small room. A strip light provided a harsh white light which bounced off the aluminium surface of a toilet wedged in a corner. Everything was cold and functional. He was in a prison cell. He got up to use the toilet.
‘Where are you Mr Billingsgate?’
‘I’m using the toilet.’
‘Let me see your hand. Wave it in front of the door, please. ’Barrie did as he was told, concentrating on pointing his ‘old boy’ in the right direction.
‘When you’ve finished, sit on the bed.’ He did as directed; but what was he doing in here? The last thing he could remember was the dinner party – giving Natasha a good seeing to – and then? It was all a bit confused. He had a strange dream where he was in Natasha’s body, a dream which seemed to go on and on, until the last thing he could remember was…
‘Stand-up please Mr Billingsgate.’
He looked towards the door. A face was peering at him through a small opening. He stood up.
‘Now, turn away from the door and put your hands behind your back.
He turned, heard the door open, then felt handcuffs clamping around his wrists..
‘This way Mr Billingsgate, you’re going back to the interrogation room.’ He turned to find a middle aged, rather plump police sergeant, holding the cell door open.
He had no memory of ever having been in the interview room, but the young guy, who announced himself as Detective Sergeant Kimberley, seemed to know him. He seemed quite friendly.
‘We have your statement here Mr Billingsgate, if you would read it through and sign, then we can get things moving.’
‘What things?’ Barrie was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
‘A hearing; we read you your rights when you came in. You didn’t want a solicitor, but you’ll need one for the hearing.’
Barrie started to read the statement. ‘I can’t sign this! It’s admitting that I murdered someone!’
‘That’s what you told us Mr Billingsgate, and I might add, without any prompting from me.` Detective Sergeant Kimberley leant forward, all pretence of friendship gone, ‘Now, I’m busy, so don’t mess me about! Sign the statement and let’s move on!’
Barrie felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to prickle. A sure sign that he was about to lose his temper. He would swat this little nerd away with a single swat on the rugby field, but he wasn’t on a rugby field, he was in a police station where this little nerd held sway, or so it seemed. He looked up at the tubby sergeant, standing behind him. Barrie had the feeling he didn’t care much for his young colleague, but even so, there was no support for him there. He took a deep breath and controlled his anger.
‘Look, I don’t know what I’m doing in here. I don’t remember making a statement and I’ve definitely not killed anyone. Not by strangulation or any other means, and, if I had, I still wouldn’t be able to sign, not with my hands behind my back.’
Kimberley gave him the steely look he practised in front of the mirror to convince any criminal that all hope had gone. ‘Don’t get cheeky with me. Just read the statement. Say you agree with it and we’ll take the cuffs off.’ Barrie glared back at him. The plump sergeant coughed and took a nervous step backwards, not wanting to be in the firing line if this big, fit looking bloke should cut loose. He was immensely relieved when the door crashed opened.
‘What’s going on Kimberley?’ Detective Inspector Cardhew strode into the room and without ceremony, slumped down in the chair next to Barrie. ‘Why is there no one sitting in this chair? Where’s his legal representation?’
Kimberley gave a petulant sigh and addressed the recording machine. ‘Detective Inspector Cardhew has entered the room.’ Then he spoke slowly, as if addressing a backward child. ‘He was offered legal representation, but insisted on an interview. During the interview he confessed to the murder of one Lucinda Lovebrace of Laburnham Court, Hamsworth.’
‘The Penthouse, Laburnham Court, to be precise Kimberley. Do you have a, signed confession?’
Kimberley sighed again. ‘The prisoner is reading his statement, prior to signing. That’s why I had him brought back in here.’
‘Sir – you address me as sir. You have a habit of forgetting that – and that you work for me Kimberley. Now, you present me with the facts and I decide how we proceed.’
‘The Chief Superintendent has instructed me to move things along – sir.’
‘Oh, he has, has he? And what does he know about this case?’
Kimberley lost some of his poise. ‘Well, not this case. I mean – in general. In general, he wants faster clear-up rates.’
‘Don’t we all Kimberley – but not at the expense of truth and justice. Have you visited the scene of the crime?’
Kimberley looked uncomfortable. ‘There didn’t seem much point. Uniform confirmed the death and I had a suspect, guilty by his own admission.’
Cardhew turned to the man he was sitting next to. ‘Is that so Mr Billingsgate?’
Barrie looked at the detective inspector. He was quite a bit older than the sergeant and seemed more interested in getting to the truth, but, were they playing the good cop, bad cop routine? He thought carefully before answering and when he did it was in a quiet but emphatic way.
‘I haven’t read all of it yet, but, I can tell you, I have not murdered anyone.’
Kimberley couldn’t help but intervene. ‘For God’s sake man, we’ve got your confession on tape. This is the transcript.’ Flushed with anger, he tapped repeatedly on the document.
‘So, what time did Mr Billingsgate say he strangled this woman?’ Cardhew enquired quietly.
Kimberley pulled the document across the table, scanned it for the relevant paragraph and read it out loud. ‘I arrived at the Penthouse at 8pm; she was dead when I left. I’m not sure of the exact time because I was in a panic. It must have been sometime just after 9pm. I then went to…’
Kimberley was interrupted by a knock on the door. DC Leadbetter poked her head in. ‘Sorry to interrupt sir, could you spare a minute?’
Kimberley twisted round and glared at her. ‘Can’t you see we’re busy – Leadbetter!’
Cardhew leant across the table and spoke quietly to him. ‘No, I’m sir, you are a sergeant.’ He directed his voice towards the recorder. ‘Detective Inspector Cardhew is leaving the room. Interview terminated.’ He switched off the recorder and looked directly at Kimberley. ‘Have you actually charged Mr Billingsgate?’
Kimberley shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘Well, no, I was waiting for him to sign his statement.’
‘Good, at least you’ve saved us from looking like complete incompetents. Release Mr Billingsgate on Police Bail, we‘ll see him again on Monday morning.’ Not waiting for an answer he walked out of into the corridor where DC Leadbetter was waiting.
‘Okay Jennie, what’s so important it can’t wait?’
‘I found Mrs Bunford at home. She seemed genuinely shocked and upset to hear about the death. Gave me a telephone number for the victim’s sister, also told me that only yesterday she signed papers which made her an equal partner in all the victim’s business interests.
Cardhew gave the news a few seconds consideration. ‘Thanks Jennie, anything else? ‘
‘Yes, the reason I interrupted the interview. Mrs Billingsgate is here. Claims she murdered Lucinda Lovebrace and that her husband is innocent.’
The post van screeched to a halt with inches to spare. Dudley Wink grabbed the bundle of letters for Laburnham Court and walked past the police car which had blocked his normal route to the entrance. Charlie came out to meet him, he looked pale and drawn. Looking past him, Dudley could see a policeman standing by the penthouse lift.
‘What’s going on Charlie?’
‘There’s been an accident.’ Charlie took the bundle of letters, looked down and made a show of flipping through them as he muttered, ‘If I was you, I’d steer clear of the penthouse for a while.’ He looked up again. ‘Thanks Dudley, see you on Monday, have a good weekend.’ He turned abruptly and walked away. Dudley took the hint and hurried back to the van.
As he continued along Laburnham Grove, making the last of his deliveries, Dudley Wink came to the conclusion that one of Nymhpie’s clients must have died on the job. He was looking forward to an afternoon editing some
