34
They put me in a holding cell downstairs. Not because of what was in my desk, but because I kicked the shit out of Sergeant Dutton.
I'd sprinted to his office, flung open the door and laid into him. He couldn't run away. There wasn't enough room. I pinned him to the wall and flung punch after punch at his fucking moustache.
They'd taken me down here to calm down.
I'd had some time to think. I don't how long because they took my watch. Felt like a couple of hours since the door closed. I thought at least Erica would have come down to see me, but no, nobody came. It was just me and a shitty toilet and a bed.
I sat on the thin rectangle of foam in its blue, wipe-clean plastic cover and rubbed my bruised knuckles. I tried to figure out why Dutton had framed me. All this because he blamed me for his wife leaving him?
I looked up when I heard a key in the lock. After a second or two, the door opened.
'Erica,' I said. 'Get me out of here.'
'How could you do this?' She stepped right up to me. 'Holly's gutted. And your kids, how do you think it's going to be for them now?'
I didn't believe I was hearing this. 'Erica, what the hell are you talking about?' I put my hand on her shoulder.
'Get the fuck off me!' She raised her fist.
'What's wrong?' I put my hands in the air as if she was holding a gun. 'It's Dutton. He set me up.'
'I always thought you were a piece of shit, you know that?'
'Listen to me,' I said.
'Fuck you.' She turned around, slammed the door shut behind her.
I walked over to the door and leaned my head against it. I stayed there for quite a while.
35
I was back on the bed, probably half an hour later, when I heard footsteps in the corridor outside. The key scraped in the lock again and my uncle stepped into the cell.
'Thank Christ,' I said.
'You sure you don't want to see a Police Federation representative?' he asked.
'For beating up Dutton? Everybody knows he asked for it.'
'Come with me,' he said.
I didn't need to be asked twice.
36
Interview room 2. I knew it well. But I'd never sat on this side of the desk before. The room looked different when you were facing the door.
They'd left me there with a uniform standing guard, under orders not to speak to me. That was fine. I didn't feel much like talking.
My uncle walked in carrying a briefcase. A grey briefcase.
'Recognise this?' He dumped it on the desk.
I checked to make sure and, yes, the name of Mrs Wilson's bank was there in gold letters on the front. 'Where did you find it?' I said. 'Was the money — ?'
'I asked you if you recognise this!' he shouted.
What the hell had got into him? 'Yes,' I said. 'I do.'
The door opened and Erica came in. She was carrying a large evidence bag filled with cash. Bundles of it. As she got closer, I saw that the notes were fifties, and they were all banded into bricks.
'Jesus,' I said. 'You did find it! Is it all there?'
'There's 120 grand.' He took the bag from Erica. Set it on top of the briefcase. 'With the five we found in your desk, that's exactly half of Mrs Wilson's missing money. Where's the rest?'
'How would I know?' I asked.
'There's no point carrying on this game any longer, Collins,' Erica said, and folded her arms.
'Look, for the tenth time.' I folded my arms too. 'Dutton's the man you want. He set me up.'
'I'll grant you,' my uncle said, 'he might have been able to put that funny finger and those magazines in your desk. He might have put a stray five grand in your desk too. But do you think Dutton's the kind of guy who'd stick 120 grand in the boot of your wife's car?'
The words struck my kneecaps like hammers. I lowered my head, placed my hands on the desk.
'Holly found it and called me.' Erica leaned over and I felt her breath on my ear. 'You make me puke,' she said.
I stared at the bag of cash. 'I have no idea how the money ended up in Holly's car.' My mouth was dry. I licked my lips but it didn't help. 'Dutton must have put it there.'
'Here's the thing,' my uncle said. 'DS Dutton was in court yesterday, giving evidence. He didn't leave until three o'clock. The money was gone by then. He couldn't have lifted it. Would have been fucking impossible.'
'It wasn't me.' I wanted to stand up but I didn't think I'd be able to. 'If I'd stolen the money, I'd have put it somewhere safe.'
'Where?' my uncle asked. 'We're still missing half of it. Tell us where it is. If we don't recover all the money, you're well fucked, sunshine.'
I waited a while.
'Well?'
'Better get me that Police Federation representative,' I said.
37
Back in the holding cell, just me and the mustard-coloured walls.
I was a detective. I could work this out.
I'd been set up, I just needed to prove that I was innocent.
Easiest way to do that was with an alibi.
The finger. Where was I when the finger was posted through Mrs Wilson's letterbox? Holly had gone to bed and the kids were out…
I'd gone for a drive.
Okay, that was no help.
The ransom money. I couldn't have picked up the money because… shit, I was asleep in my car.
God's sake. I couldn't prove a thing. I had to admit, if I was investigating this case, I'd look pretty guilty.
I needed to find out who had set me up. Whoever it was had access to the CID office. Which meant that one of those bastards I worked with had framed me.
All I knew for certain was that it wasn't Dutton.
There wasn't much to go on, but I did have a number of suspects.
I put a list together in my head. Everyone I could think of. And I started going through them, one by one.
