* * *
“Kate… Hi babe… I’ve found out something, well my Inspector has. Look, are you sitting down? This isn’t sounding good. He’s being held in the cells at Harrogate police station. She was able to speak with the custody sergeant, it sounds like they have a strong case against him… I know, listen. It seems he attacked the girl during the day and then slipped away really early. It just looks suspicious. Well, it does to them… Look, I’m going to take some leave. No, no… It’s okay. I’m going to come up, you need someone with you. Sure… Love you too…”
I sighed. “What the hell have you done Adam?” I spoke to the empty room.
“How are you doing?” Adele stepped into the office.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m letting you down…”
“Shush… Amanda, you deserve a break. You haven’t had a day off in months and family comes first. Look, I can’t give you much advice but be ready.”
“Ready?”
“If what I was told is true, it sounds like they have a watertight case against him, or at least that is what they think. You had better be ready for your brother to be going away for a long time. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to be realistic. Now, wipe your eyes. Be strong and go and help his wife.”
“Thank you…”
III
Accused
“How to cope with loss. - Putting your beloved horse to sleep is the toughest decision horse owners have to make. Coping with the loss of your companion can lead to stress and depression. We look into how you can move on from the loss.”
Horse & Rider
14
Realisation
“Mrs Bishop?”
I looked up, the office door had opened quietly, I stood up and stepped inside. His office was small, lined with bookshelves which were packed with books most stacked in a somewhat haphazard way, his desk was piled with papers. I looked at him, he was in his sixties, somewhat overweight with grey hair and a rash of dandruff on the shoulders of his pinstripe suit. He gestured to a chair on the opposite side of his desk and so I sat down.
“Thank you for coming in, as I said on the telephone, I’m not sure how much help I can be to you. As you well know, I am a country solicitor, the most complex cases I deal with are property matters, farm purchases, maybe an unfortunate divorce, but murder? Really not my game, I’m sorry to say.”
“I just don’t know where to start, what to do? I’ve not even been able to speak to Adam and no one in the police will tell me anything other than he is in custody. I’m at my wit’s end…”
“Quite… Oh my goodness, this is a difficult situation for you to be in. Now, your husband… Adam? Yes, he would be under investigation by the police and will be charged and detained awaiting the first trial at a magistrate’s court if the crown prosecution service feels there is a strong enough case against him. Now, if what you tell me is true, it sounds as if the police feel they do have a strong case so we must presume he will be charged. If that is the case, it is highly likely, in the circumstances he will not be allowed bail. Murder is, well, quite obviously a very serious matter. That means he will be held until that court date. Now, there is a code of practice and your husband should have been offered free legal advice, but I can give you the name of a colleague in York who would be able to help him and you. I’m sorry I can’t bring you any better news.”
* * *
“Mr Bishop?”
I looked up. The cell door had opened and a man in a suit was standing beside one of the police officers.
“I’m the duty solicitor. I’m here to give you legal advice. Would you like to step this way please?”
I’d been left in the cells for what had seemed like hours. I’d been offered legal advice earlier but didn’t think I would need it, this was stupid, there was no way in which anyone could think I would hurt anyone and certainly no way in which I could be accused of murder, but here I was. After the hours of interviews, it was clear to me that the police felt that I had murdered Olivia so I had asked to see a solicitor.
The hours in the tiny room, with the officers asking again and again, what had I done, why had I done this? Where had I been? What had I thought of Olivia? The case, in their eyes, was clear. Olivia had been killed sometime during the night, a time when I was alone in the caravan with no witnesses. I’d left early in the morning and, naturally, they found this suspicious, but I’d been tired and couldn’t face a two-hour drive after the day I’d just been through, that and a couple of glasses of wine…
Oh God, that day… They had shown me the CCTV footage from the arena, me riding up to Olivia, grabbing her riding crop and striking her hard. Her shock was obvious. Even in the silent images, you could see her reaction. They didn’t rewind further to show what she had done; it was all seemingly unprovoked.
And then there were their two trump cards. The first was the images of me, in the middle of the night walking across the yard to the tool shed. I’d watched the timestamped CCTV footage in shock and surprise, there I was, wearing
