Not Dead Enough

85

For some officers, a career in the police force meant a constant, not always predictable series of changes. You could be moved from a uniform beat patrol one day to the Local Support Unit the next, executing arrest warrants and dealing with riots, then into plain clothes as a covert drug squad officer, then out at Gatwick airport, seconded to baggage crimes. Others found their niche, the way a snake finds its hole, or a squid finds its crevice in a sea wall, and stayed put in it all the way through their thirty years to retirement and, the bait on the hook, a very decent pension, thank you.

Detective Sergeant Jane Paxton was one of those who had found their niche and stayed in it. She was a large, plain-faced woman of forty, with lank brown hair and a brusque, no nonsense attitude, who worked as an interview coordinator.

She had endeared herself to the entire female staff of Sussex House some years ago, legend had it, when she slapped Norman Potting on the face. Depending on who you talked to, there were half a dozen versions of what had happened. The one that Grace had heard was that Potting had put his hand on her thigh under the table during a meeting with the previous Chief Constable.

DS Paxton was now sitting opposite Grace at the round table in his office, wearing a loose-fitting blouse so voluminous it gave the appearance that her head was sticking out of the top of a tent. On either side of her sat Nick Nicholl and Glenn Branson. DS Paxton was drinking water. The three men were drinking coffee. It was eight thirty on Monday evening and all four of them knew they would be lucky to get out of the CID headquarters before midnight.

While Brian Bishop was alone, contemplating his navel in his custody block cell, awaiting the arrival of his solicitor, the team were creating their interview policy for Bishop’s interrogation. Branson and Nicholl, who had both received specialist training in interviewing techniques, would carry out the series of interviews. Roy Grace and Jane Paxton would watch from an observation room.

The textbook procedure was to put suspects through three consecutive, strategized interviews within the twenty-four-hour period they could hold the person in custody. The first, which would take place tonight after the suspect’s solicitor had arrived, would be mostly Bishop talking, setting down his facts. He would be encouraged to establish his story, his family background, and give an account of his movements during the twenty-four hours immediately before his wife’s death.

In the second interview, which would take place in the morning, there would be specific questions on all that Bishop had said in the first interview. The tone would be kept courteous and constructive, while all the time the officers would be making notes of any inconsistencies. It was not until the third interview, which would follow later in the day, after Bishop and the team had had a break – and the team had had a chance to assess everything – that the gloves would come off. In that third interview, any inconsistencies or suspected lies would be challenged.

The hope was that by the end of that third interview, information extracted from the suspect, combined with whatever evidence they already had – such as the DNA in this instance – would give them enough for one of the Crown Prosecution solicitors, who operated from an office in the CPS headquarters in Dyke Road, to agree there was sufficient evidence to potentially secure a conviction, and to sanction the suspect being formally charged.

Key to any successful interrogation were the questions that needed to be asked and, very importantly, what information should be held back. They were all agreed that the sighting of Bishop’s Bentley heading towards Brighton shortly before Mrs Bishop’s murder should be held back to the third interview.

Then they debated for some time when to raise the question of the life insurance policy. Grace pointed out that since Bishop had already been questioned about this, and had denied all knowledge of the policy, it should be revisited as part of the first interview, to see if he had changed his story at all.

It was agreed to spring the gas mask on him during the second interview. Jane Paxton suggested it be raised as part of a series of specific questions about Bishop’s sex life with his wife. The others agreed.

Grace asked Branson and Nicholl for a detailed account of how Bishop had behaved under arrest and his attitude generally.

‘He’s a bit of a cold fish,’ Branson said. ‘I couldn’t believe it when me and Nick went to break the news about his wife being found dead.’ He looked for confirmation to Nicholl, who nodded. Branson continued, ‘Yeah, OK, he did the grief bit to start with, but do you know what he said next?’ He looked at Grace, then Paxton. ‘He said, “This is really not a good time – I’m halfway through a golf tournament.” Can you believe it?’

‘If anything, I think that comment works the other way,’ Grace replied.

All of them looked at the Detective Superintendent with interest.

‘What other way?’ Branson asked.

‘From what I’ve seen of him, Bishop’s too smart to have made such a callous, potentially incriminating remark,’ Grace replied. ‘It’s more the kind of remark of someone who is totally bewildered. Which would indicate the shock was genuine.’

‘You’re saying you think he’s innocent?’ Jane Paxton asked.

‘No, what I’m saying is we have some strong evidence against this man. Let’s stick to the hard facts for the moment. A comment like that could be useful during the trial – the prosecuting counsel could use it to help sway the jury against Bishop. We should keep it back, not bring it up in any of the interviews, because he’ll probably say you’ve misunderstood him, and then you’ve blown its surprise value.’

‘Good point,’ Nick Nicholl said, and yawned, apologizing immediately.

Grace knew it was harsh, keeping Nicholl here until late, with his young baby at home, but that wasn’t his problem. Nicholl was exactly the right soft-man foil to Branson’s hard man for this series of interviews.

‘The next item on my list,’ Jane Paxton said, ‘is Bishop’s relationship with Sophie Harrington.’

‘Definitely the third interview,’ Grace said.

‘No, I think we should bring it up in the second,’ Branson replied. ‘We could ask him again whether he knew her and if so what their relationship was. It would give us a good steer on how truthful he is, whether or not he still denies knowing her. Right?’

‘It’s a good point,’ Grace said. ‘But he’ll know that we’re analysing all his phone calls, so he’d have to be pretty stupid to deny knowing her.’

‘Yeah, but I think it’s worth asking him in the second interview,’ Branson persisted. ‘My reasoning is this: we got that witness opposite Sophie Harrington’s house, who has positively identified him at around the time of her murder. Depending on how he answers the phone question in the second interview, we can spring that on him in the third.’

Grace looked at Jane Paxton. She was nodding in agreement.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Good plan.’

His internal phone rang. He stepped away from the table and over to his desk to answer it. ‘Roy Grace?’ He listened for some moments, then said, ‘Fine. OK. Thanks. We’ll be ready.’

He replaced the phone and joined them back at the round table. ‘Bishop’s solicitor will be here at half past nine.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Forty-five minutes.’

‘Who is it?’ Jane Paxton asked.

‘Leighton Lloyd.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Branson shrugged. ‘Who else?’

They turned their focus on exactly what Lloyd would be told and what at this stage would be held back from him. Then the four of them left the building and walked briskly to the ASDA supermarket, taking a short cut through the bushes at the back, to grab a quick sandwich for their evening meal.

Ten minutes later they crossed back over the road. Branson and Nicholl walked through the side gate and up towards the custody block. Inside, they were taken to an interview room, where they would outline to Bishop’s solicitor the background, and why Bishop had been arrested, without Bishop present. Then he would be brought into the room, too, for an interview.

Jane Paxton and Grace went back to their respective offices, Grace intending to use the next half-hour to catch up on some emails. He sat at his desk and rang Cleo, and discovered she was still at work at the mortuary.

‘Hi, you!’ she said, sounding pleased to hear from him.

‘How are you?’ he said.

‘I’m shattered. But it’s nice that you rang.’

‘I like your voice when you’re tired. It goes sort of croaky – it’s sweet!’

‘You wouldn’t think that if you saw me. I feel about a hundred. And you? What’s happening?’

He filled her in briefly, telling her he wouldn’t be finished until around midnight, and asked if she’d like him to come over then.

‘I would love to see you, my darling, but as soon as I’m out of here I’m going to fall into a bath and then crash. Why don’t you come over tomorrow?’

‘Sounds like a plan!’

‘Are you eating properly?’ she asked, motherly suddenly. ‘Have you had some dinner?’

‘Sort of,’ he said evasively.

‘An ASDA pot noodle?’

‘A sandwich,’ he confessed.

‘That’s not healthy! What kind of a sandwich?’

‘Beef.’

‘God, Roy. Fatty meat and carbohydrate!’

‘It had a lettuce leaf in it.’

‘Oh, well, that’s all right then,’ she said sarcastically. Then her voice changed. ‘Can you hang on a sec? There’s someone outside the building.’ She sounded worried.

‘Who’s there with you?’

‘No one, I’m on my own. Poor Darren and Walter came in at four this morning. I sent them home a little while ago. I’m just going to check this out, OK? Call you back in a sec.’

The phone went dead.