Soon-to-be Detective Chief Superintendent Goddard could see that it was not over yet, not by a long shot. He needed to talk to his DCI.
He phoned Isaac, who was on his way out to the cottage. He had taken a circuitous route, hopeful that he wasn’t being followed. It would not have been an issue before, but now the press, alerted after the observant reporter had seen the events at the hospital, were speculating as to what was afoot.
‘Isaac, we need to talk.’
‘I’m on my way to meet with Marjorie Frobisher,’ Isaac responded on hands-free.
‘Let me know what she says.’
‘Of course.’
‘We need to consider how to progress.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Is it national security? Do we comply with MacTavish or not?’
‘I thought we had decided to press on,’ Isaac said, a little perturbed at his boss’s changed attitude.
‘We have. We need to know the truth, but the national interest…’
‘National interest? I would have thought that was best served by the truth.’
‘Ordinarily, I would agree.’
‘But now?’
‘Find out what she says first. We’ll discuss the implications afterwards. That’s all I’m saying. I’m not asking you to hold back, just exercise caution.’
Isaac did not enjoy the conversation very much. It sounded as though his boss had gone soft.
***
Isaac found Marjorie Frobisher not in a good mood when he arrived at the cottage. He decided to ignore her complaints. The information she held was what he wanted. If it was as controversial as the events of the past few months indicated, then he was not sure what to do.
He was a policeman who was possibly about to be asked to commit an illegal act; namely, the covering up of two murders, purely because they were professional assassinations. Richard Williams did not concern him as much as Sally Jenkins. He had seen her distraught parents at the funeral, especially her mother. They deserved the truth. He could envisage their reaction to a verdict of murder by an ex-lover. That was what Isaac saw as the most likely wrap up to the case. He couldn’t agree, couldn’t see that he could do much about it.
Christy Nichols still needed to make an official statement, and they couldn’t hold her for much longer. Once finished with Marjorie Frobisher, he intended to conduct the interview with Sutherland’s alleged murderer. The evidence seemed too strong to believe otherwise.
‘Miss Frobisher, are you ready to tell us the truth?’ Isaac asked on his arrival at her hideaway.
‘Yes.’
‘You are aware that your reluctance to come forward has cost the life of several people?’
‘Not Charles Sutherland.’
‘No, that is clear. We believe his death is not related.’
‘But Richard’s is.’
‘Yes, that appears to be the case, as well as Sally Jenkins. We’ve discussed this before.’
‘I’m sorry about Richard. He was a good man, a good friend.’
‘He was more than that, wasn’t he?’
‘We lived together in the past.’
‘And recently?’
‘We looked out for each other. If I had not become so close to Richard, if I had not told him what I’m about to tell you, he would still be alive.’
‘That’s hindsight. We can only deal with the future.’
‘And what will happen to you? You’re a policeman. Will they force you to keep quiet? Cover it up. Allow me to be killed.’
She had hit the nail on the head. How would he react? How would anyone react in the same situation? He had no answer that would suffice.
‘I’m sworn to uphold the law.’ Isaac knew it was a clichéd reply. He was surprised he had uttered it.
Farhan prepared some coffee. It was clear the woman could become emotional. A policewoman stood to one side.
‘When I was younger, I formed a relationship with a man.’
‘How young?’
‘I was sixteen. He was eighteen.’
‘Where did you meet?’
‘At a school dance.’
‘There seems to be nothing wrong in that.’
‘There wasn’t, although it was before the pill and loose morals.’
‘You slept with him?’
‘Up against a wall. I’d hardly call that sleep. It was just too people, children really, screwing. No point pretending it was anything more.’
‘Then what?’ Isaac asked.
‘We used to meet up every few days. Don’t attempt to imagine it was a typical romance. It was sex, whether in the park, or his school dormitory, or the back of a local cinema.’
‘Did you like the man?’
‘Yes. And he liked me, but we were different.’
‘In what way?’
‘I was middle class. He was upper, a member of the aristocracy. I was Mavis Sidebottom, daughter of a successful shopkeeper.’
‘No meeting of each other’s parents?’
‘He wanted to meet mine, but I never introduced him.’
‘Any reason why?’
‘I could see the reality. I was fond of him, as he was of me, but there was no future.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was a long time ago. The class structure was much stronger then. The daughter of a shopkeeper and the son of a Lord would not have been considered a suitable match. That’s for the movies, not real life. Maybe today, but not then.’
‘The romance ended?’
‘There was a complication.’
‘A child?’
‘People just didn’t think about the risk of pregnancy. Assumed it wouldn’t happen to them.’
‘What did the father do?’
‘Married me quickly in Gretna Green, and then told his father, the Lord.’
‘What happened?’
‘Paid my father to hush it up. I spent six months hidden from the world in a convent. Once it was born, it was taken from me.’
‘And what became of the child?’
‘For many years, I never knew.’
‘When did you find out?’
‘One year ago.’
‘Did you contact the child?’
‘No. It was such a long time ago; I didn’t feel any connection.’
‘Is the child the reason these murders have occurred? The reason you are frightened?’
