In Cold Blood

by Adam Croft

  Monique replied without looking up. ‘No comment.’

  ‘Right,’ Caroline said, sighing. ‘Now, I don’t know if that’s something you’ve got off the telly or if your solicitor told you to say that, but I’ll give you credit and presume it’s the latter. He may well have led you to believe that because you told me about the affair before you were arrested, it won’t be admissible in court. First of all, that’s not strictly correct. In fact, it would likely count heavily against you in court if you were shown to have retracted evidential statements which we can otherwise prove to be true.’

  ‘Those last four words being the crucial ones,’ the solicitor remarked.

  ‘I don’t think they’ll be an issue,’ Caroline replied, smiling and turning her attention back to Monique. ‘Besides which, if you’re as innocent as you make out, you have nothing to worry about, do you? Holding things back is only going to prolong the situation. So it was “just sex”, was it?’

  Monique looked briefly at her solicitor, and Caroline could see her confidence in him had started to fall. ‘No comment,’ she whispered.

  ‘Okay. In that case, let’s move on to something else. We can circle back round later. When I came back to the offices of Allure Design earlier today, I found you shredding some documents. Can you tell me what they were please?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘That’s fine. We seized the rest of them anyway, plus the ones that had already been shredded. It’s an impressive cross-cut shredder, but you’d be amazed at what our guys can do nowadays, especially if they’ve got an idea what they’re looking for. I imagine that’ll be more invoices, will it? That’s what made up the rest of the pile.’

  Monique chose not to answer.

  ‘The invoices were all made out to a company called DQK Consultancy. Have you heard of them?’

  She glanced at her solicitor again before answering, this time even less convincingly. ‘No comment.’

  ‘The sole director of DQK Consultancy is somebody called Doris Knowles. Does that name ring any bells?’

  Caroline watched as Monique clenched her jaw. She could tell from the body language between her and her solicitor that she’d already disclosed the truth to him. They must have been well aware this was going to come out.

  ‘Doris Knowles is you, isn’t it?’ she asked.

  ‘I hated the name,’ Monique answered, through gritted teeth. ‘It was my grandmother’s name. She died two weeks before I was born. I never even met the woman, and I already got saddled with a dead person’s name. I wouldn’t have minded if it was a nice name, but it’s just so… common.’

  Caroline raised her eyebrows. ‘Well I’m sure your nan’s jumping for joy up there at the way you chose to honour her memory.’

  ‘Like I say, I never met her. There was nothing about my name that particularly appealed.’

  ‘So you changed your name. To the rather… different… Monique Dupont.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you form DQK Consultancy in your old name then?’

  Monique took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. ‘I don’t know. I wanted a bit of distance.’

  ‘And has DQK Consultancy ever functioned as an actual business, or does it exist purely to embezzle funds from Allure Design?’

  The solicitor cleared his throat. ‘Detective Inspector, please take care with your choice of words.’

  Caroline ignored him and looked at Monique. ‘Monique?’

  ‘Martin knew about it,’ she said eventually. ‘I raised invoices from DQK to Allure, then paid them through Allure’s accounts.’

  ‘Okay. Why?’

  Monique shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You tell me. Tax dodge?’

  ‘No. I’ve always paid my taxes in full.’

  ‘So what was it then? Just stealing money for the fun of it?’

  ‘I told you. Martin knew. You can’t accuse me of stealing something from someone who knew about it and let it happen.’

  ‘We’ve only got your word for that, haven’t we? Martin, quite conveniently, happens to be dead. In any case, Sandra Forbes is also a director of Allure Design. Did she know you’d been embezzling funds?’

  ‘Detective Inspector,’ the solicitor grumbled.

  ‘I don’t want to answer that question,’ Monique replied.

  Caroline jotted some notes on the pad in front of her as she spoke. ‘Okay. I’m sure your solicitor will make you aware of this if he hasn’t already, but Martin Forbes having been an accessory to your act of fraud perpetrated against a company co-owned by his unknowing wife doesn’t absolve you of any liability in that regard. Just so we’re clear. But let’s circle back round on this. Your relationship with Martin. Did that begin before or after you started this little scheme?’

  Monique swallowed. ‘After.’

  Caroline and Dexter exchanged a brief glance. ‘I see. And were you as keen on the idea as he was?’ She watched as Monique tried desperately to hide her reaction, lost in the confusion as to what she should be willing to tell them. ‘Did he coerce you into a sexual relationship in exchange for allowing the embezzlement to continue?’

  Monique’s jaw began to tremble as tears filled her eyes. Eventually, she closed them and nodded.

  Caroline looked at Dexter again. They both knew what the implications were. If Martin Forbes had coerced Monique into regularly having sex with him, effectively in exchange for money, it shifted the power dynamic substantially. But it also gave her a prime motive for murder.

  ‘Okay,’ Caroline said, now acutely aware of her duty of care towards Monique. ‘How do you feel? Are you happy to continue or would you like a few minutes?’

  Monique shook her head and sniffed. ‘No. It’s fine. I want this all over with as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Alright. In that case, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but can you tell me where you were between six o’clock yesterday evening and nine o’clock this morning?’

  ‘At my mum’s in Corby, for most of it.’

  ‘Most of it? Can you be a little more specific please?’

  Monique sighed. ‘Okay, well I left work at the usual time and went straight round there. I stayed overnight until I left for work this morning. So no, it’s physically impossible for me to have killed Martin, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘We are going to need to verify that, Monique. I hope you understand.’

  ‘Verify it all you like. I stayed over because my dad’s in hospital. They had a break-in a few years back, and the guys beat my dad to a pulp. It made the papers and everything. He had a bleed on the brain. He’s never been the same since. He gets seizures every now and then. Every few months, perhaps. Each time he does, he has to stay overnight in hospital for observation. Mum called me yesterday afternoon to say it’d happened again, so I stayed over with her. She’s petrified to sleep in the house on her own after what happened. Especially when the whole reason dad’s not there is because of the break-in.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Caroline said, mentally noting that it wouldn’t be difficult to confirm all this from police reports and hospital records.

  ‘And if you need proof,’ Monique said, as if reading Caroline’s mind, ‘that won’t be difficult either. They’ve done the place out like Fort Knox since that day. CCTV cameras, video doorbells, the lot. I was probably on more cameras and screens last night than Richard Osman.’

  Caroline nodded. They’d have to access the footage as quickly as possible to verify her alibi, especially in light of the revelation that Monique had been a victim of sexual coercion. Caroline didn’t like to use the word lightly, but there could be a strong argument for calling it rape by deception or fraud.

  ‘Okay. We’re going to need to check the footage and confirm everything at this end. We’ll pull out all the stops to do that as quickly as we possibly can.’

  ‘Will I have to wait here, or can I go?’

  Caroline pursed her lips. They hadn’t yet got any proof of w
hat Monique was saying, and even if she could prove her whereabouts it didn’t clear her of conspiracy or some level of involvement. ‘We’ll need you to hold on a little longer, if that’s okay.’

  Monique slowly nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah okay. Just… try and be quick. Please. I really want to see my dad.’

  13

  As much as she wanted to push forward, Caroline felt powerless. Officers had been despatched to Monique’s mother’s house in Corby and the security footage had proven that Monique wasn’t their killer, having spent the whole night at her mother’s.

  More than anything, it had given them their first real glimpse into the sort of man Martin Forbes had been, and it hadn’t exactly reduced the field of potential suspects. For now, though, it was a waiting game.

  Caroline had been forced to put the brakes on the planned full forensic analysis of Allure Design’s computer systems and accounts. Now that it would be merely speculative, she simply couldn’t justify the expense on what were already extremely tight policing budgets. In any case, she’d decided to proceed with obtaining a backup of everything from their systems, just in case it was needed further down the line. If nothing else, it would ensure nothing was ‘accidentally’ lost or misplaced.

  It was often the case that investigations relied on third parties cooperating quickly and effortlessly, and delays and roadblocks were, at times, unbearable. With Allure Design’s IT manager, Tom Mackintosh, still being on holiday, there was very little they could do until he returned.

  In the situation where they were pretty certain conclusive evidence was on the company’s computer systems, a court order could allow them to seize the equipment, but that wasn’t the route Caroline wanted to go down. A court order would take time to obtain, and it was likely it wouldn’t arrive much before Tom Mackintosh did. Then there were the concerns that the business needed to keep running. As a limited company, Allure was a separate legal entity to Martin Forbes, and was now under the management of its sole director, Sandra Forbes. Caroline didn’t know how long that would continue, as the impression she got was that Sandra didn’t take much of an interest in the running of the company, but with salaries and livelihoods at stake, they needed to tread carefully.

  In any case, their desire to search the IT systems was more speculative than anything else. Caroline didn’t think for one minute they’d log on and find a stash of death threats or confession letters, but it would at least help them to build up a bigger picture and could potentially develop further leads. She was also keen to further explore the link between Martin and Monique, as well as the possibility that she hadn’t been his only victim.

  With Martin dead, Sandra at home and half the staff already off on holiday, the decision had been made to return tomorrow, with officers in attendance to make sure they obtained an accurate backup of the company’s IT systems.

  By the evening, Caroline’s head was pounding. She’d done well in her convalescence and had made excellent progress, but sitting around doing very little had sapped her energy levels, both mentally and physically. She could see now why it had been recommended she return on reduced duties, but there was no way she was going to admit that to anyone.

  She sat on the sofa as Mark cooked dinner, the smells beginning to waft through the house, making her hungry. One of the worst parts of recovering at home had been the tension that’d developed between them. They’d done their best to keep it from Archie and Josh, but that hadn’t done them any favours in their own relationship. By the time the boys were in bed, Caroline was far too tired to get into any in-depth discussions.

  Try as she might, she still couldn’t come to terms with the way the operation had made her feel. Although she and Mark hadn’t planned to have any more children, the fact that this decision had now been taken away from her was extraordinarily difficult to accept. Mark had predictably reminded her at every opportunity that they’d only ever wanted two children and had both agreed they wouldn’t have any more, and seemed incapable of understanding what the problem was. There were times when she wondered if she was being unreasonable, and if perhaps he was right. But she soon came to realise that feelings can’t be wrong. It was the lack of control over her own body and her own choices that hurt the most, and there would be no coming back from that. It was something she might get used to, and which would probably ease with time, but it would never be reversible or solvable.

  The hormone tablets were supposed to make things easier, but all they’d done was make her feel more unbalanced. She knew it would take time to get used to her new body, and for balance to be achieved. But there were days — like today – when it felt like that was a long way off.

  ‘Right, grub’s up,’ Mark said, poking his head through the doorway into the living room. ‘You want a hand?’

  Caroline sighed. ‘It’s fine. I’m not an invalid.’ She looked at him, immediately regretting her words. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, that’s all. Sorry. I know you’re only trying to help. But really, I can stand up on my own.’

  She followed Mark through into the dining room and sat down. Although she’d felt hungry only moments earlier, now the sight of food make her feel sick. She smiled at Mark and forced a mouthful, chewing it over and over as she tried to summon up the courage to swallow the food.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked a minute or two later.

  Caroline nodded. ‘Mmmhmm.’

  ‘Did I overcook it?’

  ‘No. It’s good.’

  ‘Only you’ve been chewing it for ages.’

  Caroline swallowed. ‘It’s fine. Honestly.’ She looked back down at her plate. Another mouthful seemed far more daunting than it had any right to. There was no way she could eat even a fraction of what was on her plate.

  ‘You don’t have to eat it, you know. I won’t be offended.’

  ‘The food’s fine, Mark. There’s nothing wrong with the food.’

  Mark nodded. ‘Okay. Not hungry?’

  ‘No, I am. I was. I just…’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Well I am worried about it, because now you’re upset with me.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are. You only say you’re not when you are.’

  ‘What the hell? That makes no sense at all.’

  She looked back at the plate of food. ‘And now you’re angry.’

  ‘I’m confused, Caz. I don’t have a clue what’s going on. Have I done something?’

  She tensed her jaw. ‘No, Mark. Not everything stems from you.’

  Mark threw his fork down on the plate. ‘Well there’s no need for that. I’m only trying to help you. Support you. But whatever I do, I seem to get it in the neck.’

  She got the impression that nothing she could say now would make things better. The situation had got too tense, too confused, and even trying to smooth things over would only cause more aggravation.

  ‘It’s probably just the tablets,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long day. I think I’m just going to go to bed.’

  Without waiting for a response, Caroline pushed her chair back, stood up and headed for the stairs.

  14

  Caroline arrived at the hospital the next morning feeling apprehensive. If she was honest with herself and managed to cut through the internal panic, she felt as though she’d beaten the cancer. In many ways, she felt better than she had in a long time, but she still couldn’t shake that horrible nagging doubt at the back of her mind. She’d felt relatively fine in the early stages of the disease. What was to say this wasn’t the same situation all over again?

  Her post-surgery scan had been delayed a little due to a combination of Christmas and chronic underfunding of local health services, but she hadn’t minded too much. In a way, not knowing had provided her with relief. But there was a growing sense that she needed to know. The clarity that would come from a definitive answer would allow her to move on.

  After she was called through, she was asked a few questions about how she’d been after
her surgery. They seemed surprised that she’d been back at work — as did most people — and although she was tempted to tell them to mind their own business, she instead politely pointed out that she felt just fine, and that she hadn’t been taking on anything too taxing. If pushed, she’d happily explain how sitting around at home doing nothing would be a whole lot riskier.

  ‘How are the energy levels doing?’ the nurse asked.

  ‘Fine. I mean, I’m not sure I remember what “normal” is, but I certainly feel a hell of a lot better than I have in the last year or so.’

  ‘Good. Well, the notes seem to indicate the surgery went well from a practical point of view, but what we’re going to do today is an MRI scan. It’s very similar to the CT scan you had pre-diagnosis, insofar as we lay you down and slide you into a weird white tube, but the MRI will give us a more detailed image of what’s going on. It just means that if there are any signs of regrowth — even small ones — we should be able to see them and do something about them. Does that all make sense?’

  Caroline let out a small laugh. ‘To be honest, you can do whatever you like as long as you get rid of it.’

  The nurse gave a friendly smile laced with the slightest touch of I’ve-heard-that-one-a-thousand-times-before-but-I’ll-humour-you-anyway. ‘With a little bit of luck, it should all be gone already, but we’ll soon know.’

  ‘How soon?’ Caroline asked. ‘I don’t know if anyone actually mentioned that to me. Sorry if they did.’

  ‘It depends. You’ll get a letter within the next few days with a date for a follow-up appointment. By that time we should have the results and we’ll be able to talk about the next steps, continued monitoring, all that sort of thing. Shall we get cracking?’

  Caroline looked through the window towards the MRI scanner. It was an odd feeling, knowing that machine would — quite literally — dictate her future. It would either signal the success of the surgery and a new start, or something else entirely. With her heart beating heavily and a soaring sense of trepidation, she stood and followed the nurse.