Death's Privilege (13 page)

Sarah wrote ‘no comment’ in her notebook beneath the time, date and a list of persons present. ‘You have been arrested on suspicion of possession of drugs. We attended your house this morning and executed a drugs warrant. Your house was searched and we recovered an amount of white powder we believe to be cocaine.’ Sarah held up a small bag of white powder. She wouldn’t know what it was until it’d been verified by the lab, but suspicion was enough to ask the questions. ‘Tell me about those drugs.’

‘No comment.’

‘Who do they belong to?’

‘No comment.’

‘Are they yours?’

‘No comment.’

‘Have you seen them before?’

‘No comment.’

‘Do you live at 12 Tower Road?’

‘No comment.’

‘Is that your house?’

‘No comment.’

‘These drugs were found there. Why were they there?’

‘No comment.’

Sarah had a knack for coming up with questions on the spot. ‘No comment’ interviews weren’t as devastating as most suspects thought. A suspect interview was simply an evidence-gathering tool, the result of which would be considered alongside all the other results prior to any charging decision being made. If everything else pointed towards the suspect's culpability, and they refused to provide an alibi in interview, the Crown Prosecution Service were more likely to bring charges against them.

‘What did you intend to do with those drugs?’

‘No comment.’

‘Did you intend to give them to someone else?’

‘No comment.’

‘Is my client being interviewed for possession or possession with intent to supply?’ Mr Bells piped up as Sarah’s questions went a little off topic.

‘Have you ever given drugs to anyone else?’ Sarah and Moretti made eye contact for the first time. She felt the end of Dales pen dig into her thigh.

‘I’m not answering that.’ Moretti shuffled in her chair, folded her arms tighter and kicked the table leg.

‘If you’re going to ask any more questions regarding the supply of drugs, I must request that my client is formally arrested and provided with the details of the suspected offence in accordance with PACE.’ Bells was right. In order to ask questions about supply, Moretti needed to be nicked for supply. Sarah wasn’t about to do that – tying Moretti to Hargreaves’s body was thin at best. She also wasn’t about to let that flicker of guilt go without a little more probing.

‘You have a child. Do you know how harmful these substances can be to a child?’

‘Shut up about my kid, yeah.’

‘Remember my advice. Stay calm and answer no comment to all questions.’ Solicitors often had a tough time controlling emotional clients. Sarah had seen it before, and was counting on it again.

Sarah held the packet of drugs up again. ‘This was found in between the cushions of your sofa. Within easy reach of a curious child. If these aren’t yours, I know I’d like to know who was bringing something into the house that could harm my son.’

‘You saying I’m a bad mum?’ Moretti hit the table with hands.

‘You’re upsetting my client with needless assertions about her competence as a parent.’

‘Cocaine can contain significant impurities, deliberately or otherwise, that can, in the worst cases, kill adults.’ A glimmer of remorse from Moretti told Sarah she was onto something. ‘What would happen if you took something you didn’t know was poisoned and the worst happened?’

‘Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Or if someone else did? Someone you know. Someone who had been given cocaine, none the wiser as to exactly what was actually in the bag.’

Moretti’s eyes reddened. Sarah was getting through.

‘It wasn’t what you think.’ Moretti mumbled through gritted teeth.

‘Who is Eamon? Are you Eamon?’

‘Let’s stop this farce and have a private discussion.’ Mr Bell’s voice showed his frustration.

Sarah addressed Moretti directly. ‘Your solicitor has suggested taking a break for a further consultation. The decision to do that is yours and not his. If you want to, please let me know.’ Sarah offered, hoping she’d decline and just keep going. They were having a conversation that Mr Bells, despite his proximity and keen attention to its content, had no idea was taking place.

‘I’d like to talk to my solicitor please.’

Sarah waited by the custody sergeant’s desk. The custody block was small and outdated. The three sergeant’s desks were raised above standard head height, preventing unruly suspects from lashing out and injuring the staff whilst being booked in. Custody was rarely quiet. Checks on detainees had to be made and recorded at very specific times, food offered and prepared, an inspector had to conduct welfare and detention reviews and a range of visitors, from solicitors to appropriate adults, had to be managed. Weekend night shifts, not to mention bank holidays or any other time locals liked a drink, were the worst. The faint smell of vomit and sweat-drenched clothes never left the cells. Catching the waft as she waited reminded her of her uniform days. Bringing in obnoxious drunks after a town-centre roll around had an appeal that had only lasted so long.

Dales returned from the toilet and joined her. She stood on her toes and tried to look past the sergeant’s desk and through into the back office. ‘Sarge?’

Sergeant Smith came out to the desk. ‘Sorry. Busy back there updating the spreadsheet.’

‘If it’s not on a spreadsheet, it hasn’t happened. It’s the same upstairs,’ said Dales.

‘As if updating the custody logs wasn’t enough. We’ve got to email an Excel document over to the bosses at the end of each shift detailing everything from who visited custody to when anyone takes a shit.’

‘Keeps the bean counters employed,' said Dales.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Gents. Sarge, we’ve just come out of interview with Moretti, cell six. Further legal consultation requested.’

‘Something else to record. Thank you, Gladstone.’ He smiled. ‘How’s life in CID? Keeping those chairs warm?’

‘I would be, if I didn’t spend all day carrying around empty files just to look busy,’ said Sarah, playing into the desk-warming detective stereotype.

‘I see Dales has taught you all his tricks. What prompted the move from Major Crime, Steve?’ He typed the update on his computer.

‘Fancied a change of pace. You can only spend so long in a place like that.’ The two men exchanged looks. That wasn’t the impression Sarah had of the Major Crime Team. The unit was often affectionately referred to as Dead Man’s Shoes—people didn’t tend to leave. ‘Let’s have a chat about the interview, Sarah. We’ll be in interview room two, give us a shout when they emerge.’

Dales switched on the lights in interview room two and they sat down. Sarah wondered what Moretti and Mr Bells were talking about next door. Her questions had hit a nerve, possibly a nerve linked to events at the Oxlaine, possibly something else entirely.

‘Just wanted to find out if you’re doing what I think you’re doing.’ Dales opened his empty notebook.

‘You’ve not written anything?’

‘There was nothing to write.’ He wrote
interview discussion
at the top of the page. ‘Good work in there. Risky, but good work. Think she supplied Hargreaves?’

‘Yeah, I do. She might be willing to talk about it. Maybe that’s why she asked for a break.’

‘Maybe. I’ve known Bells for years. He was new back when I was. We had some pretty awkward interviews together. Became a nice bit of sport for a while.’

‘Do you think I was a bit too pushy?’ Sarah was concerned that she'd gone a little too far off topic. Too much of that, could deem an interview inadmissible

‘Sometimes you have to get a little creative. You didn’t get flustered at her refusal to answer. Many young DCs do.’

‘Young?’

‘In the professional sense. And the general life sense, of course.’

‘Forced compliments don’t count.’

‘Then don’t squeeze them out of me.’

‘I did nothing of the sort.' Sarah moved the discussion back to the interview. 'Right, let’s run through the plan. I’ve asked all I want about the drugs we found today. I’d say it’s unlikely we’ll get a possession charge unless we get some prints on the bag. It wasn’t out on display, so if all three clam up in interview, we’ve got nothing to tie anyone to it.’

‘Pretty accurate assessment.’

‘Bells is likely to reinforce his advice, so it’s unlikely she’ll open up about supplying Hargreaves. Of course, I could be adding two and two together and getting five. I doubt Sergeant Smith would accept me arresting her for supply based on her bust line and an emotional interview.’

Knock Knock.

The door opened and Sergeant Smith leant in. ‘Brief wants a word?’

Mr Bells walked in. ‘Sorry for the delay. She’s rather emotional in there.’

‘Your charm not working, Bob?’ Dales moved to the next chair to allow him to sit down.

‘I’m not the sweet-talker you are, Steve.’ Mr Bells sat back and opened his A4 jotter, keeping his notes just out of their view. ‘I didn’t know you were tutoring? Major Crime not all it cracked up to be?’

‘Moving around keeps us young. How long you been working Mavenswood now? Twenty-five-odd years?’

‘Long enough to know when two detectives aren’t telling me something.’ He looked at Sarah. She felt a burn of panic in her chest. Solicitors still intimidated her. They weren’t the slimeballs some officers took them for, but she was acutely aware of how much trouble she’d be in if she’d crossed the line in an interview.
Surely Dales would have stopped me had I gone overboard?

‘What makes you say that? The pre-interview disclosure was clear and Sarah asked questions along those lines.’

‘Let’s talk straight. I think I already know the answer to this question and I’d appreciate it if we were all up front about it. Are you looking at my client for any other offences?’

‘If she’s mentioned anything she’d like to confess to, we’d happily hear all about it.’ Dales wasn’t giving anything away. Sarah sat quietly, fearing that if she interrupted the two old dogs, she’d only get bitten.

Mr Bells sighed. ‘Steve, you know it doesn’t work like that. It hasn’t worked like that for a long time. I’m not here to give you new offences to investigate. I’m here to protect my client, not to make your lives easier. That being said, if you’ve got her in mind for another offence, I can go back in and talk to her about anything she might like to say about it.’

‘She can either tell us, or not. It’s that simple.’ Dales wasn’t budging. Sarah couldn’t understand why he was being so stubborn. Mr Bells seemed to be giving it to them on a plate. He wouldn’t be offering anything at all had Moretti just sat there quietly. It was clear to her that a further offence had been discussed and Mr Bells wanted her to talk about it. It seemed he just needed some reassurance she wasn’t about to implicate herself in something she hadn’t done.

‘Okay.’ Mr Bells held his hands up in defeat. ‘We’ll set the interview back up in a few minutes. There can’t be much else to ask on the possession count, so I guess we’ll just restart the tapes and wrap it all up.’ He looked at Sarah as if pleading for some common sense. ‘I’ll have Sergeant Smith bring her back out from her cell.’

Sarah broke her silence as soon as he left the room. ‘What was that about? He couldn’t have given us more hints if he tried. Why don’t we just tell him?’

‘You don’t want to play into a solicitor’s hands like that. Bells is one of the better ones, but don’t think he’s being your friend. It’s all part of the show.’ Dales gave her a determined look. He wasn't budging.

‘I get that, but I don’t see what we have to lose. We’ve not got anything else to go on and if she leaves custody, we risk her destroying any outstanding evidence that may link her to Hargreaves. Not all solicitors are out to get us. We need to get past that and get the job done right.’

Dales didn’t respond. She respected the confrontational nature of police officers’ relationships with solicitors. The commonly held perspective was that police officers were trying to lock people up and solicitors were trying to keep them on the streets. Each party played by certain rules and, although they carried strict penalties should they be broken, were often bent in the pursuit of the right result. Sadly, there were crooks on either side and, from his blunt and immovable way of dealing with this situation, she was sure Dales had seen his fair share.

‘Right. I’m going.’ She walked into the corridor and caught Mr Bells just before he went back into consultation. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘The time is 09:53. This is the continuation of the interview with Sally-Anne Moretti. Do you agree the same people are in the room now as were before the break?’

Moretti nodded.

‘Sally, I need verbal answers for the tape.’

‘Yes.’ Moretti sat quietly, and had lost her fire from the first interview.

‘Thank you. And please confirm you were not asked any questions during the break and neither myself nor DS Dales spoke to you on any matter pertaining to the case.’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘I must remind you, you’re still under caution and you still have the ongoing right to free and independent legal advice.’

Mr Bells opened his file and took out a sheet of paper with hardly legible writing on it. ‘My client has prepared a statement which she would like me to read. I wrote it, but they are her words and she has signed at the bottom to confirm this. May I read it for the tape?’

‘Please do.’ Prepared statements were commonly used to outline a suspect’s position. Sarah had only encountered them once before, but the process was simple enough.

‘I, Sally-Anne Moretti, hereby make this statement in relation to the events of Friday 12th September 2010.

Sheila Hargreaves and I met online and started a relationship a few weeks ago. Sheila and I met for a night out. A room was booked at the Oxlaine Hotel through a friend, as being a new relationship I was cautious about her meeting my son too soon. We drank a lot, I cannot say exactly how much, but would definitely say we were both drunk. I found that the cocaine she’d bought had been poisoned. It had been laced with something harmful, although I do not know what. I called her numerous times, but she did not pick up. I immediately went to the Oxlaine Hotel to try and stop her from taking it, but the security guard threw me off the premises.