“Okay, thank you, John. So, put me out of my misery. Do the prints on the murder weapon match the person whose DNA we have?”
“Well, as you know Kelly, we take everyone’s dabs to rule them out.”
“For fuck’s sake John, I know how basic policing works. I just don’t know how we have fucked up so badly! Please tell me, do the prints match the DNA?”
“Yes… We have a match and just need to find the real murderer. The prints and the DNA on the victim, the murder weapon and the broken wine bottle we presume topped Miss Wessington all match one person. A woman called Sally Benson.”
“Oh, fuck! The groom! Well, it was nice knowing you, John. If I’m not sacked, I am going to spend the rest of my life in a bog-standard response car dealing with littering offences and parking tickets.”
“Sorry Kelly…” A wicked grin crossed his face.
“Not as fucking sorry as I am, you bastard!”
* * *
“Hurry up!”
“Kate… Shut up! I’m doing my best”
I yanked at the twine and it finally slipped free. Kate freed her arm and started to untie the other bindings. It seemed like an age, but her arms were eventually free and she started to untie her legs. I glanced at the clock. Christ! Had that much time passed, or had Sally lied about the amount of time she had left us with. There was a loud click and the smell of petrol fumes started to fill the room.
“It’s switched on…”
“I realise that Hilary…”
“Kate, Hurry up!”
Kate wrenched her leg, desperate to free herself from the bindings. I looked across and saw wisps of smoke rising from the towel and then a sudden ball of flame burst across the heater. Kate screamed, wrenching her leg free, but, by then it was too late.
* * *
“Sir…” I looked across at the Chief Constable, he had his head in his hands and was groaning.
“No. Wait a moment, please. Just let me understand this. You went and charged a man with murder based on a necklace that had been found and the fact that you thought that a jumper being worn by someone on a dark CCTV image matched one which your presumed suspect owned, even though the physical description of the individual in the images didn’t match. And, to add to this, months after you assured me that you had this case watertight. You have suddenly found a DNA match for someone completely different and, that DNA matches a potential weapon in a second case. So, we have an innocent man in prison and the murderer is roaming free at this very moment. Is that right?”
“If you put it that way. Yes sir…”
He gave a long sigh. “You know what I want you to say, don’t you?”
“I resign?”
“No Kelly. That would be too good for you right now. No, I want you to explain to me how there has been such a breakdown of policing. What we do for the innocent man who is currently behind bars charged with a murder he clearly didn’t commit and what you are doing to catch the actual murderer?”
“I’m sorry sir… We are looking to find the real suspect.”
“I’m sure you are Kelly. Look, I’m guessing I’ll have to say sorry to Mr Bishop when he comes out of prison, and his wife. This could be embarrassing and bloody costly for the Force.”
“Oh, his wife’s gone missing, sir.” I stuttered.
“What? Oh, Christ! When you say missing, are we speaking the same language? Think hard about what you do next as these will be the most important decisions of your policing career. I want you to find the person who did this. I’ll have to look at recovering the situation you’ve left me in. This is not over Kelly!”
The Chief Constable ushered me from the room, the door was slammed in my face, I had expected no less of a reaction. I grabbed my phone and dialled.
“S.P. Anderson.”
“Dan, it’s Kelly from Yorkshire.”
“Kelly, how can I help you?”
“Dan… Kate Bishop, you said she was in Devon, you said she had gone missing? Did you say who she had gone to try and find?”
“Yes, she was trying to find Hilary Wessington’s groom, a girl called Sally Benson. She thought that she may have had some information…”
The phone slipped from my fingers as a wave of nausea hit me.
* * *
“Bishop…”
I looked up. It was late at night, I’d been in a fitful sleep when the cell door had been unlocked, the guard had stepped in and ushered me out, along the block into an interview room. Across the table was the man who had previously announced he was my barrister and who had told me I had no chance for freedom. He looked tired, clearly, he had also been dragged out of bed.
“Have you come to tell me how long I will be staying in prison? Because if you are, please tell me in the morning and let us both sleep.”
“Well, funny you should say that. I am going to tell you how long you will be in prison.” He smiled. “Trust me, Mr Bishop, you won’t want to wait until the morning to hear this. Look, I’ll get to the point. This is highly unusual, however, Mr Bishop, you’re free to go.”
“What?”
Had I heard him correctly? Was this some dream cum nightmare where I would wake, still in my cell with a lifetime imprisoned ahead of me. I looked up, my barrister was still speaking.
“The police have admitted they have made some pretty basic mistakes in the case. I won’t go into all the details right now. But, let’s just say they are satisfied you didn’t commit the murder.”
“I told you that…”
“Well,
