to contain myself, and Tony was at home, and I had a job at the hotel. Somehow, I managed to continue, to pretend that nothing troubled me when it did. I did not kill him in Hyde Park, although I was angry and hurt that day that I was seen. I couldn’t have killed him, it wasn’t possible. He was my sanity, and now he’s gone.’
‘We’ll enter it into the record,’ Isaac said. ‘Now, Christine, we need to know two things. What was his real name, and where was he staying in London? You must know both of these.’
‘My sister does not. She is innocent, and unless you have further evidence, we will wish you goodnight.’
‘It’s not that easy, Miss Hislop. Your client has consistently lied, altering her story as it suits her. Firstly, she denied any knowledge of the man, and then we find out that he was her adulterous lover. And now, another revelation. What next? That she was in the park, determined to confront him and kill him? We’ll accept that when she was seen in the park, she did not see Young and that he was somewhere else. Where he was is critical, but first, we have to understand what we have here. Colin Young would not have been in the park on the day of his murder if he had been confronted by Christine on a previous occasion. A logical assumption, not cast iron, of course.’
‘Why not?’ Gwen asked.
‘Christine had an unhealthy relationship with this man. Maybe, to her, it was sweet and innocent, but she’s not a stupid woman. She must have realised there was something untoward about the man she was sleeping with, the credit card that was only used at the hotel, the phone number that kept changing. And how did you know that, Mrs Mason?’
‘I didn’t. I only knew the number of the last phone that he had. Before his number had been secret, and he only phoned me,’ Christine said.
‘Then why did he allow you to phone him on the last phone?’
‘He said he wanted us to be closer. To form a bond of trust between us.’
‘And you believed this?’
‘Yes.’
‘My sister has a Mills & Boon romantic notion of love,’ Gwen said.
‘Sugar and candy, innocent love, sweet words under the apple blossom tree? That sort of thing?’ Isaac said.
‘Exactly. Not the reality of love and lust and heaving bodies, words of love spoken in the heat of passion, rejected afterwards. If Christine says that she believed this man loved her, then she is not lying.’
‘A history of such relationships?’
‘Not necessarily adulterous, but yes.’
‘My sister does not like me,’ Christine said.
‘It does not affect the situation,’ Gwen said. ‘You’re family. I’ll support you whatever.’
‘Even if she committed murder?’ Larry asked.
‘Even then. He’s not the first man to break her heart. He won’t be the last.’
‘You’re not the sort to be susceptible.’
‘I’m not here being interviewed, my sister is.’
‘Christine, let us come back to when you saw him,’ Isaac said. ‘Where was this?’
‘I was walking to Paddington Station.’
‘Another SIM card to purchase for a guest?’
‘Not this time. I just needed to get out of the hotel, and it’s as good a walk as any other. I’m waiting to cross the road, and he drives by in the back of a taxi. He’s got a woman with him.’
‘Nothing you can do at the time?’
‘No.’
‘What did you do afterwards?’
‘I was confused, not sure what to do. I thought the worst.’
‘Any reason to?’
‘He was a lovely man. He could have had anyone. Why me?’
Gwen Hislop let out an audible sigh, rolled her eyes.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Gwen,’ Christine said.
Isaac ignored the friction between the two sisters, surprised that Gwen, a lawyer, was allowing personal issues to affect a police interview. Most unprofessional, he thought, realising that the hatred between the two ran deep.
‘The taxi? What did it look like? Did you get the number?’
‘Black, the same as all the others.’
‘Not a minicab?’
‘It was black.’
‘And the registration number?’
‘LD08 CYP.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I remember numbers, work with them all day.’
‘Photographic memory,’ Gwen said. ‘We had an aunt who thought she was a freak, scared her so much that she wouldn’t visit us. Not that we cared, she was a dragon.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’
‘I didn’t want to remember,’ Christine said.
‘Time and place?’
‘The corner of Praed and Spring Streets. 11.46 a.m. Five days ago.’
‘Photographic memory again?’
‘I looked on my phone, tried to take a photo.’
‘Did you?’
‘No, the lights changed, and the taxi took off.’
‘No more questions for now,’ Isaac said.
Four minutes later, the two sisters left the station. Eight minutes later, the team assembled in Homicide, this time joined by Katrina Taylor and Mortimer. It was close to midnight. No one was going to get much sleep that night.
***
Wendy was seriously annoyed with Christine Mason. ‘I gave her enough opportunities to come clean. It wasn’t as if we were moralising about her behaviour. As far as I was concerned, she could have been screwing every last member of the Household Cavalry.’
‘Ease up,’ Isaac said. He could understand her frustration, but anger wasn’t going to resolve anything, facts would.
‘Easy one, the registration number,’ Bridget said. ‘I’ve accessed the Automatic Number Plate Recognition database. Every registration is in there.’
‘A win,’ Larry said. ‘Any luck with the taxi’s movements.’
‘I can’t give you that. The taxi company will keep records, also the driver. It’s part of their conditions for the licence.’
‘Where are they? Who do we talk to?’
‘This time of the night may not be so easy. It’s not the same as it used to be, the twenty-four-hour phone number, the dispatcher radioing the location of the pick-up, the name, the destination. Nowadays, it’s online, on your phone.’
‘Who’s going to knock on a door?’ Isaac said.
‘I’ll go with Larry,’ Wendy said.
‘Constable Taylor, Constable Mortimer, any more to add?’
‘The taxis would have GPS tracking, and the taxi company will have fleet management software,’ Mortimer said.
‘Okay, everyone. Do what you can, and we’ll meet back here at six in the morning,’ Isaac said. ‘Try to get a few hours’ sleep if you can. If you can’t, then sorry.’
With the two constables out of the room, Isaac looked over at Bridget. ‘A handy man to have around,’ he said.
‘I thought he was on the way out,’ Wendy said, ‘and now he’s friendly with Katrina.’
‘You think that something’s going on?’
‘Takes all sorts. She’s pretty, and he’s no oil painting. St
ill, Christine Mason fell for a young man; he for her, supposedly.’
Chapter 9
Isaac arrived home at twenty past two in the morning. It had been some time since Jenny had spoken to him in anything other than a manner that could be described as terse, although she had otherwise been agreeable, had ensured that he had an early breakfast, a meal in the microwave or the oven on his return. She had even discussed the trip to Jamaica, made it clear that she understood, and how important his work was, and that people could walk the streets at night due to his efforts.
Isaac had thought the ‘people could walk the streets at night’ was the warm up to ‘we can’t continue like this’ speech – he had heard it before. For the last few days he had expected her to make the final decision, but each night she was there, a meal waiting for him, not that he always wanted it, but keeping the peace was more important than the alternative.
‘I thought we could have a glass of wine,’ Jenny said as Isaac closed the door to the flat. She was wearing a dress; her face was made up. ‘It’s the only time we can talk, with you being so busy.’
There was no suitcase in the hall, no sad face.
‘I can’t change you, not that I want to,’ Jenny said. She came over and kissed him, flung her arms around his neck. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’
‘The same for me,’ Isaac said.
The meal remained untouched, the wine as well. It was the first time since that night when she had given him the cold shoulder that they made love.
***
No one was looking their best for the 6 a.m. meeting. Isaac arrived twenty minutes late, a smile on his face. Wendy wanted to comment but did not. Isaac had been able to get some rest, she and Larry had not, apart from an hour on a chair in the office. Bridget had brought in fresh clothes for her.
Larry was still wearing his clothes from the day before; he was not looking so good. Constables Taylor and Mortimer were still in the office, both alert and cheerful.
The stamina of youth, Wendy thought. She remembered when she had stayed up all night partying as a teen, and then gone out as a constable on the beat, but now she needed eight hours sleep a night to feel her best, and she had only received a fraction of that over the last few days.
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