Written In Blood

19

19

Zack was surprised by the level of relief he felt when the door of the cell swung open; he would not have thought himself susceptible to the psychological impact of being in a cell, especially when he had been there for such a relatively short time.

“Realised you’ve made a mistake and letting me go, are you?” Zack asked from the uncomfortable bed, where he had been mentally writing the next few pages of his novel.

“No, Mr Wild, you’re not being released,” Mitchell said, pleased to be able to disappoint him. “Your solicitor is here. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the interview room so you can talk to her.” It only took a few moments to get there. “Here you are, Mr Wild.” He ushered his suspect into the interview room. “I’ll be back in a quarter of an hour, so we can get this interview started.”

“The interview will start when I say it does, sergeant,” the woman seated at the small table said sharply. “Now, I’d like coffee for myself, and for my client, thank you.”

Mitchell stared at the solicitor, not quite able to believe that he had been dismissed with a drinks order. He was not used to being treated in such a way, nor was he used to being told when he could do his job – it was a few seconds before he recovered from the surprise he had been given. His jaw clenched angrily, he turned and left the room.

“Hello, Izzy,” Zack said the moment the door had been shut. “Thanks for coming.”

“Don’t Izzy me, Zack Wild,” Isobel Faulkner said in a voice that was as sharp as the one she had used on the sergeant. “I was out with Cathy when you called; I had to lie and tell her it was Sophie who needed me because her car had broken down. What have you gotten yourself into? You said on the phone you were being arrested for murder.”

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know you were with Cathy, but I needed a lawyer, and it was either call you or call her – I thought you were more likely to answer the phone,” Zack remarked. “I doubt Cathy would have agreed to help if she had answered the phone. Chances are, she’d have left me to rot.” There was no love lost between him and his ex-wife, and he was all too aware of how happy Cathy would be to leave him in the hands of the police. “Will Sophie back up your story if Cathy asks her?”

“Of course she will, she might be Cathy’s sister, but Sophie will do just about anything for you. I didn’t even have to tell her anything, she agreed to cover for you the moment she heard you need help; you do have to tell her what’s going on when you see her tomorrow, though,” Isobel said. “How about the story then? What’s going on, how have you gone from investigating murders, and writing about them, to being accused of one?”

“The short answer is, because the local sergeant, as you just saw, is an idiot.”

Melissa entered the interview room then. She set down the two mugs of coffee she had brought, along with the packets of sugar, and left again. It was only when she was back out in the passage, with the door closed, that she allowed herself to smile. She could not have picked a better time to arrive with the drinks.

Isobel Faulkner grabbed the nearest of the mugs, took a sip, and then turned her attention back to her friend. “That’s the short version, what’s the long version?” she asked.

“The long version is that this morning, while I was out for a run, I found the body of a murdered girl. A second girl, reported missing this morning, was found this afternoon, also murdered. If the sergeant is to be believed, I’m the last person to see the second girl, Lucy Goulding; she paid me a visit yesterday afternoon.”

“She wasn’t seen after she visited you?”

Zack grimaced. “That’s where things get complicated; my neighbour saw Lucy leave my place after her visit, but she claims I followed Lucy down the road shortly afterwards. Because of that, Sergeant Mitchell believes I’m the last person to have seen Lucy, and therefore responsible for her murder.”

“I take it you didn’t follow the girl down the road.” Isobel was pretty sure she already knew the answer, but needed to hear it from her friend. When Zack shook his head she moved on to the next potential problem she could see. “If you didn’t follow the girl, why does your neighbour think you did?”

“At a guess, I’d say she’s made a mistake; she’s elderly, and doesn’t have perfect eyesight, she probably saw someone who looks like me and simply assumed.”

“Do they have anything else to connect you to the murder?”

“The scratches on my arm,” he said, showing them to her. “Sergeant Mitchell doesn’t believe I got them while working in my garden yesterday afternoon; he’s decided they were made by fingernails, Lucy Goulding’s fingernails.”

Isobel leaned over to look at the scratches. “Is that all they have against you?”

“As far as I know,” Zack said. “If they’ve got anything else, they haven’t told me about it, and I can’t imagine what it might be since I didn’t kill anyone.”

“In that case, I think we should get this interview started,” Isobel decided. “If they’ve got nothing more than what you’ve told me, I should be able to get you out of here in about half an hour, which means I’ll be able to get home by about eleven. A five hour round trip on a Saturday evening, you owe me big time, Zack.”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Zack said, though he was not sure how he was going to do that.

**

ISOBEL’S PREDICTION of a quick release for her client did not prove as accurate as she would have liked.

An hour and a half after the interview began, it still hadn’t finished, and she was far from happy with the way things were going; she had dealt with many difficult police officers over the years, but in her opinion, Sergeant Mitchell took the prize – he had no hard evidence, only three pieces of circumstantial evidence, yet he went over things again and again, worrying at his suspect like a dog with a bone.

Reaching the end of her patience, she slapped her hand down sharply on the table. “That’s it, I’m ending this interview right now; my client and I are leaving,” she said. Getting to her feet, she made to head around the table to the door, with Zack on her heels.

Mitchell was briefly struck dumb and immobile by the solicitor’s abrupt declaration. He recovered quickly, however, and rose so rapidly his chair was thrown backwards. “Your client is not going anywhere, Mrs Walker,” he said, moving to put himself between the door and his suspect. “He’s under arrest for murder, as I’ve already made clear, and will remain in custody until I decide otherwise.”

“No, sergeant, my client is here until one of three things happen,” Isobel responded, without bothering to correct him in the manner of how she should be addressed. She did not advance any further, but showed every indication of being willing to walk right through the sergeant to get out of the room, should it prove necessary. “Either you charge my client with the crimes you believe he has committed, you realise he has committed no crimes and release him, or his twenty-four hours come to an end and you have no choice but to release him. Do you know which one of those three things I think is most likely to happen?”

“I have no idea,” Mitchell said. He did not like the solicitor who was representing his suspect, she was too assured, and far too dismissive of both him and his investigation; she had done her best, at every step of the interview, to keep him from asking his questions, and to keep her client from answering him when he was able to ask a question.

“I think you are going to realise that my client is innocent - you have no evidence; your witness is, by all accounts, an old woman with suspect eyesight, and you cannot even prove that my client ever met the girl whose body he found, prior to her being murdered,” Isobel went on confidently. “If you don’t release Mr Wild immediately, I will have an order for his release, signed by the most senior officer I can lay my hands on, by morning. If you should be stupid enough to charge my client, I will be forced to lodge an official complaint against you over your inept handling of this situation – I would not call it an investigation – and petition the court for an immediate dismissal of any and all charges you file.

“Regardless of that, I will be writing to the chief superintendent for this region to insist that the investigation be placed in the hands of someone competent; you are unqualified and prejudiced, sergeant, and you seem intent on building a case out of coincidence and little else - you certainly don’t have any evidence - to close this investigation as quickly as possible. Now, are you going to get out of our way and release my client or not?” Isobel stared at Mitchell, daring him to do other than what she wanted; she was unsurprised to find that he lacked the courage.