One Way Ticket (21 page)

27 The Dead Can’t Testify

Once we finished celebrating,
the enormity of the task in hand struck. We still had to get her to confess and
I wasn’t even certain that she was guilty. There was no evidence against her,
nothing that she could be arrested for, nothing even to try and force a
confession. How could we do it? And we only had 24 hours to come up with
something, she was arriving the next day. No pressure.

I called an emergency Columbo meeting at
my house that evening so Aunt June could get in on it. Addi tried to protest
but I pointed out we needed all the help we could get now we’d officially hit
panic stations.

“Tell me where you are with the case and
what you know about Susan,” Aunt June suggested when the three of us were
seated in the living room.

“Who?” I asked.

“Tina’s sister! Lord help us.”

“Oh yes, Susan. Addis’ been finding out
about Tina’s illness before her death. What’s the latest?” I asked him.

“Nothing. She didn’t go to the doctor so
there’s no record of it. Her neighbours say she thought she’d had a touch of
stomach flu.”

“And it was when her sister was staying?”

“Yes, her family were making their yearly
visit. Tina said it was lucky her sister was there at the time, she had someone
to look after her.”

“Humpf. If that’s what she was doing.”

“Did any of her neighbours get stomach
flu?” Aunt June asked.

“No.”

“I don’t remember it going round.”

“No,” Addi confirmed. “I asked one of the
health clinics, they say there was no outbreak in September. It doesn’t mean
she didn’t have it though, the odd case is possible.”

“Could a poisoning look like stomach flu?”
I asked.

“Possibly,” Addi answered. “Depends what
the poison is. We didn’t find anything suspicious in her apartment, but we
weren’t exactly looking for poisons.”

“What about Susan Robinson’s alibi?” my
aunt asked.

“I checked again,” Addi told her. “Her
hairdresser still swears she was there all afternoon getting a perm. Do they
really take that long?”

I remembered an embarrassing poodle-like
perm in my youth. “Can do. She must have got out somehow, maybe when her
hairdresser thought she was under the dryer?”

“Is this getting us anywhere?” Aunt June
asked.

“No.” I pulled out Tina’s case file and
flipped it open.

“That’s not the file from work?” Addi
asked.

“Yes. It’s too big to copy.”

He gulped and seemed to pale slightly. “I think
I feel a bit sick.”

“Don’t get hysterical,” I warned him.
“Look,” I continued, “it’s possible Tina’s sister wanted to bump her off and
tried to poison her first. When that didn’t work, she came back and strangled
her. It’s a good theory but there’s no evidence and no witnesses that Susan is
the murderer. We don’t even have much of a motive other than, according to you,”
I looked at Aunt June, “they didn’t always get on. Basically, we’re just
operating on rumour.”

“You’ve got nothing at all?” Aunt June
queried.

“Nope.”

“Instead of a strategy session I think you
should have called a prayer meeting.”

“Not helping,” I berated her, trying to
keep my tone light. “Let’s make some notes about Susan, shall we? The more we
know about her, the more likely we’ll be able to get her to crack.” Picking up
a pen I sat with it poised over a notepad. “Aunt June?”

“I don’t know that much about her. She
moved away six or seven years ago, probably not long after Tina arrived.”

“Interesting,” I told her, scribbling that
down.

“She’s a widow as well, a couple of years
older than Tina. Two children, her life’s very average if you ask me.”

“Love life?”

“I don’t remember ever seeing her with a
man after her husband died.”

“What would cause a woman like that to
kill?”

“Money?” Aunt June suggested.

“You checked Susan’s bank accounts, didn’t
you?” I asked Addi.

“Yes, she’s not well off but she gets a
reasonable widows’ pension from her husband.”

I suddenly had a brainwave. “What about a
windfall?” I asked. “An insurance policy or an elderly relative she stands to
inherit from? Something that would have made Susan’s share bigger if she didn’t
have to split it with her sister.”

Aunt June pulled a face. “Jennifer, the
way your mind works sometimes.”

“Nothing we could find,” Addi said. Given
the police methods I’d seen so far, this didn’t fill me with confidence.

“Then it must be a bloke.” I looked at the
other two for affirmation. “There isn’t anything else that makes sense. It must
have been something serious if she came back a second time to finish her off.”

“It may not be her at all, you know,” Aunt
June said.

“This rumour is all we have to go on,” I said,
ignoring the fact that I’d started it in the first place. I turned to Addi.
“When we’re in the interview room I think we should concentrate on discussing
her and Tina’s men friends.”

“We?” Addi queried.

“I have to be there. I need to hear her
answers to be able to judge if she’s guilty or not.”

“I don’t know how the chief’s going to
feel about that.”

“She’s an expat, I’m an expat liaison.
What’s the problem? Right, when we’re interrogating her, you be the good cop
and I’ll be the bad cop.”

“I have a very bad feeling about this,”
Addi grumbled.

“Do you want me to put the Columbo video
on?” I asked. “He does a good interrogation in this one. Might give you some
ideas?”

It’s safe to say the ‘Get Susan’ scheme
didn’t exactly start off according to plan the next day.

Addi and I had agreed Susan Robinson should
wait in my office when she arrived before being taken to one of the interview
rooms to ‘finalise a few details’. I had positioned a chair carefully to give
me maximum observation opportunities, the idea being to make her squirm a
little before applying the thumbscrews.

When my phone went around 11am, reception
announced that a Susan Robinson and a James Trott were waiting. Who the hell
was James Trott? She hadn’t brought a lawyer, had she? I ran to tell Addi.

“This is all going wrong already,” he said.

“I know. Makes her look more guilty
though, if she’s brought a lawyer.”

“You go get them. Take them to your office
like we planned, I’ll be along in a minute to find out what’s going on,” he
said.

I walked to reception with a bad feeling
we weren’t going to get our confession.

“Mrs Robinson, thank you for coming” I
welcomed her. “And, oh−”

I felt a little flush come to my cheeks as
I was faced with her rather gorgeous son again. My hand automatically started
smoothing down my hair before I could stop it. “I didn’t realise you were here
Mr Robinson.”

“Trott,” he said, rising out of his seat
slightly. “James Trott.”

I half-turned to Mrs Robinson. “I thought you
were Susan’s son?”

“James is my son-in-law,” Mrs Robinson
told me. “He and my daughter have been visiting for Christmas.”

“Oh. I see. Well, let me show you the way.”
Flustered, I took them back to my office and rushed to provide another chair.
Once they were settled, I left on the pretext of getting them drinks.

“It’s alright,” I told Addi, “he’s not a
lawyer. He’s her son-in-law.”

“Right, well, we’ll still need to split
them up, they can’t both be in the interview room. She’ll never confess with
him there.”

“I know.”

“You take him to get the stuff, I’ll take
her into the room to sign the forms and start the questioning.”

“I won’t be there for the interrogation then,”
I protested.

“It can’t be helped,” he told me, not
looking at all upset.

I should have felt glad I would get James
to myself but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed I wouldn’t get the glory of
cracking his mother-in-law. It was my instincts that had gotten us this far. I
stropped off to get their drinks knowing how unlikely it was that Addi would be
able to wring a confession out of her.

Returning to my office, I plonked Susan
Robinson’s drink unceremoniously on the nearby desk. Mr Right’s I handed over
personally with a smile and was pleased to see it reciprocated. Before I could
embarrass myself any further, Addi arrived to collect Susan Robinson who,
instead of looking agitated and stressed as we’d hoped, seemed perfectly calm
and composed. The plan wasn’t working.

“Can you take Mr, er...” Addi started.

“Trott,” I filled in.

“Yes, Mr Trott to the evidence room?”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help
you ‘liaise’?” I queried. “You know how tricky the English language can be.”

“No thank you, Jennifer. If you could just
help Mr Trott.”

He led Susan Robinson away without even a
backward glance.

“Come on,” I told James, “let’s get your
stuff.”

“Worth a bit, is it?” he asked as I led
him out.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Good, that’ll come in handy.”

“Not that warm today, is it?” I said,
noticing James was rubbing his hands together.

“Never is this time of year. Don’t worry,
it’ll pick up in a few months. Been here long?”

“Getting on for four months,” I said, not
really paying much attention. It was impossible to imagine Addi would be able
to get Susan Robinson to confess on his own. This whole day was going to be for
nothing, I could tell, and after all my hard work.

“Cyprus is lovely in spring, especially
this area. Better than where Susan lives.”

 “Down here,” I directed James, turning a
corner and heading along another corridor.

“You’re lucky,” he went on, “I’d love to
live over here but we haven’t got the money. I tried to get a business loan to
open a bar when we were here a few months ago, but they wouldn’t give it me.
Bloody banks.”

“Hmm,” I sympathised, my mind still on what
was happening in the interrogation room.

We’d reached the door to the evidence
room. Breaking all protocols, Addi had given me a key which he’d signed out
himself. I couldn’t get it to open.

“Here, let me,” James offered. He opened
it easily as if the lock were made of butter. I hate it when men do that.

“Thanks. Lucky you’re so strong. I’ll just
get your aunt’s belongings,” I said and went inside the room. Addi had left the
plastic sack with Tina’s possessions by the door so it didn’t take long to fetch
it.

James’ eyes were bright with anticipation
when I came back out, giving them an almost unearthly blueness. It really was
unfair that he was so good looking. His hands reached out and grabbed the bag
from me before I’d even shut the door. Poor sod, wait till he saw what was in
there.

“I’ll take you back to the office,” I said
and headed off down the corridor again.

He didn’t follow me. Such was his
eagerness, he had already undone the tie and was pulling objects out of the sack.

“What’s this?” he exclaimed loudly,
dropping objects on the floor. “What’s all this shit?”

His voice seemed to have lost its cultured
edge, coming out rough and, I almost gasped, a little bit Essex.

“Valuable, I was told,” he continued
before I could say anything. He looked up at me with eyes that no longer struck
by their blueness but by their hardness and menace, he looked like he was
rapidly descending into the red mist. Mr Right was turning into Mr Hyde.

That’s when it all fell into place.

I looked at his large, muscular hands
clutching a string of flimsy plastic beads and could easily picture them
tightening something around Tina’s throat. How could we have ever thought the
murderer was her sister?

A quick check around me confirmed that
there was never a policeman around when you needed one.

“She had objects that were valuable,
that’s what I was told, innit?” A small bit of spittle flew out of his mouth as
he spoke which, as well as being very unattractive, was more than a little
disturbing.

I turned back, careful to maintain my
distance from him (which unfortunately wasn’t much). “Potentially valuable, I
think they said. Got it wrong again, have they?” I asked, trying to back away
down the corridor.

“What do you think?” he screamed and threw
the plastic jewellery at me. Ducking, I was suddenly aware how large he was and
how narrow this corridor had become.

“I should have known it. I should have
known this would turn to shit as well,” he was ranting. “How can she have had
nothing? How can someone get to that age and have nothing? Not even their own
home?”

“You didn’t know. You didn’t know she
didn’t own that apartment. That’s why you did it.”

“I didn’t do nothing,” he told me,
advancing now in a threatening way.

I’d backed up as far as possible against
the wall. Running would have been a better idea but I couldn’t seem to get my
legs working.

“What were you going to do?” I heard
myself ask. “Wait until your mother-in-law had inherited, then finish her off
as well? Going to have a little accident, was she?”

“James?” a voice queried behind me.
Turning round, I saw Addi had arrived in the corridor with Mrs Robinson.

“Don’t listen, Susan, it’s all rubbish,”
he shouted.

“No,” I called to her. “He killed your sister
and you were going to be next.”

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my
back on the floor with James’ weight on me. It wasn’t quite as I might have
previously imagined it. His hands grasped my throat before I could react.

Screams echoed out but if they were mine I
couldn’t tell because suddenly everything was going grey and fuzzy. I could
feel the pressure round my neck tightening and my breaths getting shorter
before I blacked out.

When I came round, I thought for
a second I was lying in a wooded glade somewhere, I could feel a light breeze
scented with floral, woody tones passing over me. As my brain came into focus,
I found I was lying in the corridor with Vara flapping a piece of paper over
me. It was her perfume I could smell with each waft.