Hit and Run Page 7

  I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure, but he loves you, so he’ll find a way.”

  “If he loved me, he wouldn’t have died. He would have been more careful on his bike. Like he told me to be.” For a seven-year-old, he says some profound things. Dad and I look at each other again. This has got to be one of the worst moments of my life.

  Dad stands and drags a chair towards us. “Sometimes, Jack, accidents happen. I know it feels awful right now, but I promise it won’t always be this bad.”

  “Where’s Granny?”

  A cloud crosses Dad’s face. “I don’t know love. We’ll find her later. But before that, we’re going to get you home. Then we can do anything you want. Any game. Any food. Any TV programme.”

  “I just want Daddy to come home.”

  I can’t say anything to make it better. I slide Jack from my knee to Dad’s as my phone rings. No number. “I’d better get this.”

  “Fiona, it’s Detective Inspector Diane Green speaking. How are you doing today?”

  “Hello.” I glance at Jack, not wanting to say too much in front of him. “As you might expect, really.” I can see Kay watching through the glass in the door. I wish she would leave us alone.

  “Have you time to come down to the station today? We’d like to share our findings so far with you, and to ask you a few questions.”

  “But I answered your questions yesterday.”

  “I know, but we need everything on record. Especially now that we’re looking at a non-accidental situation.”

  That’s one way of putting it. “Just a second.” Holding my hand over the mouthpiece, I turn to Dad. “I have to answer some more questions at the station. Can you drop me off, and take Jack home for me?” I know I should probably go home with them, and at least settle Jack down first, but I want to get this out of the way. Besides, I’m anxious to know what additional information they’ve got. I probably need to keep busy, anyway. If I stop, I might just go to pieces.

  “Yes, that’s fine love.”

  Kay puts her head around the door. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we’ve a class in here shortly. Can I possibly move you into the meeting room?”

  “We’re going in a minute.” I say as I lift my mobile back to my ear. “My dad can drop me off in about a quarter of an hour. Will that be OK?”

  “See you then.” DI Green hangs up without saying goodbye.

  * * *

  There’s speculation that the circumstances might be suspicious.

  But they’ve got nothing concrete.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 13

  It’s like a sauna in the police station.

  “If you’d like to come through.” DI Green pokes her head around the door. “Can I get you a drink?”

  It’s literally seconds after I’ve announced my arrival to the man on the desk. A woman in the waiting room scowls at me as I walk towards the door. She’s probably wondering how I’ve got in before her.

  “A cup of tea, if that’s OK?” I’m taken aback. I bet most people don’t get this treatment here.

  “If I can ask you to wait in the interview room, I won’t be long.”

  “Are you interviewing me?”

  “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

  I take a seat in the bottle green room. It’s even hotter in here than in the reception area. I glance around, noting the lack of a window and the fact that everything is attached to the walls and floors. It’s the first time I’ve been in one of these places since my early twenties when I got locked up for fighting.

  The nausea I have been feeling since I woke up intensifies as I become aware of the globs of chewing gum, stuck to the underside of the table. I hope this will not take long.

  “Thanks for coming in Fiona,” DI Green slides a mug in front of me, then takes a seat. The table is etched with graffiti. She looks towards the door. “Thanks John.”

  “Hello again.” PC John Robinson enters the room and plugs a fan in. “I don’t know if this will make any difference. It will probably just blow all the warm air around.” The door of the tiny room closes behind him.

  “Right Fiona.” DI Green nods towards a machine to her right. “I’m going to hit play on the recording equipment, so everything we discuss is on record.”

  “OK.” This is slightly worrying. I wonder for a moment if I’m under suspicion for what’s happened to Rob and think about asking whether I need a solicitor with me. But I don’t ask. Perhaps they might misconstrue that.

  A long beep sounds and DI Green clears her throat. “My name is Detective Inspector Diane Green of West Yorkshire Police, and my colleague,” she nods towards PC Robinson.

  “Police Constable John Robinson.”

  “Will take notes for the transcript in this interview, which is taking place with…” she looks at me.

  “Fiona Matherson.”

  “Thank you Fiona. If you could just state your full address and date of birth, please?

  “7 Orchard Mews, Otley, Leeds. My date of birth is 4th April 1985.”

  “Thank you. As you know Fiona, we’ve asked you to come in to answer a few more questions in relation to the death of your husband, Robert Matherson. It occurred yesterday at approximately ten thirty am, on the Denton Road between Otley and Ilkley.”

  “Yes.”

  “This interview is being recorded and you are here to help us with our enquiries. You are not under arrest at this stage and are free to leave at any time.”

  “OK.” At this stage. What does that mean? I wince as a trickle of sweat rolls from my armpit and down the side of my body. I can’t remember if I put any deodorant on this morning. I certainly didn’t brush my hair.

  “Some of what I might ask will have been covered to some extent yesterday, but there will also be some new questions around the inquiry so far.”

  Just get on with it, I want to say. This tiny box of a room is one of the most oppressive situations I have ever found myself in. I try to slow my breathing. The prospect of a panic attack is threatening to overwhelm me. I need to get back to Jack. I know he’s with Dad, but with what he’s going through; I need to be there more than I need to be here.

  “Right. We’ll get started. First, just as you did yesterday, can you walk us through your morning before Robert, your husband, left the house?”

  I wipe my palms on my jeans and try again to steady my breathing. Bryony wouldn’t find herself in this physical or mental state with her yoga and her bloody meditation. “Like I’ve already told you, we got up as normal, had breakfast and a coffee, whilst our son was getting ready for school. Rob left at just after nine o’clock to go on a bike ride. He enjoyed getting either out on his bike or onto the golf course. There was nothing out of the ordinary, apart from he’d booked the morning off work.”

  “So he was a fit and active man then?”

  “Yes.” It sounds strange using the word was. Rob being talked about in the past tense. I don’t think I will ever get used to it.

  “Was everything alright between the two of you, before he left the house?”

  “Between Rob and me? Yes, I guess so. My mother had stayed the previous night, which always causes an atmosphere but other than that…”

  “Why does your mother staying cause an atmosphere?”

  God. I can’t believe they’ve jumped on that. “I don’t know. Just mother-in-law stuff, you know. It’s always been fractious.”

  “Right.” DI Green taps her pen on the side of her forehead as though deep in thought. She’s acting differently towards me than yesterday. More brisk. Not as sympathetic. “We might come back to that. Are you absolutely sure Robert left the house just after nine? Not any later?”

  It’s strange hearing Rob being called Robert. I had heard his father call him it, but his mother had died from cancer before we got together. If there is a heaven, I wonder if they’re all together again. Perhaps my grandma is with them too. It’s the same whimsical thinking Jack might have. “Yes. Definitely.
He left just after my mum set off. She was taking my son to school.”

  “And how old is your son again?”

  “Seven. This has all hit him very hard.”

  I see a note of sympathy in her face now. “I bet it has. You, on the other hand, seem to be coping really well.”

  “Do I?” What does she mean by that? “I’m just taking it one step at a time. I could do without being here though, to be honest.” I take a sip of the lukewarm tea. It’s disgusting. I’m pig sick of tea. “Could we speed things up? I need to get back to my son. He’s been sent home from school and my Dad is looking after him until I get back.”

  “Fair enough. We’ll be as quick as we can.” She looks down at her notes. “The accident occurred some seven miles away from your home in Otley. How long do you imagine it would have taken your husband to cover that distance?”

  “Not long. Twenty minutes maybe?”

  “Have you any idea, where he might have got to between leaving home at nine, and getting to Denton Road at ten thirty? Clearly, around an hour and ten minutes is unaccounted for. Did he mention about going anywhere else first?”

  “No. All I knew is that he was going for a bike ride.” Bryony, yet again, pops into my head. If she had nothing to hide, she would have spoken to me or replied to the message I sent. I’m going to have to say something to DI Green, but to verbalise the words out loud admits something that I don’t want to acknowledge. That they were carrying on with each other.

  “You look unsure.” DI Green tilts her head to one side like a dog waiting for a treat.

  “It’s just that…” I might as well say it. “He had a few missed calls from his ex yesterday. I’ve tried ringing and messaging her, but she’s ignoring me.”

  “Do you mean Bryony?” PC Robinson speaks now.

  DI Green gives him a look I can’t read. Maybe he should not have asked that.

  “Yes. Have you been in touch with her?”

  “We have,” DI Green replies. “We saw the missed calls in his phone log. But she claims not to have seen him yesterday morning. Obviously, our enquiries are ongoing – we’re still waiting on CCTV results as well.”

  She looks uncomfortable. Whatever she knows about them having an affair, if they were, she probably can’t tell me. I know where Bryony lives, so I must pay her a personal visit. I’ll make her tell me the truth. I have to know.

  “I’ve also had his ex-wife on the phone.” DI Green places her pen gently on the notepad in front of her. “Several times in fact. What were relations like there?”

  “Not good. Rob had apparently let his daughter down at the weekend when he should have picked her up.”

  “Do you know any details about this? Why he’d let her down?”

  “I didn’t know of the arrangement.” I can feel the heat rising in my face. “I seem to have been the last to know anything lately. And I found out earlier that he hasn’t been at work for the last month.”

  “Really? Where’s his work?”

  “Bracken Furniture. He was the Director of Finance.”

  “And why hasn’t he been at work?” She’s frowning.

  “I’ve absolutely no idea. He’s been leaving each morning as though he’s going to work, so why he’s been lying to me, I’ve no idea. The MD, Phillip Bracken, won’t tell me a thing. Maybe he’ll tell you.”

  PC Johnson is writing this down. “We’ll get in touch with him. That could be useful.”

  “There’s apparently some sort of investigation in process. It appears Rob was in trouble.”

  “Thank you.” DI Green offers me a hint of a smile. She’s possibly pleased at being given something to follow up. “Back to his, Robert’s ex-wife, Denise isn’t it? What do you think are the chances that he might have gone to see her yesterday morning?”

  “Well, normally, he would avoid her as much as possible. Apart from when he is picking his daughter up of course. I don’t know. I doubt he would have been there. Simone would have been at school, so I don’t see any reason for him going round.”

  “I know we’ve already asked you this, but you have had more time to think about it since we spoke - are you aware of any enemies that Robert might have had? Someone that might be out to get him?”

  “Nobody that would want to knock him flying off his bike. Nobody that would have wanted to kill him. You mentioned Bryony before – have you found anything out about her from his phone or computer?”

  “I can’t really go into it at this stage, but I can say that we have found one or two interesting things on his computer.”

  “Such as?”

  “We will let you know as and when we’ve followed things up. One person of interest is listed in your husband’s phone as JT? Any ideas?”

  “JT? No. I can’t think of who that would be.”

  “A financial connection perhaps? There’s a suggestion of money being owed.”

  “By whom?”

  “We’re looking into it. If you come up with any ideas on who JT could be, let us know straightaway.”

  “I will.” JT. Maybe there was another woman as well as Bryony. I stare down at my hands.

  “There’s also a couple of recent texts sent by you, that we would like to ask you about.”

  “By me? Which ones?” Rob and I rarely texted each other, apart from to say get some bread on the way home, or I’ve been held up. Not like we did in the early days. I used to live for his messages. My stomach would flip as one came through.

  “We’re particularly interested in the money-related messages.” DI Green runs a finger down her page. “There’s three over the last month.”

  “Go on.”

  “Ten days ago. What about this money then?????” She looks at me.

  “Oh, that. It was to do with a shares opportunity he was investing in. I put some money in to increase his investment.”

  “What shares opportunity was that?”

  “I don’t know too much about it. Much of this stuff goes straight over my head.” I’m not lying. It really does. I know one investment was to do with property - a new shopping complex in Harrogate.”

  “What about the other one?” She does that thing of tilting her head to one side whilst waiting for an answer. It’s quite irritating.

  “It was to do with some Chinese company or other, something about this cryptocurrency that everyone is jumping on. I wish I’d taken more notice of what he was saying now.”

  “So that would explain the other two texts then. Have you paid it in yet? This could change our life. One month ago.”

  “I think so.”

  “What was your own personal investment?”

  “I can’t remember exactly. About thirty thousand.”

  “That’s quite a sum to sink into something you know nothing about.”

  “Rob reckoned I’d get that back ten times over. And since I’d nearly spent the inheritance I received from my grandmother when she died in 2011, I thought it was worth a go to get some money back.”

  “Thirty thousand is more than just a go.” PC Robinson raises an eyebrow.

  “Rob knew his stuff as far as the stock market was concerned. He had some sort of adviser or broker as well.” I take another sip of tea and shudder at how awful it tastes. “He handled everything to do with the money. He knew what he was doing.”

  “It sounds like there was a lot of trust between you both.”

  I’m not sure if DI Green’s words are a question or a statement, so I don’t reply. I definitely trusted Rob with money. Though with other matters, I definitely did not.

  “What do you know about this adviser, or broker?”

  “Nothing really. To be honest, I would glaze over when he talked about it all. I tried to be interested but didn’t really understand it all.”

  “He must have mentioned the name of his broker at some point. You must have some idea of where we could find him?” PC Robinson’s pen is poised over his notebook. “Or can you find out?”

  “Or her.” DI
Green says.

  “No. But there must be something in his messages. You’ve got access to those.”

  “You might not have been interested in his financial dealings and connections. But you were interested in the ultimate outcome?”

  “Of course.”

  “The subsequent text about the top of the range Audi and the Maldives holiday. Was this related to this expected windfall then?”

  “Yes. But what I don’t understand is what all this has got to do with him getting killed yesterday?”

  “We’re just putting the pieces together at the moment.” She twists the wedding ring around on her finger. “We got minimal forensic evidence from the scene.”

  “What about CCTV?” Although I know there won’t be any around there. The road where Rob died is in the back of beyond.

  “My team are doing some house-to-house. We’re hoping for dashcam and maybe some neighbouring farm footage.”

  I wring my clammy hands together. If I don’t get out of here soon, I may well pass out. “Is that everything now? I need to be getting back to my son.”

  “Right you are.” DI Green closes her notebook. “We’ll come back to you if we have any more questions. We also must have a word with your mother. Can you leave us her number?”

  “My mother? Why do you want to speak to her?”

  “Because along with yourself, and your son, she is one of the last people to have seen your husband before he died. It’s procedure. We need to rule her out of our investigation. And your neighbour who was taking her bin out.”

  Fair enough. I take the page she slides towards me and write Mum’s number down. I scroll through my phone to find Christina’s number.

  “Just one last thing Fiona.”

  “Yes.” I’m taken aback at the sharp edge her voice has suddenly taken.

  “Where were you at ten thirty yesterday morning?”

  * * *

  So far. So good.

  It was always going to be a gamble. All of it.

  Either the police are keeping their cards close to their chests,

  or they’ve nothing to investigate.

  Chapter 14