The Silent Room (22 page)

A woman’s voice reached them through the door.

O’Neil.

She sounded less than happy. Maguire had hardly got started when the door opened and his guv’nor walked in. She stood on the threshold, holding open the door. Her voice was calm. Her eyes flashed a warning. She was as mad as hell.

‘DS Maguire, may I have a word?’

‘Guv, I’m in the middle—’

‘Please.’

When he didn’t move, O’Neil marched forward, identifying herself for the benefit of the tape, checking her watch at the same time. ‘It is 16.42 on Wednesday, October twenty-third 2013. I am Detective Superintendent Eloise O’Neil. This interview is terminated.’ She switched off the tape, her face showing no emotion whatsoever as she walked out.

Maguire got to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor as he pushed it away from the table without a word to either prisoner or advocate. He followed O’Neil out, slamming the door behind him. In the interview room, Caroline’s hand found Ryan’s.

Seething, Maguire stood to attention while O’Neil paced up and down the corridor, hands clenched by her sides, trying to keep her temper in check. It wasn’t working. She rounded on him. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’

‘I arrested him.’

‘I can see that. Why?’

‘Because the post-mortem results are in.’

‘And?’ She’d been out for most of the afternoon.

‘Fenwick was beaten to a pulp before he was hit by the car.’

‘You think Ryan did that?’

‘There’s more. It appears that the car not only hit Fenwick, it reversed over him. Someone wanted to make bloody sure he didn’t get up again. Who better than someone he could identify? The pathologist found extensive leg injuries consistent with impact from a large vehicle, probably a four-by-four. The measurements coincide with that of a Land Rover Discovery 2, which is what Ryan drives.’

‘I’m well aware of what he drives.’ O’Neil looked at him pointedly.
‘Only
a Discovery 2?’

‘Well, no . . .’ Caught out, Maguire blushed. ‘But I still have grounds for detention and arrest. Accident investigators have conclusive proof that the offending vehicle was fitted with Goodrich All-Terrain tyres—’

‘Which you’re going to tell me he uses.’

Maguire nodded. ‘Yes, guv.’

‘Is that right?’ O’Neil almost laughed, even though he had planted a tiny seed of doubt in her mind. ‘Well, while you were arresting Ryan, I was comforting Hilary Fenwick. Her house was burgled by a couple of heavies she saw legging it over her garden fence when she returned home at one o’clock. Broad daylight. Does that ring any bells?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Trashed
this time,
she tells me. No finesse whatsoever. Two men. Possibly the same two’ – she used her index fingers as inverted commas –
‘detectives
who knocked on her door after her husband’s arrest.’

‘What detectives?’

‘Bogus ones, I should imagine.’ O’Neil paused, allowing time for the information to sink in. ‘No one from CID went anywhere near that house after Fenwick’s arrest. I checked. The search unit had done a thorough sweep, the team leader entirely satisfied that they had everything covered. So, it looks like you may have to reconsider. If Ryan’s vehicle is clean, you’re going to have to bail him.’

‘I don’t see why—’

‘Are you mad? You think he’s going to use his own vehicle to run over and kill a police colleague that half the force are looking for? You really think he’s that daft?’

‘The evidence—’

‘Is circumstantial and uncorroborated.’ O’Neil shut her eyes, took a long deep breath, then opened them again. ‘Fenwick and Ryan were a dream team, John. You haven’t the first idea how close they were.’

‘Bit like us, eh, guv?’

‘Don’t backchat me. Your treatment of Ryan has bordered on persecution. He knows it and so do I. It stops here. Now. He was shattered when Fenwick was found dead and, if I am any judge of character, he wasn’t faking it.’

O’Neil stopped talking and stepped away.

Two officers had come down the stairs and were ear-wigging the confrontation. Waiting for them to disappear into another interview room, a flashback of Ryan came into her head: twitching and writhing on his bed; the smell of whisky permeating every room in his tiny cottage; the Express Quest packaging – the tortured-soul expression on his face when he woke and found her leaning over him. She hoped it was distress, not guilt, she’d witnessed.

Forensics had done an urgent job on the packaging and found jack shit. No conclusive proof that Ryan had done anything wrong or lied to her. The postage weight confirmed that view. There was nothing Maguire could pin on him, much as he might like to. O’Neil rubbed at her temples, her thoughts all over the place. She couldn’t afford to rule Ryan out totally. Nor would she rule him in without evidence. Had she been seduced by his charisma, the tenderness he’d shown towards women he valued? He cared. That much was obvious. About his sister, Hilary Fenwick, even
her.

You cold? I’ll light the fire.

‘Ryan is a reasonable man,’ she said, a niggling doubt, a little less conviction. ‘We’ve never seen eye-to-eye, but is it any wonder? You’ve done your utmost to alienate the guy since day one.’ She paused to take a breath, lowering her voice. ‘You could have talked to him, John. Asked to examine his car without arresting him. For crying out loud, have I taught you nothing?’

‘Guv, that’s not fair—’

‘No,’ she insisted. ‘What’s not fair is your gung-ho approach to your sodding job. You pull a stunt like that again and I’ll have
your
warrant card.’

About to say something, Maguire stopped himself.

O’Neil dared him to kick off, to give her an excuse to bollock him for insubordination. In every relationship there was a tipping point. This was theirs. Even he must recognize that. He backed off, dropped the attitude. Just when she thought they were done, he hung himself, telling her he stood by his decision, adamant that he was right and that Ryan was guilty.

‘Wait in my office,’ O’Neil said. ‘No, better still, get your arse over to Fenwick’s house and investigate that burglary. In future, you steer clear of DS Ryan, you hear me? You and he obviously have history and it’s not helping this enquiry. I’ll deal with him myself. Step out of line again and you’ll live to regret it.’

O’Neil re-entered the interview room at 16.55, sat down in the seat Maguire had vacated and restarted the tape. Apologizing for the interruption, she introduced herself properly to Caroline, stating her name and rank.

The two women shook hands.

Bob wagged his tail.

Ryan covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing. He didn’t want O’Neil misreading him, thinking he wasn’t taking the interview seriously. Hell, his career was at stake here. The next hour or so would decide his fate.

It was Caroline who spoke first. ‘Superintendent, I don’t want to make things awkward here but, not to put too fine a point on it, your DS is a bit of an arse. He seems to have a downer on my brother . . . sorry, my client. We’d like to know precisely why he’s been arrested.’

‘We need to examine his car,’ O’Neil said.

‘On what grounds?’

Pushing the accident investigation report across the table, O’Neil explained what she was doing for Caroline’s benefit, asking Ryan to read it out so his twin would be party to what it contained, including details pertaining to the crime scene and the post-mortem.

Ryan did as she asked, leaving out the more gory details he didn’t want Caroline to hear. ‘It appears that a vehicle very like mine was responsible for Jack’s death. It had similar physical characteristics, distance off the ground, et cetera.’ He pushed the report back towards O’Neil and spoke to her directly. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you. It wasn’t mine.’

‘You left out the part about the tyres,’ O’Neil reminded him. ‘For the tape and your legal counsel, please.’

Leaning forward, Ryan picked up the report, playing for time. Glancing at the document a second time, he began to relax.

There was a God.

‘The vehicle was sporting Goodrich All-Terrain tyres,’ he said for Caroline’s benefit.

Stumped by their significance, she turned towards him, inviting further comment.

The only thing he did was to reiterate his contention that it wasn’t his car.

O’Neil took her time. ‘Ms Ryan, whether your client likes it or not, his vehicle will have to be retained for forensic examination. This will be done as soon as humanly possible. It shouldn’t take too long to clear this matter up.’ She switched her focus to Ryan. ‘I take it you have no objection?’

Ryan was struggling to remain cool. Logic told him he was about to be found out. He felt sick – for him and his twin. He was so wound up his hands had formed into tight fists in his lap. Fortunately, they were hidden beneath the interview room table. He fixed on O’Neil. She was nobody’s fool. When no answer was forthcoming, she pushed him on it. . .

‘It seems clear to me that you’re unhappy with the idea,’ she said. ‘Is there any particular reason why you don’t want me to examine the vehicle?’

Her eyes shifted to Caroline, no doubt taking in her anxiety, waiting for a response from one or both of them. Ryan looked beyond her through the window. It had begun to get dark and was raining hard, torrents of water splashing down on to the windowsill from a blocked gutter above. Maguire was walking across the car park, looking decidedly dejected. The fact that O’Neil had sent him packing was cold comfort to Ryan.

Caroline’s voice took his attention. ‘Matt, Superintendent O’Neil asked you a question. Have you anything further to say?’

‘No, nothing.’

‘DS Ryan, I shall ask you one more time,’ O’Neil said. ‘Why don’t you want the vehicle examined?’

‘Why do you think?’

O’Neil snapped. ‘That’s not an answer.’

‘Jesus! Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me. I must be dim.’

‘Because you’ll keep it for days,’ Ryan barked. ‘It’s pissing down. My sister and I will have to make our way to Alnwick on public transport with a wet dog. Happy now?’

Caroline apologized, tried her best to take the heat out of the situation. ‘My brother has answered your question. He has nothing more to say on the matter.’

‘With respect,’ O’Neil said. ‘I think he does.’

‘Guv, how many more times have I got to say it? It wasn’t my car, I swear. And before you go to the expense and bother of forensic examination –’ Ryan pointed out the window – ‘I’d get your boy out there to check his facts. Because from where I’m sitting, he hasn’t done you any favours so far.’

Glancing over her shoulder, O’Neil head-checked Maguire, who was getting into his car. When she turned to face Ryan, she was far from happy. His bravado had bordered on insolence. No doubt she was making all sorts of judgements. Let her. He was cornered. Up against it. He needed her to reconsider. To release his vehicle before anyone got inside.

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ she said.

‘No,’ Ryan said. ‘I don’t suppose you do. I don’t use all-terrain tyres at this time of year. I use winter slalom because of where I live. You’ve seen for yourself how remote my place is. That is easily checked. Is it too much to ask that Maguire might do his job properly, just once? He’s made you look like an amateur.’

O’Neil was ready to kill. ‘When did you have the winter tyres put on?’

‘A fortnight ago.’

‘You can prove that?’

‘Absolutely.’ Ryan was angry and it showed. ‘Ring Simon at Bridge End Motors if you don’t believe me; he puts them on every October and stores the others for me. If you . . . if Maguire had given me the courtesy of a call, I could’ve told him that. I’d have brought the car in myself. Instead, I had to go through the humiliation of being arrested by an officer I know. How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?’

Caroline put a hand on her brother’s shoulder, the voice of reason, telling him to calm down. Trying to placate O’Neil, she apologized again for his outburst. He was incensed, justifiably so if he’d been wrongly accused. It was salt in the wound of a friend of a dead man.

Ryan didn’t dare look at O’Neil because she sensed he was nervous with something to hide. Ending the interview, she bailed him, said she’d let him know when she’d finished with his car.

43

It was getting dark as Ryan led Caroline from the station. Exiting the car park, he pulled out his phone and called a cab, a firm he used on a regular basis. He told the cab office he wanted to go into town without stating exactly where he wanted dropping off. When under suspicion, it paid not to be specific.

‘Aren’t we going to Fenham?’ Caroline asked.

‘Not yet.’

‘Why not?’

They turned right, heading east along the West Road, huddling together under her umbrella. ‘We’ve got a slight problem,’ Ryan said.

‘We?’

‘Me, I meant me.’

Stopping at the lights, Caroline’s Labrador waited patiently at the kerb to guide her across the road, doing his job as if Ryan wasn’t there. He was a fantastic dog, the best so far, keeping her mobile, providing companionship – her lifeline – and yet he’d retire in a few years’ time, to be replaced by another, equally amazing animal.

A coach pulled away from a bus stop, oblivious to a passing motorcyclist, almost wiping him out. Ryan kept his eyes on the busy road. When he was a rookie cop, he’d been called to a horrific accident further along this same stretch. A girl had been knocked down on a pelican crossing by an uninsured driver. She’d suffer catastrophic head injuries and almost died. The event had stuck with him, made him wonder how his sister coped without coming to grief with more traffic on the roads than ever before. He wondered if Jack had felt the impact, if he’d known his time was up as he lay dying in that awful hospital bed.

The cab pulled up, the driver waiting patiently for them all to get in. ‘Where we off to, folks?’ he asked.

‘City centre,’ Ryan said. ‘Let you know when we get there.’

Caroline pulled on her seat belt. ‘Matt, what aren’t you telling me?’

Ryan did likewise, took hold of her hand. ‘Not here.’