‘Who is this child?’
‘If you know, you are at risk.’
‘What about the father?’
‘He doesn’t want it known who the child is.’
‘You’ve spoken to him?’
‘I tried, but he hung the phone up on me.’
Isaac could see it was going to be a long day. He still had Christy Nichols to deal with, as well as Jess, who was anxious to see him.
The search for Linda Harris had been abandoned. Angus MacTavish had contacted him with the news that she had been assigned overseas. Isaac accepted the truth. There still remained the issue as to who had killed Richard Williams, the assumption that Linda Harris had come in the front door, while the assassin had gone out the back. If it had not been Linda, surely they would have reported the dead body rather than leave it to Farhan and Wendy to find.
Linda Harris, now clearly identified as MI5, would not have wanted to report the murder. That may well have warranted a closer inspection into her background.
Farhan phoned for some food to be delivered from a restaurant down the road. It was only pizzas – Marjorie Frobisher complained.
The interview resumed at two in the afternoon. Farhan asked the first question. ‘Does your husband know about the child?’
‘No. I never told him.’
‘Is he safe?’ Isaac asked.
‘Those who want to silence me will not harm him.’
‘Are you convinced that your life is in danger?’
‘They killed Richard, didn’t they?’
‘Why would they do that? Why not you?’
‘You couldn’t find me, neither could they.’
‘That’s true, but now you’re visible.’
‘I couldn’t disappear forever. I’d rather be dead than continue to live as a hermit.’
‘Were you?’
‘Was I what?’
‘Living as a hermit.’
‘Almost. Before I went to Malvern, a remote place up north.’
‘Yours.’
‘It belonged to my father. A fishing shack, nothing else. Nobody knew about it, not even Richard Williams.’
‘Why?’
‘His protection, not that it did him much good. He still ended up dead.’
‘You’re safe here,’ Isaac said.
The woman made a disparaging gesture, shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m not safe here. If they want me dead, they’ll find a way.’
‘The police are protecting you now.’
‘And the police could be called away, told to turn a blind eye.’
‘Why would we do that?’ Isaac asked.
‘National security.’
‘Who is this child? I need to know.’
‘Ask Angus MacTavish. He’ll tell you.’
The statement came as a surprise. MacTavish had always been suspect, but he was now directly implicated. Isaac needed to contact his boss.
Isaac wrapped up the interview, stating that he needed to take advice. She had not been willing to make any more comments, after revealing MacTavish as a key person.
‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ Isaac said as he put on his coat.
‘If I’m still here.’
‘Farhan will stay.’
It had been the night that Farhan had intended to meet up with Aisha. He had no alternative, but to comply. He hoped Aisha would understand.
***
Isaac’s initial reaction to Marjorie Frobisher’s comment was to ask to meet his boss, but he realised this was not the most important issue.
One murder investigation had to be wrapped up. Eileen Kerr, Christy Nichol’s legal representative, was in the building and acting on advice from her client, she would be the sole person with the woman at the interview.
Farhan would normally have been with Isaac in the interview room, but he was out protecting Marjorie Frobisher. Wendy was delegated in his place.
Their boss chose to observe through a one-way window into the interview room – a room that was pleasant enough under normal circumstances, dreary under any other. The accused was led in, a policewoman accompanying her. Wendy felt sorry for her but did not let it show.
Christy Nichols was very pale, her head bent, avoiding eye contact. Her legal representative, Eileen Kerr, touched her on the arm in a gesture of reassurance and friendship.
‘Could you please state your name.’ Isaac had started the recording, both video and audio.
‘Christy Marigold Nichols.’
‘You are charged with the murder of Charles Sutherland.’
‘I did not kill him. I hated him, but not enough to kill him.’
‘Charles Sutherland died due to ingesting a lethal dose of arsenic.’
‘I did not give it to him.’
‘But you knew about the effects of arsenic. Is that correct?’
‘Why would I know that?’
Wendy, on a prearranged cue from Isaac, spoke. ‘Your father died of arsenic poisoning.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you know of the effects of arsenic?’ Isaac took over again.
‘He used it for rat killer.’
‘You were questioned at the time of his death?’
‘We all were.’
Wendy spoke again. ‘I visited the village where you lived. I saw a woman at the house.’
‘My mother.’
‘Your relationship with your mother?’
‘There is no relationship.’
‘Why is that?’ Isaac asked. ‘Because of the death of your father?’
‘No.’
‘Then why?’
‘She never protected me from him.’
‘Him?’
‘My father.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He beat us and…’
‘Did he abuse you?’
‘Sometimes. When he was drunk.’
‘And that was often? Isaac asked. Eileen Kerr asked for an adjournment. Isaac refused.
‘This abuse?’ Wendy asked. ‘We need to know.’
‘He used to touch me.’
‘Sexual intercourse?’ Isaac had to ask.
‘No. He wanted to touch me. He wanted me to touch him.’
‘And you did?’
‘If I didn’t, he would beat me.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She let him.’
‘She was there?’
‘No, but she could have told someone, done something.’
‘Why didn’t you report it?’
‘I was scared. If no one believed me, he would have beat me more.’
Wendy started to choke up. She had heard the story before when she had been looking for missing children. How many times, the father abusing the pretty daughter? How many times had the child been returned to the parents, their accusations dismissed? One child
