Michael Ridpath - Final Venture

I called Craig to give him the good news about Net Cop. But I found it hard to share his enthusiasm that morning. The divers worried me. If they found the gun I would be in big trouble. But there was nothing I could do about it, save collect my passport and head to the airport. It was a tempting idea, but I knew I had to beat this threat, not run away from it.

I struggled through till lunch. I was just finishing a bagel at my desk when I heard heavy footsteps down the corridor. I glanced up, and in marched Mahoney, accompanied by two other detectives, and Gil, looking stern.

'Afternoon,' I said, as I chewed my last mouthful of bagel.

Mahoney didn't return my greeting. 'I'd like you to come with me to the DA's office and answer a few questions.'

'Have you ever seen this before?'

Mahoney was holding a silver-grey revolver. I had never seen it before. But I said nothing.

We were in the DA's office in Salem. Mahoney had given me a formal warning this time, and I had exercised my right to have Gardner Phillips present. Mahoney had brought in reinforcements as well in the shape of an Assistant District Attorney named Pamela Leyser. She was a well-groomed blonde-haired woman in her late thirties, very crisp and businesslike. I shook her hand and smiled at her. She didn't smile back.

Gardner Phillips had absolutely insisted that I say nothing. He was watching Mahoney like a hawk, looking for a slip-up in his questioning. He seemed competent and in control, although during our hurried discussions before the interview, he seemed totally uninterested in my attempt to convince him that I was innocent. He just wanted to know what evidence the police had and how they had got it.

'It's a Smith and Wesson three fifty-seven Magnum. It was used to murder Frank Cook.'

No response.

'Do you know where we found it?'

Of course I did. I'd seen them looking. But no response.

'It was in this plastic bag.' Mahoney held up a bedraggled Boots bag. 'Do you recognize it? I believe it comes from a British store.'

No answer.

'We found the bag with the gun in it in the Basin by the Esplanade. On the route your wife takes when she goes running. How do you think it got there?'

Once again, no reply.

'She threw it there, didn't she?'

Nothing.

'We have a witness who saw her running out of your street carrying something heavy in a plastic bag. We have another who saw her running back toward your house from the direction of the river carrying nothing.'

That sounded pretty damning.

Mahoney carried on, piling up the evidence against me. It sounded convincing. There had been tension between Frank and me over the way he had treated me at work, over money and over his fear that I was cheating on his daughter. I needed money to appeal the judgement in my sister's legal case. Because of the success of BioOne, I had realized that Frank would be worth several million. I had gone to Marsh House, argued with him, and shot him. I had hidden the murder weapon, but Lisa had found it. She had gone jogging with the gun in a plastic bag, and thrown it in the river before the police had had a chance to search the apartment again. She had protected me, but because of what she had found, she decided she couldn't live with me any more. So she had left.

I wanted to tell him that he had got it all wrong. Or at least half of it. But I put my faith in Gardner Phillips and kept quiet. The Assistant District Attorney watched it all, unblinking. Although she said nothing, both Mahoney and Phillips seemed intensely aware of her presence.

Eventually the questioning ceased and I was led along a corridor. I still hadn't been arrested, and I was technically free to go, but Gardner Phillips wanted to have a few words with Pamela Leyser. I passed a small waiting area, and saw Lisa sitting there, a middle-aged man in a suit next to her.

'Lisa!'

She turned. For a moment she looked surprised to see me, but she didn't smile.

I moved towards her. 'Lisa-'

I felt some pressure on my elbow as Gardner Phillips pulled me away.

'But-'

'You don't think it's a coincidence you saw her here, do you?' he said. 'It's much the best thing if you say nothing to her, especially here. She's got a lawyer. I'll talk to him.'

I left her watching me, expressionless, as though I were someone she didn't know. It unsettled me.

I was put in a bare-walled interview room, with a table and a couple of chairs, while Phillips went off to talk to the Assistant DA.

It took a while. I was scared. Shut in this room, still free in theory to leave, I could feel my liberty slipping away from me. The process was starting. Arrest could not be far away. And with it jail, a hearing, a trial, a media feeding frenzy. Even if I was found not guilty, my life would probably be changed for ever. And what if they found me guilty?

I was glad Lisa had stood by me. But she was the one person I really needed to talk to about this, the person on whom I had learned to rely over the last couple of years. If I had felt she truly were on my side, all this would have been much more bearable. But she wasn't. Her reluctance to help the police stemmed from the last vestiges of loyalty to me, and scraps of doubt, rather than the total belief in me that I needed.

Eventually, Gardner Phillips returned.

'I've spoken with the Assistant DA,' he said. 'They don't have enough evidence to arrest you. It will be difficult to link the gun to you, provided you and Lisa say nothing. We can work on the witnesses who say they saw Lisa: one jogger looks like another in the dark. But they are close. Very close. I've agreed that you'll voluntarily give them your passport, and that I'll surrender you should they want to arrest you. That means I have to know where you are at all times.'

'Did you talk to Lisa's lawyer?'

'Yes. She's taken the Fifth Amendment, which means she has chosen to say nothing to avoid incriminating herself. Fortunately, she will also avoid incriminating you.'

'So what happens now?' I asked.

'The police will try to find more evidence against you. And believe me, they'll try hard. We just have to hope they don't find anything incriminating.'

'They won't.'

Phillips ignored my comment. I had the unpleasant feeling that he thought I had killed Frank. Or perhaps he just didn't care. His indifference was infuriating. What I wanted was for someone to believe that I was innocent. Only Gil had done that so far, and Diane.

Mahoney glowered as I followed Phillips to the entrance of the DA's office. 'You'll be back,' he said.

As I pushed out into the bright sunlight, I was surprised to see a small crowd of journalists waiting for me. Two bulky TV cameras were present.

'Simon, got a minute?'

'Mr Ayot!'

'Did you kill Frank Cook, Mr Ayot?'

'Sir Simon Ayot! Can you answer one question?'

'I don't know who told them about this,' muttered Phillips out of the corner of his mouth. 'Don't talk to any of them.' He pushed through the crowd, repeating the words 'My client has no comment,' until we reached his car. He bundled me in, and in a moment we were away.

He glanced at me as we slowed for a light. 'You did well.'

'So did you.'

He gave me a half-smile. 'Pammy Leyser hasn't given up, neither has Mahoney. I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other.'

'Do you think they'll arrest me?'

'If they find more evidence, most certainly. I didn't convince them that you were innocent. I just convinced them they don't have the evidence to arrest you.'

'And if they do arrest me, do you think I'd get bail?'

'We'd ask for it, of course. But in this case there would be no chance that you'd get it.'

'So I'd have to wait for trial in jail?'

'That's right.'