“Hello, Mrs. Patel,” Dunne said.
Manisha remained mute and avoided his eye contact.
“Okay, Mrs. Patel.” Dunne started the recording, and the light flashed on. “Detective McDonald and I are interviewing you because, as mentioned, yesterday, new evidence came to light regarding your husband’s murder.”
“Yes, I understand,” Manisha muttered.
“Mrs. Patel, do you still have access to any of your husband’s properties?”
“Yes.”
“Which ones?”
“Just the empty property on St. Clair Road, so I could clear out a few things I wanted to keep before Chelsea does whatever she plans to do with the house.”
“Is that the only property?”
Manisha paused, then bravely moved her stare from the table. She looked at Dunne, then McDonald. “Why? What’s this about?”
“Please just answer the question, is this the only property?” Dunne reconfirmed.
“Yes, well, no. I have access to all of them. I have a bunch of keys somewhere in the house. But that’s the only one I’ve been to since Tony died. I can’t stand to go in any of them, plus I have no business to now, do I. They belong t-to that gold digger.”
Manisha paused, and grinded her teeth together. Her face moulded into a look of disgust. She felt Dunne and McDonald watching her every move.
Stop it, she cursed herself again, then fixed her expression into a more neutral one.
“I went over there yesterday as planned, to St. Clair Road,” Manisha continued after a beat. “I cleared the house of what I needed, then put the keys in the post to Chelsea, I can’t face that woman.”
“Why is that?” McDonald asked.
“Well, look at what’s she done. She stole mine and my children’s inheritance. She had an affair with my husband.”
“Around what time did you go to the property?”
“Late afternoon, just before I was due to meet with you. I got home around four-ish.”
“When was the last time you saw Chelsea?”
“Month’s ago, like I said, we’re not exactly best friends.”
“Okay, point taken,” Dunne said.
Manisha felt his gaze on her again. She had watched enough CSI and crime shows on television, so she knew he was studying her body language, as well as each frown line that formed on her face at the mention of Chelsea’s name.
I must be more mindful of my reactions toward Chelsea, she thought. Something’s come up. They know more than they are saying.
She tried to stay one step ahead and watch how much information she gave away—content that might land her in deeper shit than she was already in, but for God knows what?
How much do they know? She pondered.
“So, you cleared out the house, returned home. How did you spend the rest of the evening after we left. And what about today?” Dunne asked.
“What is this all about, Detective?” Manisha huffed. “I was home all day today, I was due to have lunch with a friend, but decided to cancel I felt unwell. I was home, like always. The same yesterday evening. Life isn’t exactly a bed of roses for me and my family right now.”
“You never went out?”
“No, I never.”
“Chelsea was found dead yesterday.” Dunne paused and leaned forward.
Manisha fought the urge to celebrate. She didn’t want to react to this news in an incriminating way.
“What?” Her hand shot up to cover her mouth, and her eyes widened. “Dead?”
Bingo, there it is, she mused.
Manisha high fived herself internally. Now, with the news of Chelsea’s death, she knew exactly why she had been called in for questioning—to confirm the possibility of her involvement in the gold digger’s demise. It was nothing to do with guilt over Tony’s death. She took a deep cleansing breath, then held her head up confidently.
“Yes, and you say you were home all day. Did you have contact with anyone?”
Manisha took full advantage of emphasising exactly where she was yesterday, to remove any suspicions over her involvement. “After you left, my son stayed with me. That’s the only person I had contact with. He was with me, I promise. Ask him. I was with him.”
“What time did he arrive?”
Manisha paused and looked around the stuffy interview room. “Around eight-ish, I guess. We had dinner, and he stayed with me. I didn’t feel well, so I went to bed early. He stayed up watching television in the living room. This morning, he went to work, then checked in on me again today.”
Dunne nodded towards McDonald.
“Okay, that’s all for now. No further questions.” McDonald cut the recording.
Manisha sensed Dunne’s frustration.
“I’m free to go, yes?” Manisha asked.
Dunne nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry to hear about Chelsea, but I have no idea what happened to her. She upset me, we’re not the best of friends, but I’d never want her dead. Just locked away. I’m convinced my husband is dead because of her.”
Manisha rose from her chair and gathered her emotions, mindful to keep her expression neutral and un-readable. She was pissed on the inside but had to keep up the show of the upset and distraught widow.
Dunne ignored her statement and rose to his feet.
Not wanting to say more than she needed, she remained silent and made her way toward the door.
“We’ll call if anything else comes up.” McDonald opened the door, escorted her out into the hall, and then released her to the care of the waiting officer.
26
Off The Hook
Sandip
Sandip shut off the engine of the car and stepped out. He slammed the door shut behind him, turned, and then pressed the button on the key.
The fog lights flashed, and an audible click confirmed the vehicle had locked behind him. He raised the hood of his jacket, to shield himself for the relentless rain, then made his way to the entrance of the police station, lit with bright lights.
A gust of wind whipped around him during the short walk. He shivered, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and then took the steps two at a time. On the top step, he swung open the door and entered.
Stepping over the threshold, a few
