The Whole Truth

‘OK,’ she says at last. ‘You’re right. I think I do know how the gown got damaged.’

She takes a breath, reaches for her water.

‘I didn’t notice the rip when I first got up the following morning – I just wanted a cup of tea and some aspirin. But when I went back up to Tobin’s bedroom he was on the floor playing with some sequins – red sequins. He said he wanted them to stick on his drawing.’

‘You’re saying your son tore your dress – to get the sequins?’

She flushes a little. ‘While I was downstairs, yes, I think so.’

‘Has he done that sort of thing before?’

Her flush deepens. ‘He likes shiny things. And he probably didn’t realize how hard it would be to get them off.’ She shrugs. ‘Like I said before, children don’t always know their own strength.’

‘Did you ask him about it?’

She looks away, nods.

‘And what did he say?’

Her gaze drops. ‘He denied it. Said he never touched the gown. That he found the sequins on the kitchen floor.’

‘But you didn’t believe him.’

She still isn’t looking at them. ‘There weren’t any sequins on the kitchen floor.’

‘Have you asked him again – since then?’

She shrugs. ‘He’s still denying it.’ She looks from one officer to the other. ‘Oh, come on – he’s not the first child to tell a fib because they’ve done something naughty.’

Gis nods slowly – he’s the father of a two-year-old. He knows.

But Quinn’s still pushing. ‘So why didn’t you tell us all this right from the start?’

She glances at him, then looks away. ‘It was a family matter.’

Her face is closed; an ice sheet has come down.

* * *

‘Thanks for helping with this, Bryan,’ says Gallagher. ‘I just wanted another pair of eyes. Unofficially.’

Gow looks up at her from the video screen. ‘No problem. I was in Kidlington today anyway.’

He looks back at the screen again, then presses pause, a small frown creasing his brow.

‘Well?’ says Gallagher. Her arms are folded. She looks restless, edgy.

He pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘It’s a first, certainly. Watching one of these things to decide whether it’s a police officer who’s lying.’

‘He’s a suspect. Just like any other.’

Gow gives her a pointed look, then makes a note on his pad.

‘Well, is he?’ she says, a little impatiently now. ‘Lying?’

He glances up at her. ‘I could see no sign of it. I’ll take the footage back with me and review it again, but there’s nothing jumping out right now. He’s under acute strain, which is hardly a surprise, but when he denies having committed the crime his words and body language show no divergence. None at all.’

‘Dave King would no doubt say that if anyone knew how to do that, it’d be Adam Fawley.’

Gow raises an eyebrow. ‘No doubt.’

Gallagher gets the message. ‘Look, I know King can be a bit – unsubtle – but he’s a good copper. He has good instincts.’

Gow is writing again. ‘If you say so.’

* * *

‘So, Professor Fisher, just to be clear, and for the purposes of the recording, you’re now modifying your statement to the effect that you do, in fact, know how your dress was damaged.’

Fisher heaves a loud sigh. ‘Yes.’

Quinn nods. ‘So what about the previous night, with Morgan? Is there anything about that you haven’t told us?’

‘We could do without the sarcasm, Sergeant,’ says the lawyer.

‘The answer to your question,’ says Fisher, ‘is no. I remember no more about that than I told you before.’

‘Really?’ says Quinn, openly sardonic.

She flashes him a look. ‘Really.’

She takes a breath and looks away, and Gis is suddenly aware that she’s blinking back tears.

The lawyer looks at her with concern and passes her a glass of water. Then she turns to Gislingham. ‘Look, Sergeant, this whole thing is taking the most enormous toll on Marina – she’s not sleeping – her son is having nightmares –’

‘I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to do about that –’

‘What I’m asking you to do is drop this preposterous case. The whole thing is absurd – it’s political correctness gone psychotic.’

Gis opens his mouth to reply, but she’s not finished. ‘I mean, look at her, for God’s sake. Do you seriously think she could possibly have perpetrated a sexual assault on a six-foot rugby player against his will?’

She stares at Gis and then at Quinn. ‘Well, do you?’

* * *

You don’t often see small children in a police station, so when Somer slips out to buy something for dinner that night it’s hard to miss Tobin Fisher, sitting quietly alone on a chair by the main door. She looks around, worried that no one’s with him, then notices one of the female PCs is at the drinks machine, collecting a can of Fanta.

Somer hesitates, then makes her way towards him. He has a colour-by-numbers book on his lap, and even though she’s now standing in his light, even though there are people passing and noise and phones going, he doesn’t look up. She moves round and takes a seat next to him.

‘What are you drawing, Tobin?’

* * *

Quinn and Gislingham watch as a uniformed PC shows Fisher and Kennedy out. The lawyer puts an arm around Fisher’s shoulders as they reach the lift, and she leans in, almost staggering.

‘Was Caleb Morgan that convincing?’ asks Gis.