Felix Francis - Guilty Not Guilty

I loved his enthusiasm. It was almost catching.

‘So we start with the hotel,’ he said. ‘Get a copy of their CCTV film and other electronic data, such as from their door locks.’

‘Door locks?’

‘Yes, door locks. Did you use a metal key or a card?’

I thought back.

‘It was a plastic card, like a credit card.’

‘Then there will be an electronic record of when you used it to enter your room. I prosecuted a theft case last year in Luton where the defence was able to show conclusively that three different cards were used to enter a particular hotel room around the time the valuables went missing. It was enough to put sufficient doubt in the minds of the jury to acquit the accused.’

‘But won’t the police already have that information?’

‘Maybe, or maybe not. I’d not heard of it before. But, either way, they’re looking for proof of a different scenario. If they find something that doesn’t match their theory, they disregard it. They’ll go digging for something else instead. And they won’t tell us something that will help us prove your innocence, certainly not at this early stage in the game. That’s up to us.’

It was good to hear him being so positive, and inclusive.

‘And if the hotel key system or CCTV doesn’t prove it, we’ll find other footage from shops, houses and even dashcams in other cars, anything that shows that your car was in the hotel car park all night. There must also be an ANPR camera somewhere between the hotel and your house.’

‘ANPR?’

‘Automatic Number Plate Recognition. There are thousands of cameras, on all the motorways and main roads, recording the number plate of every car that passes them. Thirty million or so hits every day. They will show if your car moved, unless you used only very minor roads. I assume the police have checked your mobile phone but just because your phone didn’t move doesn’t mean that you didn’t. You could have left it in your hotel room for that very reason.’

He knew all the arguments.

‘Tracking my phone was how they knew I was in Wales.’

Douglas nodded. ‘People don’t realise how easy that is. And mobile phones and computers are the very first things to be seized on arrest. Everyone thinks of their electronic devices as their faithful friends but they have no sense of loyalty. They will grass up their owner’s secrets to anyone who has access to them.’

‘How about passwords?’

‘Forensic extraction technology has a way around those. I see it all the time in organised-crime cases, but it applies to everyone.’

‘That’s scary,’ I said.

‘It certainly is. And smartphones contain the record of our whole lives these days — photos, emails, calendar, contacts, texts, calls, social media, the lot. Nothing is safe from Big Brother if they have your phone.’

I could imagine DS Dowdeswell trawling through all the mundane things on my phone, such as texts from my dentist about an upcoming appointment or to my local dry cleaners about mending a coat. At least he would also see the lovey-dovey messages between Amelia and myself, and find no evidence that I had a bit-on-the-side. Indeed, I had nothing to hide on either my phone or my computer, just as long as Joe Bradbury hadn’t hacked in and stored something I hadn’t seen.

‘I just hope the police read Joe’s foul emails. It will show them what he’s really like. Getting hold of his phone is what they ought to do. He claims that Amelia called and asked him to come over on that Wednesday morning, but he’s lying, and the phone records will prove it. She’d have never done that. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.’

‘Let’s not jump the gun,’ Douglas said. ‘First, we prove it couldn’t have been you that killed Amelia. Only then will we set about finding out who did.’

‘I’d like to see the manager, please,’ I said.

I was back at the Edgbaston Manor Hotel on Thursday morning, having caught a train from London to Birmingham.

‘What about?’ asked the female receptionist defensively.

‘That’s between him and me,’ I replied. ‘It’s not a complaint.’

‘It’s a her actually,’ she said. ‘The manager is a woman.’

‘Great,’ I said, giving her a smile.

The receptionist disappeared into an office behind the desk but soon returned with another woman dressed in a three-piece pinstriped suit, white shirt and dark tie. The manager may have been a woman but she was dressed like a man.

‘I’m Karen Wentworth, the manager,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I stayed here last week...’

‘I know, Mr Gordon-Russell,’ she interrupted icily. ‘The police came here about you on Monday.’

‘Oh,’ I said, slightly taken aback that she recognised me so readily. ‘What did they want?’

‘To search the room you stayed in.’

‘Did they find anything?’

She shook her head. ‘I told them it was a waste of time. Two other guests had been in that room in the interim so it had been cleaned three times since you were there.’ She smiled. ‘Our cleaners are very good.’

‘But the police searched it nevertheless.’

‘They did,’ she agreed. ‘Took the drains apart beneath the shower and the wash basin too. They made quite a mess.’

DS Dowdeswell was nothing if not thorough.

‘Did they want anything else?’

‘Copies of all our CCTV recordings.’

‘That’s what I was hoping you might give me .’

‘But why should I help you?’ she asked. ‘The papers claim you’re a wife killer who should be in jail.’

She started to turn away.

‘But the papers are wrong,’ I said quickly. ‘I haven’t killed anyone. I was asleep in my room at this hotel for the whole night while someone else was murdering my wife and I need your CCTV footage to prove it.’

‘So why were you arrested when the police already have a copy of our recordings?’

It was a very good question and one that I’d been asking myself as well.

Karen Wentworth turned away again.

‘Please,’ I cried in desperation, my voice cracking with emotion. ‘It’s bad enough that the woman I adored has been taken from me without also being accused of killing her. You are my only hope.’

She slowly turned back.

‘Come with me.’

I followed her past the reception desk and into the office behind.

‘I’m afraid our CCTV system is quite old,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘It is due to be upgraded next month.’

Old will do , I thought, as long as it shows what I need.

But it didn’t.

The image of the car park only showed the exit and, at night with car headlights on, the image was so grainy it was impossible to tell even the make of the vehicles that went in and out, let alone their number plates.

‘We’ve recently decided to install a barrier at the exit,’ Karen said. ‘To stop people parking in there who are not hotel guests. It gets particularly bad when there’s a big match at the cricket ground.’ She paused as if in apology for even mentioning it. ‘But we haven’t done it yet.’

Shame.

‘What else have you got?’

She pulled up the images from the hotel lobby but they were equally useless. There was only one black-and-white camera in the reception area and that concentrated on the desk itself rather than the front door. It had clearly been designed to catch staff stealing from the till, rather than the hotel comings and goings.

‘Is that all?’ I asked in disappointment.

‘I’m sorry,’ Karen said. ‘To be honest, I didn’t realise just how poor it is. No wonder we’re replacing it. The only decent camera is the one we recently installed in the indoor pool area, so we could see if someone is in trouble. We had a nasty incident last year when an unsupervised child nearly drowned.’