Cross was in his office studying the CCTV footage of Cotterell taken from Moreton’s security camera when Warner returned with a triumphant swagger through the open area where some of the junior detectives even clapped.
‘He’s being charged,’ he said as he slumped into his chair with an air of great satisfaction, leaving the door wide open in the certain knowledge it annoyed Cross.
‘So I understand,’ replied Cross.
‘Is that all you have to say?’
Cross thought about this for a moment.
‘No, it isn’t. But I don’t see any purpose in saying any more, as it will only result in conflict which, on the whole, I try to avoid.’
Warner was about to reply when Carson appeared at the door.
‘Congratulations, Bobby. Quite the result.’
‘Thank you.’
Carson turned to Cross.
‘Quite something, eh, George?’ he said.
‘That would depend on your definition of “something”,’ replied Cross.
Carson realised immediately all was not well with Cross, but judged it best left alone in the moment of victory.
‘Spit it out, DS Cross,’ Warner said, unable to resist the lure of a good fight, and one he was bound to win.
‘Spit out what? I have nothing in my mouth,’ Cross replied. He then opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue like a child trying to prove they’d eaten their broccoli. Warner stepped back in disgust.
‘George is never celebratory when it comes to charging a suspect and concluding a case. Are you, George?’ said Carson quickly stepping in to defuse the situation.
‘I don’t find it a cause for celebration.’
‘Nah, it’s more than that. You think I’ve got it wrong, don’t you? Care to elaborate?’ Warner tried to goad Cross.
‘I do not. Care to,’ he replied.
‘Well, as your superior officer I’m ordering you to,’ said Warner.
Cross thought about this for a moment. He obviously had no choice.
‘Alistair Moreton’s behaviour changed significantly in the two weeks leading up to his death,’ he began.
‘Oh, not this again,’ Warner protested.
‘Very well, let’s discuss the chisel,’ Cross continued.
‘What about it?’
‘I can’t see it in Cotterell’s hands on this CCTV,’ said Cross indicating his laptop.
‘He said he’d lost it,’ interjected Carson.
‘So you’ve decided to go along with a selective part of his narrative. That he’d lost the chisel. Then sees it upstairs and uses it to kill Moreton,’ Cross said.
‘Possibly,’ replied Carson.
‘You’re picking and choosing parts of his story you want to believe. But if he killed Moreton with the chisel, is it not more likely that he would have had it with him going into the house?’ Cross pointed out.
‘Look, the chisel is the murder weapon. That’s been established. His DNA is on it. It’s more than possible he lost it like he said, then picked it up in the house, accused Moreton of stealing it, they fight and he kills him with it,’ Warner said, getting increasingly irritated.
‘So, we are to… assume,’ Cross said the ‘a’ word with as much distaste as he was able to muster, ‘he went into the house, happened to see the chisel left out in plain sight, took it and used it to kill Moreton.’
‘Possibly,’ said Warner.
‘I’ve never considered “possibly” a sufficient criterion either to charge someone with murder or argue the case successfully in front of a judge,’ Cross went on.
‘George always does this. He has a habit of challenging us when we’ve charged someone,’ said Carson apologetically.
‘Your case is full of possibilities, theories and maybes. Sufficient for a defence barrister of even the meagrest of talents to cast enough doubt in court,’ said Cross.
‘Not my problem. If they can’t prove it, that’s their problem,’ said Warner.
‘An interesting point of view, sir. Not entirely satisfactory I would’ve thought,’ reflected Cross.
‘Enough of this. I’m taking the team to the pub,’ said Warner.
‘You should. Go and celebrate,’ Carson encouraged him.
‘I trust you won’t be joining us?’ Warner said to Cross.
‘Oh, George never goes to the pub,’ Carson answered for him, trying to head off another argument.
Warner left. Carson turned to Cross.
‘I think you might be wrong about this, George. Everything would seem to point in Cotterell’s direction.’
‘I agree,’ replied Cross.
‘You do?’ said Carson, surprised and unable to contain his relief.
‘It would “seem to”, yes,’ replied Cross.
Carson shook his head.
‘Please don’t cause any trouble.’
‘I’d like to speak to Cotterell,’ Cross told him. Carson’s face fell.
‘What? Why, George? Why must you always do this?’
‘Do what? My job?’ Cross replied.
‘But Cotterell has been charged.’
‘I’m aware of that. But I still have some questions I’d like to ask.’
Carson was about to object more strongly when it occurred to him that in situations like this Cross was often right.
‘All right. You have my permission,’ he sighed.
*
‘I have no intention of speaking to you until my lawyer has arrived from London,’ Cotterell said immediately.
‘I’d like to talk to you about Mr Moreton’s behaviour in the weeks before his death,’ Cross persisted.
‘No comment.’
This was as far as Cross got. Cotterell’s being charged had understandably changed the situation completely. The evidence pointed very firmly at him, and he hadn’t helped his case by lying to the police on two occasions. But for Cross something about it didn’t make sense. Not that murders always made sense. He wanted to know what had made Moreton change his routine over the last couple of weeks. Something had happened and whatever that was, Cross thought it might well have been relevant to his death.
He’d visit Tamsin Cotterell in the morning.