The Whole Truth

He’s about to get up for more coffee when one of the other DCs calls across at him.

‘Hey, Farrow – must be your lucky day. King just called. He wants you down at Newbury. Pronto.’

* * *

DK: Interview resumed at 16.10. DC Simon Farrow is now present in place of DI Gallagher. So, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’ve listened to everything you’ve said, Fawley, and some of it makes sense, and no doubt some of it can even be corroborated. But there’s no getting round the fact that, right now, everything’s pointing to the same conclusion: some sort of sexual act took place between you and Emma Smith and she ended up dead –

AF: No – that’s not what happened –

DK: You panicked – your career, your marriage, your whole bloody life would be wrecked if this came out. So you wrapped the body in something – plastic or sheeting –

AF: [shaking his head]

DK: And shoved it in the back of your car. Your dark-blue Ford Mondeo.

AF: [emphatically]

No.

DK: The car was seen. You were seen. The neighbours identified a vehicle matching yours, and a man wearing exactly what you say you were wearing, outside Emma Smith’s flat on the evening of the 9th July.

AF: How many more times – I told you – I was there. Of course they saw me –

DK: And then you went home to your wife as if nothing had happened. She remembers you chatting for a couple of minutes in the kitchen, making her that cup of tea. What she didn’t know was that that whole time the dead body of one of her oldest friends was in the boot of your car –

AF: This is insane –

DK: You had a glass of wine, watched the telly, and later, when you could be sure there was no one about, you slipped out in the dark and drove to Walton Well bridge. You knew you had to get rid of that body, and you had to do it fast. And where better than on the railway line – a freight train would pretty much do for the evidence, even assuming anyone bothered to investigate. If you were lucky, it would just be filed under suicide and that would be that. But you couldn’t risk hanging around, could you, in case you were seen, so you just tipped the body over the parapet and legged it. It wasn’t until the following day that you realized what a catastrophic balls-up that was.

PM: For the record, my client categorically denies every single one of these ludicrous allegations.

DK: You dumped the sheeting in a bin somewhere on your way home, and probably did the same with Smith’s phone. Though let’s not forget, the canal’s only a few yards from that bridge –

PM: It’s an ingenious story, Detective Sergeant, but speaking purely practically I find it very hard to believe that my client could have driven from Risinghurst to Walton Well bridge – a distance of, what, five or six miles? – without passing a single ANPR device or CCTV camera.

DK: [passing over a sheet of paper]

In fact, as you can see, there is a perfectly feasible route. Anyone with Google Maps could do it, never mind a police officer of DI Fawley’s rank and experience.

AF: [swallows]

What about CCTV at the bridge?

DK: I’m the one asking the questions here. Not you.

* * *

It’s the first time Gislingham has encountered Marina Fisher in the flesh, though he’s seen the pictures, and had a characteristically measured and objective assessment from Gareth Quinn (‘getting on a bit but definitely shaggable’). Though the minute she comes through the door Gis can see what Quinn was getting at. Fisher definitely has something about her, even in these less than ideal circumstances. He’s heard all about her extravagant dress sense too, but it comes as no surprise to see she’s gone for knee-length and navy today. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d be hard-pressed to decide which was the client and which the lawyer.

Quinn closes the door behind them, and they take their seats, women one side, men the other.

‘We haven’t met, Professor Fisher,’ says Gis. ‘I’m DS Chris Gislingham, and I’ll be running the inquiry for the time being.’

‘What about DI Fawley?’ says the lawyer quickly. ‘I thought this was his case?’

‘DI Fawley has been called away to deal with another matter. But rest assured I’m completely up to speed.’

He looks to Quinn, who starts up the recording.

‘So,’ says Gislingham. ‘Before we start, I need to check you’ve been reminded that you are still under caution. Now, we’ve asked you back this afternoon to talk to you about the incident with your dress.’

Fisher glances briefly at her lawyer. ‘But I’ve already told you – I don’t remember how the gown got ripped.’

‘I should tell you we’ve had a profiler look over our interview with you. An expert in body language. And he’s quite sure that you do, in fact, know exactly how the dress got ripped. There’s only one explanation we can think of as to why you’d lie about that: because it happened during a sexual assault on Caleb Morgan. An assault you’re still saying never took place.’

There’s a silence. Fisher shifts in her seat.