The truth, p.2
The Truth, page 2
It was the last phrase that probably did it – at any rate, Gracie and Angus were now spending the day with Susan. One of the women had brought them over but hadn’t stayed around. Once that was sorted, Charlie had come here, back to Central where he’d been a copper for nigh on thirty years. Thirty bloody years.
He closed his eyes and tried to think. The DI had said they’d brought female officers for that contingency – all planned out then. They knew well beforehand there were children in the house. Had they been watching the place? For how long? God, what a nightmare… Anthony had never been in any bother, even at school. He’d never needed to play up, he’d always been successful. Fraudulent evasion of duty? On what, for heaven’s sake? Fags? Booze? This had to be some mistake but he needed to see his son and look him in the eye, because decent people can do the wrong thing. You see that often enough in the job. He’d know as soon as he could set eyes on his boy, he was certain of that.
‘I’m ’ere for my daughter. What about you?’
The woman, the only other occupant of the waiting area, had been sitting there when he arrived. Charlie hadn’t taken any notice of her, hadn’t even acknowledged her – too preoccupied with his own problems. He didn’t want to talk but wasn’t prepared to ignore her either, now she had spoken to him. After a few seconds he said, ‘What happened? What did she do?’
‘Got ’erself properly hammered last night. Out with her mates. They were all the same but it was Bianca who ’ad to mouth off at the coppers, who was only trying to get them ’ome off the streets. Give ’em their due, they even gave a couple of ’em lifts ’ome. But like I say, Bianca ’ad to start givin’ it all this’ – making the talking gesture with her fingers and thumb – ‘and then according to Charmaine she shoves one of the officers, so they bundle ’er into the van and that’s that. She spends the night in the cells.’
Charlie nodded and thought, when I was the other side of that wall I must have done a thousand of these. He didn’t have a log book to look in but he didn’t need one – the woman would be from the east side of the town, from The Towers or the social housing estates beyond. There was animal hair on her ill-fitting black trousers where a cat or a small dog had been sitting on her lap, and the pink puffer jacket had a stain on the front and a tear in the left sleeve.
She said, ‘In my day…’ and shook her head like a bad actress in a soap opera. Charlie thought, in your day things were not so different. Bianca is only spending her inheritance, fulfilling her destiny, and then his stomach churned once more as he remembered his own son’s predicament. Anthony might be in the cell next to this woman’s daughter.
She went on, ‘I mean, I can understand it on a Friday or a Saturday night. But on a bleedin’ Sunday? They don’t seem to ’ave no sense of respect no more. ’S’every bloody night of the week.’
Beyond the door that led into the station, he heard the sound of another door opening. A look at his watch – a retirement gift – told him he’d been left in here for forty five minutes now but you couldn’t ask anyone what was going on nowadays. You had to keep pressing the button on the wall, as if you were in a cell yourself.
‘So, who you ’ere for then?’
Charlie couldn’t bring himself to say ‘My son’. He thought of ways around it and eventually managed, ‘Yes, the same. Family.’
Then he was grateful the woman had enough sense not to pry, but she couldn’t sit in silence now they had begun to talk. Charlie had always taken a certain pride in the fact that he’d got where he did in life without being what he called an educated man, but he knew the first circle of hell was being in limbo – that was bad enough without this woman being sent to add to his misery.
She said, ‘I’m just worried they’re goin’ to charge her. She’ll ’ave a record then.’
Charlie said, despite himself, ‘How old is she?’
‘Seventeen.’
He said, ‘They won’t charge her. Not unless she’s hurt someone or there was a weapon involved. She’ll get a warning.’
‘Oh. Right. Well that’s good…’
She frowned, folded her arms and took another look at her new acquaintance. Charlie caught a whiff of cat and stale cigarette smoke. His stomach heaved a little.
‘So. You done this before, then.’
The sound of a coded lock being pressed, a bleep and the door opened at last. This could have been someone to deal with the woman – he would have preferred that, to get her out of the way – but of course it wasn’t. A sharply-suited man whom Charlie didn’t recognise stepped into the waiting room and said without ceremony, ‘Someone for Anthony Hills?’
There was no need for that, to call the name out loud, making it so public. As Charlie got up out of the seat, he felt the woman’s eyes all over the pair of them. Serious Crimes something Emma had said, and that’s where this youngster was from – he was no older than Anthony, might not even be that old.
‘And you are, sir?’
‘Charles Hills. Anthony Hills’ father.’
‘How can I help you this morning, Mr Hills?’
Training manual stuff, a junior officer sent down after a suitable delay. Charlie said, ‘Have you started interviewing him yet?’
‘Mr Hills is being interviewed this morning.’
If it had been someone Charlie knew it would have been excruciating, obviously, but he’d have got somewhere pretty quickly. This detective constable didn’t know him from Adam.
Charlie said, ‘I meant, have you begun interviewing my son?’
‘Yes, we have, sir.’
‘Who’s doing it?’
The young man was closely shaved, had been up early this morning, and Charlie was near enough to pick up the scent of his aftershave – it was having about the same effect as the woman’s eau du chat with essence of Benson and Hedges.
‘I cannot divulge the names of any officers involved in the investigation, sir.’
‘I meant,’ Charlie said, with exaggerated patience, ‘is it Serious Crimes or Revenue and Customs? My daughter-in-law said both were at the house when you made the arrest.’
Seconds passed while the officer considered whether this could be divulged, and then, ‘The investigation is being conducted under the auspices of the Regional Serious Crimes Unit.’
‘I take it you mean they’re leading on it, then.’
‘That is correct, sir.’
‘And that’s who’s interviewing my son?’ This brought no confirmation but no contradiction either. Charlie said, ‘Who is in with him?’
‘As I said, sir, I am unable to divul-’
‘Does he have some legal representation? He’s not on his own, is he?’
As a copper, it’s the first thing you tell your kids – it better not ever happen to you, but if it does, you get some advice before you say anything. He’d told Anthony that often enough when he was a youngster.
‘Yes, Mr Hills, your son has consulted with a duty solicitor.’
Charlie took a breath, knowing he’d get further if he didn’t push too hard.
‘Thank you. Who is it, please?’
The calculations were being made all over again.
Charlie said, ‘Son, it’s not pertinent to the investigation. I’ll be arranging some proper representation today and it would help if I know which firm’s already been in there, that’s all.’
Something he’d just said had produced a subtle shift in attitude. The detective said, ‘I’m not based here, Mr Hills, but I can find out for you. If you’ll wait here, please,’ and then he was back through the door, the electronic lock clicking into place again.
He couldn’t ignore the woman’s presence for long. When he caught her eye, she said, ‘Gawd. You told ’im. Don’t fancy hangin’ around to get my daughter out, do you mate?’
Charlie Hills didn’t answer. He had been calm with the Serious Crimes officer but was paying for it now, with a tight chest and a pulse beating too hard in the side of his neck. In the panic this morning, he’d forgotten to take the tablet for his blood pressure.
The detective’s return was mercifully quick. The door buzzed open, and he had a slip of paper in his hand. He said, ‘Your son has spoken with a Mr Harold Ward. Mr Ward is also in the interview with him,’ and then he handed over the piece of paper.
Harold Ward. Charlie didn’t know him personally, but he knew the detectives at Lake Central had never had a problem with him. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Harold Ward had been around for years and must know the ropes. Charlie thanked the detective and said could he ask one more thing – a thing he needed to know before he spoke to a solicitor himself. This fraudulent evasion thing. That’s smuggling, isn’t it?
The detective made a gesture with his shoulders which didn’t commit him but which didn’t deny what had been suggested. Charlie said, ‘It would help if I knew what, if I had some idea. Are we talking cigarettes? Alcohol?’
This time, nothing again.
‘Or the boat itself. He only picked it up at the weekend. I was wondering whether it wasn’t registered or something. Or if it was stolen. Perhaps someone thought he was smuggling boats…’
It was a half-hearted attempt at something humorous. Maybe it was pitiful. Maybe the young man felt sorry for him. Or maybe the detective just couldn’t resist saying it, for reasons of his own.
‘When the vessel was seized last night, a quantity of a Class A drug was discovered.’
Three, four, five seconds.
‘A Class A drug? What the-’
‘Cocaine. A very large quantity, sir. Is there anything else I can assist you with, Mr Hills?’
When the door that led into a world of which he had once been a living, breathing part had closed for the second time, Charlie Hills stared at it, dumbfounded. And when he turned around, the woman was staring at him, her mouth hanging a little open, in awe, as if he was crime royalty.
Chapter Three
‘America?’
Gordon Fraser of Fraser and Metcalfe, Solicitors and Notaries, nodded and said, ‘New York. Ms Archer has a brother living there. She’s making a family visit.’
Charlie Hills seemed to wince a little at the news, as if he’d taken too many body blows over the past two days, and said, ‘When will she be back, if you don’t mind me asking?’
Fraser leaned towards his desk and touched a button on the keyboard – he was a man of the same age as Charlie himself but seemed fully conversant with all the technology on his desk. The white shirt and grey silk tie were expensive – Charlie had glimpsed him through an open door before they were introduced, and he’d been in shirtsleeves then but the suit jacket had been put on before meeting a potential client, which Charlie thought was a good sign. He was pretty desperate for good omens, it has to be said.
‘A few more days, I’m afraid. Was there a particular reason you wanted to speak to Christine, Mr Hills?’
Charlie could hardly give the full and honest answer – because my old mates down at Kings Lake Central police station think she’s a right pain in the backside. He said, ‘She was recommended.’
Fraser wasn’t displeased with that, of course. He said, ‘Christine is one of our most experienced people in criminal defence matters. We do have others. I suggest that…’
The man in front of him gave another twitch of annoyance. Fraser paused and thought. It’s natural when people come into contact with this sort of thing for the first time. Fear, panic, the imagination running too far ahead and going off the rails. And this was, from the little he had gleaned, a serious matter.
Fraser said then, ‘Mr Hills. The immediate crisis is past. We – or rather you, because you are in control of this at all times – do not need to go down to the station and interfere. Indeed, it would be unwise to do so in person. Harold Ward is a competent man, I can vouch for that. He will have given your son the proper advice. You are quite right to be-’
‘I don’t know. Anthony should have been out this morning – twenty four hours. Now they’re keeping him for another twelve. That doesn’t look too competent, does it?’
Fraser said, ‘From what you have told me, I doubt whether another solicitor would have achieved a different result. By their very nature, such investigations are complex. As you know, the additional twelve hours can be authorised by a senior police officer. After that, they must put the matter in front of a magistrate, and that’s where your choice of legal representation can make a difference.’
“Your choice” Fraser had said, meaning Charlie’s – it was down to him. We like to imagine the law is a clear set of rules and processes, that it is impartial and that the same fair result will ensue whoever is involved in its application, but that’s a fantasy, and Charlie Hills knew it. He’d never been an investigations officer but he’d seen it up close for long enough, and he’d heard the stories. The people you choose, the people you pay to be on your side, can be the difference between being found guilty and not guilty, between imprisonment and freedom.
He watched as the solicitor wrote a note on the pad in front of him. Then Fraser said, ‘Your son was under arrest by eight o’clock yesterday morning. The twelve hour extension runs, therefore, from eight o’clock this morning. Before eight this evening, the police must either release him without charge, charge him and then release him on police bail or get a magistrate’s consent to keep him in custody for further questioning. I appreciate you know all this, Mr Hills, but it’s best to be absolutely clear. It’s now ten o’clock – there are ten hours remaining. If you wish, I can put someone onto the matter now, and have them speaking to a custody officer within the hour.’
Charlie said, ‘Who? Could you do it yourself?’
‘No, Mr Hills. That’s not because it’s beneath me. I have a supervisory role in at least a dozen other cases. But I’ve taken note of what you said about Ms Archer. I’d like to put you in touch with a young lady named Aingeal Cater.’
‘Angel?’
‘Yes. It’s an Irish name, like its owner. She prefers to be called Annie.’
Charlie was suspicious of anything that might affect the outcome. He said, ‘Young? How young? I don’t need someone on work experience.’
Fraser smiled and said, ‘Funnily enough, Annie did part of her training here. She was mentored by Christine Archer. When she qualified, we tried to recruit her and she turned us down. She did three years with a firm in Leeds but kept in touch with us. Last year we approached her again and she relented. She is a very capable young lawyer, interested in criminal work. You understand, Mr Hills, that when I say “criminal work” there is no suggestion that your son…’
Charlie nodded – there would be worse than that to come over the next weeks and months. He said, ‘She could get onto it this morning?’
Fraser said, ‘Absolutely. Our first priority is to get Anthony home tonight. I will also ensure that when she returns, Christine Archer will have oversight of the case. In the end, you’ll have exactly what you wanted in the first place. If you’re happy with that, I can get Annie to meet with us here in’ – glancing at his watch – ‘fifteen minutes?’
That’s how you close a deal, thought Charlie. Not that there had ever been any doubt he’d go with this firm. He didn’t have the luxury of time or much of a choice. A look at his own watch told him that now there were nine hours and forty-five minutes to go.
Charlie Hills told the story again, and again the salient points, the facts of the matter, were written onto a notepad – he thought time could have been saved if Fraser had given her the pad he had used earlier, but it’s a part of the process, the re-telling. The young woman looked about twenty. He knew she had to be some years older to have qualified as a solicitor, but even so, she seemed to his eyes too young to be handling serious matters like this.
She said, ‘And as far as you’re aware, Mr Hills, your son has no criminal record?’
He said, ‘He doesn’t. I think I’d know!’
It came out too loud and a little aggressive. The girl paused, and Fraser said, ‘You might be surprised at what family members don’t know about each other sometimes, Mr Hills. But in your case, well, it’s a little different, obviously.’ And then to Annie Cater, Fraser said, ‘Mr Hills was a police officer at Lake Central station until about a year ago.’
She noted that down, and if Charlie had intimidated her, it wasn’t showing – her next question was, ‘And as far as you know, he doesn’t have a history of drug use?’
Charlie said, ‘Of course not. He’s a successful businessman, a sales director.’
She asked for details of the company, and as she wrote that down said, without looking up at either man, ‘Cocaine is usually the drug of choice for professional people…’
Charlie caught Fraser’s eye. His look said something like, is this girl for real? If she’s on our side, I’m not looking forward to meeting the people who are against us.
‘… so, it’s good that he, your son Anthony, has no previous, but in another way… We need to be sure what the police are saying about street value. If your son has no personal connection, no previous connection, to the drugs business, and then finds himself linked to a large quantity of cocaine, it suggests to the police that other people are involved.’
Charlie Hills said drily, ‘I’d say that’s likely to be the case.’
Fraser stepped in again and said, ‘What Annie is getting at is this: if it’s plain that Anthony had no obvious means of obtaining a large quantity – and we still don’t know how much they’re talking about – but a large amount of cocaine has appeared, apparently in his possession, then somebody else must have obtained it.’
Charlie looked from one solicitor to the other. Perhaps they could read on his face what he was thinking – there wasn’t as much to this legal lark as people liked to make out. Of course it was someone else if it wasn’t Anthony – they’d put it onto the bloody boat and he didn’t know it was there, had no sodding idea. He explained this to them in more or less those words.
