***
Christine Mason had been hauled into Challis Street. Amelia had confirmed that she had been in Pembridge Mews, which meant that she, like others, had been economical with the truth.
It was four in the afternoon, and the woman was fretting, having been confined to the police station for two hours and thirty-five minutes already.
Isaac sat beside Wendy; Christine Mason beside Gwen Hislop. The four were in the interview room. Four bottles of water were on the table that separated the police officers from the sisters.
Isaac went through the formalities, informing Christine of her rights, the procedure to be followed, the usual. He could say it all verbatim, and Gwen Hislop knew it equally well.
Christine Mason sat calmly, although she was picking at her fingernails, and her lipstick had been applied with a nervous hand sometime before. Gwen Hislop, whom Isaac admired, for her professionalism and the fact that she was representing her sister, someone who, by her own admission, she did not like very much.
‘Mrs Mason, you were seen outside Barry Montgomery’s sister’s house. You know him as Colin Young.’
‘I hope we’re not going over old ground here, Chief Inspector,’ Gwen Hislop said. ‘My client’s had a difficult few days, and if this is another attempt to draw more information from her, then I will regard this as more than the diligent carrying out of your police duties.’
Isaac did not respond, aware that the woman was trying to throw him off track.
‘Christine, are you denying that you were in Pembridge Mews one day before Colin Young’s death?’
‘I went to find him in Hyde Park, you know that.’
‘We know this well enough, but we never knew about Pembridge Mews. Why?’
‘Why what?’ Gwen Hislop asked. ‘You’re beating around the bush on this. My client has given a full account of her actions, explained where and when she was, who she was sleeping with.’
‘We can prove that Christine was in Pembridge Mews on the same day that she was in Hyde Park,’ Isaac said. ‘We can understand her knowing about the man’s jogging habit, and where he liked to run and the time. That’s one issue we’ll accept, although one day before he died is suspicious. However, we didn’t know about Pembridge Mews, and if your client knew that address, then she knew his real name, that of his sister as well. All in all, damning evidence.’
‘Okay, I knew,’ Christine blurted out. Her sister looked at her with a scowl.
Gwen Hislop realised that she was tasked with defending the indefensible. ‘Five-minute break,’ she said.
Isaac and Wendy left the room, meeting Larry outside. The three each took a coffee from the machine in the hallway. It tasted awful, but for once it didn’t matter. Christine Mason was in the hot seat, and the evidence against her was mounting.
The five minutes stretched to ten; two coffees from a café across the road were delivered to the two women in the interview room.
None of the officers sat down, and Chief Superintendent Goddard had joined them, bringing a coffee with him. ‘I’m not drinking that,’ he said, looking over at the machine. ‘A confession?’
‘Not yet. It’s still circumstantial. Just because she’s been at two of the key sites, doesn’t give us a cast-iron case. It’s her word against ours, and her lawyer’s no fool. No doubt she’s berating her for admitting that she was in Pembridge Mews,’ Isaac said.
‘The witness, solid?’
‘Amelia Bentham has been careful not to say too much. If a defence lawyer for Christine Mason got to know that she’s been holding back vital information, then she’d be soon discredited.’
‘Best of luck,’ Goddard said as he walked away.
‘He’s going easy on us, none of the normal rallying of the troops speech,’ Larry said.
‘He knows it’s a matter of hours before we wrap up this case.’
‘But we’re not proving this, only pressuring others to come clean.’
‘Amelia, could she have killed the man?’ Isaac asked Wendy.
‘She was overseas at the time,’ Wendy replied.
‘Proven?’
‘It has been now.’
‘Then it’s not her. Is this it, the end of the investigation?’ Isaac asked. ‘Christine Mason admits her guilt if we pressure her?’
‘I’m not convinced,’ Wendy said. ‘Christine Mason’s a pawn, not one of the major pieces, certainly not a bishop or a rook, definitely not a queen. Things happen to her due to her submissive nature. I don’t believe she could maintain the rage long enough to harm anyone.’
A uniform summoned Isaac and Wendy back to the interview room. It was clear that the two sisters were not comfortable with each other, the chairs they had been sitting on marginally further apart from their previous positions.
Isaac recommenced the interview.
‘My client has a statement,’ Gwen Hislop said. Christine Mason shifted uneasily on her seat; she did not look over at her sister.
‘I admit that I was in Hyde Park,’ Christine Mason commenced, ‘and that my purpose was to confront Colin Young, who I believed was fond of me. Naivety may be what others will say, but to me the love that we shared was real. And even though I had not seen him for some time, I accepted that was the nature of his business. When I saw him in that taxi with a woman, I was alarmed. Not necessarily because he was with her, although I could see that they were happy and laughing, and she was attractive, not showing her age as I am.’
It was clear to Isaac that Christine had drafted the statement, her sister only checking it for incriminating words or descriptions of actions that could damn the woman. It was a clever document, though, in that it showed Christine to be a woman with neuroses, unable to separate fact from fiction. If she did claim to be the murderer, or she was charged with murder, then evaluation of her
