77

‘Shit,’ was Ottey’s immediate reaction when Cross told her about Brook being on his way to Bristol. ‘Shit,’ was her reaction when then told of the timing of his mother’s death and her matriarchal role in the Brook family. By the time he told her Brook owned a Rhodesian Ridgeback she seemed to have no exclamations left. He arrived in a chauffeur-driven Jaguar. He was as immaculate as the day Cross had seen him in his office. Different suit and tie but the same elegance. He was taken into an interview room with a lawyer he’d brought down from London with him. Cross and Ottey came into the room. Cross organised his folder. The lawyer spoke immediately.

‘Is my client going to be placed under arrest?’

‘He is not. But this will be an interview conducted under caution,’ replied Cross.

Ottey then cautioned Brook. Cross noticed that, although in a completely different environment from his palatial Whitehall office, Brook was nevertheless undiminished. He sat upright and confident. Was this his natural bearing, or was it because he had nothing to worry about?

‘How would you like to be addressed? Sir Richard? Richard? Mr Brook?’ Cross began.

‘Thank you for asking. Richard will be absolutely fine,’ he replied cordially.

‘Richard, when was the last time you saw Alistair Moreton?’ Cross asked.

‘I’ve already answered that question.’

‘Sir Richard, as you are now being interviewed under caution, you may well have to answer some questions you’ve already been asked,’ his lawyer advised him, with the noticeable use of his title as if to remind everyone in the room of his client’s status.

‘At my brother’s funeral, probably. I’m not entirely sure,’ Brook replied, as before.

‘You blame Alistair Moreton for your brother’s death, do you not?’ Cross asked.

The lawyer leant forward and whispered in Brook’s ear.

‘No, I’d like to answer that,’ Brook replied, disagreeing with whatever he’d just been advised. ‘Yes, I do. Alistair Moreton was a monster as a headmaster. His behaviour was completely unacceptable at All Saints, yet he got away with it till he was sacked. He bullied and tortured Adam at the crammer in London.’

‘Why was he there? Your brother?’ Cross asked.

‘Because my mother was obsessed with Oxbridge and my father, as always, just fell in line.’

‘But you had both presumably told your parents of Moreton’s methods, his incessant beatings?’

‘Yes.’

‘And yet they went ahead. Why was that?’ asked Cross.

‘I think in part because Mother thought we exaggerated, but also because she thought his methods were successful.’

‘Did Adam protest at the decision?’

‘Absolutely. We both did. But my mother could be very persuasive. She told Adam it was only for a few months and then it would all be over.’

‘But your brother left early and killed himself,’ Cross stated matter-of-factly.

‘Correct.’

‘Did your mother blame herself?’

‘She never said as much. But I think so, yes. I mean, who wouldn’t? But it never occurred to us, any of us, that Adey would do such a thing.’

‘Did you discuss it with your parents after it had happened?’

‘No. Not after the funeral. They weren’t great like that. Showing their feelings, let alone discussing them. They just felt it had happened and we should get on with life. My mother, though, never got over it.’

‘So, to be perfectly clear. You never discussed Moreton, your brother’s suicide and the possibility that his treatment of him had something to do with it, with either of them?’

‘Possibility? That man was almost solely to blame.’

‘Did your brother have other mental issues?’ asked Ottey.

‘I didn’t think so at the time but now, obviously, we have to accept that he must’ve done. The fact that I didn’t know, or even worse, didn’t notice, just makes it all the more painful.’

‘Are you over your brother’s suicide? Emotionally?’ asked Ottey.

‘Of course not. You never are.’

‘Did you ever consider confronting Moreton?’ asked Cross.

Brook paused momentarily.

‘No. What would be the point? And like I said, that would have been tantamount to blaming my mother,’ he replied.

‘Is that why you waited till after she died?’ Cross asked.

There was a significant pause. The lawyer remained completely poker-faced.

‘Did you wait until after your mother’s death to confront Moreton?’ Cross repeated.

‘Of course not,’ replied Brook, his mask of composure slipping for the first time in the interview.

‘I mean, a man with the many resources you have at your fingertips in government would surely have little or no trouble tracking him down. But then, you had no need. You saw Peter Montgomery had posted Moreton’s address.’

Brook made no response.

‘Unfortunately for you, but quite usefully for us, you didn’t initially make a note of it before Maurice Simpson deleted it. So, you private messaged him and asked him for it,’ Cross explained.

Again, Brook said nothing.

‘To be fair to Montgomery,’ said Ottey chipping in, ‘even when we arrested him, he said nothing about you. The old boy network at work. But we had his computer and found the messages between you.’

‘Did you go to Alistair Moreton’s cottage prior to his murder?’ Cross asked.

Brook’s lawyer leant over and whispered in his ear at length. Brook then turned back to Cross and stared at him. Cross simply looked straight back and read Brook as being conflicted. But the civil servant said nothing.

‘What are you thinking about, Richard?’ Ottey asked.

‘He’s calculating whether we only have his asking Montgomery for the address or we have more evidence,’ observed Cross. It had become a familiar poker moment in an interview for him.

‘I did not.’

Cross noted a slight blink of surprise in the lawyer’s eye.

‘Do you want to reconsider that answer?’ he asked.

A lengthy pause followed.

‘I do not.’

‘We have two eyewitnesses that put you at Moreton’s door the week before his murder,’ Cross informed him.

‘Who are these witnesses? Moreton lived alone. He was notoriously antisocial,’ commented the lawyer, who was obviously very well briefed.

‘That is immaterial,’ Cross responded, while at the same time curious as to how the lawyer may have come across this information.

‘They have both, independently, picked you out of a photo lineup, Richard,’ Ottey told him.

‘Why did you just lie?’ asked Cross.

‘My apologies,’ came the suave, assured answer.

‘Why then?’ asked Cross. ‘Why, after all this time, did you choose to go to Moreton and confront him?’

‘As you correctly pointed out, my mother had just died. I was no longer held back by that.’

‘What happened when you went there?’

‘I told him who I was. But there was no need. He knew. He proceeded to tell me how proud he was of me. He’d been watching my career from afar. I was his star pupil. It was so offensive to hear that coming out of his mouth. Didn’t even mention the Sandy situation. But that didn’t surprise me. I always felt that he didn’t think much of his son. That maybe he was always a disappointment. Anyway, I just came right out with it. I told him he’d killed my brother and that I’d never be able to forgive him. I just wanted him to know that’s what we all felt. I lambasted him for the way he’d treated us children. Told him I thought he was a barbarian who should’ve ended up in prison for what he’d done. It got quite heated quite quickly. The old temper rose to the surface in him, and I saw the tyrant I recognised. He pushed back hard, tried to defend himself, which only made things worse. He was quite agitated which, I don’t know, maybe that was enough for me. So, I left.’

‘How did you feel after that encounter?’ Ottey asked.

‘In all honesty, I felt a little ashamed. But also liberated.’

‘Why ashamed?’ she asked.

‘He was an old man, a little frail. I’m not sure what I expected. But actually, I’d do it again. Just because he got old shouldn’t be a reason to think he should be able to get away with it. That there’d be no consequences for what he’d done to us and for Adam’s death.’

‘Which is why you went back on the seventeenth of September and killed him,’ said Cross. ‘The ultimate consequence.’

‘I did not kill Alistair Moreton, nor did I go back to his house,’ he replied calmly.

‘You have lied to us on a number of occasions. Why should we believe you now? You see how difficult you’ve made it for yourself?’ Cross pointed out.

‘Because it’s the truth.’

Cross simply looked back at the man blankly.

‘Where were you the night of September the seventeenth?’ asked Ottey.

‘Now I’ve actually checked this. It was a Sunday, and I was at home.’

‘Were you alone?’ she asked.

‘No. My wife was away for a weekend jaunt with her girlfriends. I was at home alone with my father,’ he replied.

‘Will he testify to that?’ asked Cross.

‘No. He has Alzheimer’s.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Ottey.

‘Does he live at home with you normally?’ asked Cross.

‘He does.’

‘Presumably you have help?’ Cross asked.

‘Yes. Carers come in. They get him up in the morning. Spend time with him in the afternoon and then put him to bed in the evening.’

‘Does he go to bed at a regular time?’ Cross asked.

‘Yes, like clockwork. He may have lost his mind but he likes his routine and gets very upset if it isn’t adhered to. He tends to go up around seven.’

‘Do you use an agency? For the carers?’

‘We do.’

‘Could we have their details?’

‘Of course.’ He wrote a name and number on a piece of paper. Ottey disappeared for a few moments to ask Alice to check the agency’s roster that night. Find out who was caring for Martin Brook and speak to them. Cross continued, meanwhile.

‘Richard Brook. Did you kill Alistair Moreton?’ asked Cross.

‘I did not.’

‘But as you’ve told us, you had a major issue with him. Not only because of the physical abuse you received at his hands as a young boy, but you’re convinced he drove your brother to his death,’ Ottey pointed out. ‘It would be completely understandable if you had. Like you said, his actions should have consequences.’

‘I didn’t mean it in the way you are putting it. My brother’s been dead a long time. Moreton was an old man. What would be achieved by doing that?’

‘Is it true to say you hated the man?’ she asked.

‘It is. Yes. But if that were grounds for suspicion for his murder, you’d have hundreds of suspects around my age.’

‘You have history with Moreton’s son, Sandy,’ said Cross changing tack.

Brook sighed. They’d already talked about this, but he knew he’d have to go over it again. He had no choice.

‘Our lives seem to have collided at various points, yes,’ he conceded.

‘Are you pleased that it would appear you have ended his political career? That in the end, perhaps, you came out on top?’ Cross asked.

‘Pleased would imply a level of personal satisfaction,’ Brook replied.

‘It would, yes, which is why I phrased it that way.’

‘No, I’m way beyond that. I was simply happy his behaviour had been brought to an end and that was that.’

‘Are you happily married?’

‘I am.’

‘Does it surprise you that your wife was Sandy Moreton’s girlfriend at Oxford?’

‘Of course not. I knew at the time.’

‘I didn’t phrase the question correctly. That’s not what I meant. Does her choice surprise you? That she found him an attractive enough personality to spend time with him in a relationship,’ Cross clarified.

‘Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose so. To an extent. I joke it was her one lapse in taste. But he made a great effort to be sociable and that was alluring. She met him early on and he introduced her to a lot of people. Took her to parties. It made sense.’

Mackenzie now brought in a note and gave it to Ottey. She knew from experience that Cross didn’t like to be interrupted in any way in the interview room. Ottey read it and when she judged it a good time passed it on to her colleague. He read it, then turned over the pages in his file to get to a different point in his notes. He then seemed lost in thought for such a length of time that it occasioned Brook to look over at his solicitor enquiringly. The lawyer simply shrugged. Cross finally looked back up at Brook.

‘Do you know anything about Sandy Moreton’s relationship with his father?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think it can have been very easy.’

‘Because he was his headmaster?’ asked Cross.

‘In part. But the way his father treated him at times made it quite difficult for him at school. Now that I’m a lot older I think, well, I almost feel sorry for him back then. His aggressive, superior attitude to the rest of us was simply self-protection. But one’s character is formed in those impressionable years. I think it damaged him for the rest of his life.’

‘Do you think he liked his father?’ Cross asked.

‘You’d have to ask him that,’ Brook replied, perfectly reasonably, Cross felt. He then thought for a few seconds, assembled his papers and left the room. Brook looked at Ottey.

‘You’re free to go, Richard,’ she said.

‘I see. Is that it?’

‘Yes. Thank you for your time,’ she said, standing up. He also did so.

‘For what it’s worth and despite my feelings about Alistair Moreton, I do hope you find who’s responsible. He didn’t deserve this, whatever he did in the past.’