Peter Robinson - Not Dark Yet

But a man can only do so much reading and gardening, and on the second day of his sick leave, Banks made a few phone calls, and on the third, he took an early train from York.

‘This is the second time you’ve had me brought up here,’ Charlotte Westlake complained as Gerry tended to the recording equipment in the interview room and Annie settled down in her chair late that afternoon. ‘I hope you’ve got a damn good reason.’

‘Be careful, or you might get what you hope for,’ said Annie.

‘Wait,’ said Charlotte. ‘As the officer who arrested me and brought me here suggested, I requested my solicitor to meet me, so I would be grateful if you would please wait until she arrives. She won’t be long.’

Annie and Gerry exchanged glances, then they left a young constable on guard and went down to the canteen for a cup of tea while they waited. Coffee at Costa would have been preferable to weak canteen tea, but they didn’t want to leave the station. They had already planned the strategy of the interview, such as it was, the previous evening in the Queen’s Arms. Gerry had uncovered more than enough information from her talk with Charlotte’s mother and the box of letters and postcards Lynne Pollard had been only too happy to share. The rest had come from the General Register and the various databases available to her online. If she was right about some of the conclusions she had reached, based on scraps of information picked up here and there, Gerry was sure that Charlotte would paint herself into a corner from which the only way out was the truth.

As yet, Annie and Gerry didn’t know what that truth was, and the possibilities kept shifting with the information coming in. When all they had was a number of inspired guesses, planning a strategy became that much more difficult. They would have to improvise from time to time. The basis for Charlotte Westlake’s arrest — suspicion of murder — was probably a bit far-fetched, Gerry would be the first to admit, but it was a means of bringing her in and throwing her off guard. It would also allow them to keep her in custody for twenty-four hours if necessary.

Charlotte’s solicitor, Jessica Bowen, turned up twenty minutes later and after a ten-minute huddle with her client, they all settled down in the airless room. Gerry got the recording equipment working and made the introductions.

‘Are we all sitting comfortably?’ asked Annie. When the reply was silence, she said, ‘Then I’ll begin.’

Jessica Bowen gave her a stern glance for the frivolous Children’s Hour opening.

‘Mrs. Westlake,’ said Annie, ‘was Marnie Sedgwick your daughter?’

Clearly, whatever Charlotte Westlake had been expecting, it wasn’t this. She seemed like an animal desperate to escape its cage, squirming in her chair, turning pale, looking towards her solicitor one moment then back to her questioner the next. ‘Wha...? How do...?’ Gerry wondered how on earth she thought that they wouldn’t discover this information. More burying her head in the sand? Naive or stupid?

‘Simple enough question,’ said Annie, ignoring the reaction. ‘Can you please give me an answer?’

Charlotte took a deep breath and struggled to regain her equilibrium. Her lawyer gave her the nod to continue. ‘Technically, I suppose, yes, she is,’ she said.

‘Technically?’

‘I’m her birth mother, but as you clearly know already, I gave her up for adoption. Her true parents are the ones who brought her up.’

‘The Sedgwicks?’

‘I wasn’t aware of who adopted her. It’s not standard practice to give the birth mother such information.’

‘Did you have any hand whatsoever in her upbringing?’

‘None.’

‘How old was she when she was adopted?’

‘A baby. I never... I mean, straight away. As soon as possible. I never even held her.’

‘Who was the father?’

‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘Not to us it isn’t,’ said Annie. Then she turned over a page. ‘Very well, we’ll leave that for the moment.’ She paused and went on in a weary tone. ‘Why didn’t you save us a lot of trouble and tell us this information right from the start?’

‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant somehow. It was a long time ago. Nineteen years.’

‘ Didn’t seem relevant?’ Annie repeated. ‘That’s one of the lamest excuses for lying to us that I’ve ever come across. Don’t you agree, DC Masterson?’

‘It’s pretty lame,’ said Gerry.

‘She came back into your life,’ Annie said, ‘and not long afterwards, she was raped. And you didn’t think any of this was relevant?’

‘But there’s no connection. It’s just coincidence. I still don’t think any of this is relevant.’

‘Try again,’ Annie said. ‘ Irrelevant, coincidence — these aren’t excuses we recognise. And this time, give us the real reason why you didn’t tell us.’

‘I’ve already told you. Besides, I didn’t want to get involved. I knew you’d make too much of it.’

‘Better. A little bit,’ said Annie. ‘But you are involved, like it or not. And this lie, or omission, makes you even more so. See, when people lie to us about one thing, we assume they might be lying about other things, too.’

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ said Charlotte, clasping her hands on the table. ‘You’re just being nasty. You must know that I couldn’t have raped poor Marnie.’

‘Nobody’s suggesting you did.’

‘Then why persecute me? Why don’t you leave me alone? Any mistakes I’ve made I’ve had to live with. You’ve no right to sit in judgement on me.’

‘There’s no easy way of putting this,’ said Annie, ‘but things have taken another turn. I assume you know about Marnie’s death?’

‘Her... what?’

‘Her death,’ Annie repeated. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you might have known.’

‘How could I have known? Who was there to tell me?’

This had been a difficult part of their approach to plan. Either Charlotte knew what had happened to Marnie, or she didn’t, and there was no easy way of finding out. In the end, they decided it was best to confront her with the truth. Gerry watched closely and believed that Charlotte’s reaction was genuine, that she hadn’t known.

‘It’s very important you tell us the truth about this,’ Annie said. ‘Did you know that Marnie was dead?’

‘No.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’m not even sure I believe you. You’re trying to trick me. Tell me that’s what you’re doing.’

Gerry saw the misery etched in her features and knew she was telling the truth.

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news,’ Annie said.

‘What happened? How... I mean...?’

Annie went on. ‘She took her own life just under a month ago, on 17 May. A few days before Connor Clive Blaydon was murdered.’

‘A month,’ Charlotte repeated. ‘All that time. And I never knew. Where? Why? How?’

‘Near home. In Dorset. As for why, who knows? I assume it was because she couldn’t come to terms with what happened to her and she felt shamed, damaged, broken. Or that she found out she was pregnant.’

‘Oh, my God,’ said Charlotte. ‘Things come full circle.’

‘What does that mean?’

Charlotte started to cry and reached for a tissue from the box on the table and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t believe she’s dead.’

‘Take a minute,’ Annie said. ‘Can I get you anything?’

Charlotte held her hand up and gulped down some water. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute. Let’s just get this over with.’

‘It might take a while,’ said Annie. ‘We can take a short break if you need to. But if you’re OK to carry on, we will.’ She glanced at Jessica Bowen, who nodded.