Cath Staincliffe - Witness

Joe came out and shook his hand then took him through and along a corridor past various offices and up a flight of stairs. A different place from last time. There were posters and noticeboards along the way: everything from car crime and property marking to first aid training and Drink Aware.

Joe led Mike into a small room. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘I’m fine,’ Mike told him.

‘Wise choice,’ Joe smiled. ‘How can I help?’

Mike had practised what he’d say, tried it out in his mind this way and that but not found any way to make it sound right.

‘I can’t be a witness,’ he said bluntly. ‘I can’t do it.’

Joe Kitson just gave a half-nod. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘It’s the wife,’ Mike explained. ‘First off, someone broke in, nicked the telly. Then she had this car crash, she reckons they were trying to run her off the road.’

Joe’s face sharpened. ‘When was this?’

Mike told him.

‘You didn’t report it?’

‘She wouldn’t, and she wouldn’t let me. She thought we were being warned off. I told her she was crazy. That until someone was actually charged there was no risk.’

‘And now someone has been charged…’ Joe supplied.

‘She’s freaking out.’

Joe Kitson gave a soft breath out, looked down at the table between them.

Mike felt crappy. A henpecked husband with no guts. ‘I promised her,’ he added. ‘If it was down to me-’ Mike broke off.

‘These incidents – the burglary, the crash – I’d like you to give me all the details.’

Mike waited for him to explain.

‘I’m ninety-nine per cent certain there’s no link between this case and those incidents but I’d like to nail it one hundred per cent.’

Mike felt a bubble of hope. ‘You could do that?’

‘Building evidence, particularly in a murder inquiry, means looking at people’s actions after the actual crime is committed as well as investigating the crime itself. Keeping tabs on potential suspects if you like.’

‘You’ve been watching them.’ Mike wanted to be sure he understood properly.

Joe nodded. ‘So, take the car crash: with the place and time, your wife’s registration, it may be possible to identify the registration of the other vehicle. Trace the owner. Set your minds at rest.’

Mike felt relieved, until he imagined trying to get Vicky on board. ‘She won’t listen to reason.’

‘But if she had proof? Knew for certain there was no connection?’

Mike allowed maybe she’d rethink. ‘I can tell you where and when and that.’

Joe nodded. ‘Good. Now as for the future – the trial. Like I said on the phone, there’ll be special measures in place to ensure you can’t be intimidated while giving your evidence.’

‘And before the trial?’

Joe held up his thumb, counted it off. ‘You’re not known to the defendants, correct?’

Mike nodded.

Joe stretched out his first finger, tapped it. ‘You work in the area where the crime was carried out?’

Mike shook his head. He didn’t work anywhere, any more.

Joe added a second finger to his tally of advantages. ‘You live in the area?’

‘No,’ Mike said.

Joe lowered his hand. ‘The defendants will not be given your name or any details that could help them identify you.’

‘What about their lawyers? They’ll see my statement and that?’

‘Yes, but they won’t be passing it on to their clients. And remember these guys have entered not guilty pleas. Interfering with independent witnesses would sabotage their position.’

Mike still wasn’t sure, and if he wasn’t, Vicky wouldn’t be. ‘What d’you mean, independent?’

‘You don’t know any of the people involved, you have no possible axe to grind, no ulterior motive, nothing to gain. It’s the strongest form of testimony we can get. Other witnesses with a prior relationship could have all sorts of dubious reasons for pointing the finger and the defence will milk that for all it is worth. Rip ’em apart. Have to, that’s the way it works. But you, you’re the bedrock.’ Joe sat back, studied Mike. ‘Money’s always an issue but if your wife needs further reassurance we are sometimes able to relocate people in temporary accommodation for the duration.’

Mike thought of Kieran, the nightmare that would be. ‘We couldn’t,’ he said. ‘My lad, he relies on things staying exactly the same.’

‘Perhaps other measures? Panic alarms? Talk to your wife about it. We can always get one of our security guys round to beef things up at the house. Meanwhile I’ll get those details from you and set to work eliminating those previous upsets from the picture. How’s that sound?’

Mike felt a flare of optimism. Joe agreed with him, they were not being targeted, and with hard proof Vicky would have to see sense. ‘Thanks, yeah, do that.’

Vicky grilled him when he got home. Mike bluffed his way through it. Yes, he’d asked to withdraw, retract they called it, and he had to give reasons and then they had to look into it. Lots of paperwork and stuff like that, same as everything else these days. He had decided he would wait to hear from Joe about the crash before he tackled her head on.

A week later Joe phoned him. They had traced the vehicle that hit Vicky even though the crash itself hadn’t been caught on camera. The silver Mercedes (not BMW) belonged to a twenty-year-old from Alderley Edge whose parents had more money than sense. Undercover police observation of the major suspects in the murder inquiry had confirmed that all had been elsewhere at the time that Mike’s place was burgled.

Armed with the solid facts, Mike suggested a night out to Vicky; they asked her mum round to babysit. They couldn’t afford to eat out but went to the flicks instead. Watched the latest action blockbuster and had a drink in the bar after. They talked about the kids for a bit, they always talked about the kids. And Vicky made him laugh telling him about some of the daft things her clients had said. He got another round in and some dry-roasted nuts.

‘I heard from the police,’ he told her. ‘It’s good news.’

‘Go on,’ she said, still pretty easy-going.

‘The car crash, they’ve traced the other car. Nothing to do with the court case at all. Total coincidence. Same with the break-in.’

Her face changed, the colour fading from her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes dimming. Disappointment, then temper, in the set of her mouth.

‘And they’ll give us protection,’ he said, his voice too eager, too brittle. ‘Better locks, panic alarms if we want it, not that there’s any risk, just if we want it. And my name, it’ll be kept out, I’ll be anonymous.’

‘I don’t believe this,’ she cut in. ‘Is this what tonight’s about? You promised me-’

‘Vicky, just listen.’

‘No!’

Mike was aware of the hostility between them and how people around were picking up on it: glancing their way, shifting position. The threat of a domestic in the air. ‘He explained it all to me,’ Mike raced on, a loud whisper, not wanting to shout his business for the entertainment of the bar. ‘We are not at risk, we are not a target. We never were.’

‘Of course he’d say that,’ she countered. ‘He wants you up there. People know it’s not safe to talk, that’s why it’s taken so long, why they had to offer a reward. It’s not safe. Not when it’s a gang thing. And those two are gang leaders!’

Mike groaned, rubbed at his face. Why was she so bloody set on this? ‘I think the police know more about it than you do.’

‘You are so gullible.’ She stood up. ‘Well, I’m not going to watch you risk everything. I’ve already told you – you want to do this, Mike, you do it on your own.’ She walked away, pulling her coat on. The people around watched Mike, pretending not to, to see if he would follow.