With parents like mine, hating the police was my genetic default setting. Programmed into my DNA and nurtured in the bosom of my dysfunctional family, overt antipathy for the cops was normal. The police returned it in full — to a kid.
Sure, Mum and Dad supplemented their benefit income with a side-line in drug dealing. Sure, they were bad parents. That was still no reason for the police to kick in the front door of our latest decrepit rental in Mangere at two o’clock in the morning. They could have knocked. Why trash the house when if they’d asked nicely, I would happily have shown them where Mum kept the stash? My parents were nothing but human refuse. Me and my siblings we were the spawn of that refuse.
To request an informal meeting with DS Parker was therefore one of the more difficult things I ever had to do. I’d never volunteered to have anything to do with the police in my life before. Thankfully, she didn’t keep me waiting. She did keep the door of the interview room open and from the way she sat side on in her chair, knees crossed, barely able to look me in the eye, I knew she’d read my file. She was polite.
‘Why did you tell the journalists Vaultange had been hacked?’ she asked before I had even sat down.
‘I didn’t. I said it could have been hacked.’
A smirk escaped the corners of her mouth. Parker wasn’t a bad looking woman. A few years older than me, curly dark hair, small nose and green eyes. If she’d bothered to use make-up, she could have been passably attractive. Judging by her clothes, battered leather jacket, black turtleneck jersey, black jeans and boots, she didn’t care much about her appearance or the opinion of others.
‘Vaultange customers, hundreds, have called the station, panicking, wanting information and demanding we find those responsible.’
‘I’m sure you said everything that can be done will be done.’
‘That’s not the point and you know it. If you hadn’t gone to the press with essentially a baseless and unproven speculation, we wouldn’t need to spend time we don’t have sorting out the mess you created.’
‘That’s not fair,’ I said. ‘You don’t know. The cold wallet could have been hacked.’
‘You don’t know either and that’s the point. The assets could still be there. You have deliberately stirred things up. Why would you do that?’
‘It was me who asked for this meeting, I didn’t come here to be told off like a small child. If you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment to go to.’ I stood up, forcing her to look up at me. I could see the hairs in her nostrils, her deviated septum.
‘Sit down,’ she said.
I stayed standing. Waiting for her to say please. When she did, I sat down.
‘I don’t suppose you know Annie Winter?’
‘Never heard of her.’
‘She knows you,’ Parker said. ‘She said you had coffee together.’
‘That Annie. The one in Andrew’s building. Yes, sorry I do know her. Is that her last name? Winter you say.’
The bitch was toying with me. She knew I’d told that stuck up cow about Jess.
‘Does the name Stacey Allen ring a bell?’
‘The reporter? Yes, I know her. We dated, two years ago or was it three?’
‘Interesting.’ Parker was nodding now.
I nodded too. I said nothing. I’d fed the hacking story to Stacey on the condition she didn’t reveal her source. I trusted her. She wouldn’t let me down. Parker was fishing. I twiddled my thumbs and waited.
‘How much do you know about Dr Cullinane?’ she asked finally.
‘Dr Gordon,’ I said. ‘She hasn’t changed her name. Not yet.’ Parker waved her hand for me to go on. ‘Not much. She met Andrew when he was a patient in the hospital. He wasn’t her patient which I’m told makes it all right. They got married. She’s an orphan, no family. Now we know why.’
Parker looked at her hands and waited. I hate that technique. The one where the interviewer says nothing knowing the interviewee will feel so uncomfortable, they will rush in and fill the silence. I hate it, so I know how to use it.
‘At some point in time,’ I said slowly as if I had only just remembered, ‘I heard her say her stepfather lived in Australia. Bryan I think she said.’
Parker picked up her pen and started writing. ‘Did she say where or if she was in contact with him?’
‘She didn’t. From the way she spoke she was in no hurry to find out. I was surprised because Jess hardly ever talks about herself. I suppose that’s why I remembered.’ I watched as she wrote Australia under his name and underlined both, before turning to a fresh page.
‘Tell me again what happened when you opened Andrew’s laptop,’ Parker said. ‘From the beginning.’
I settled in my chair. ‘Jess and I arranged to meet the day after the service. We needed to get the exchange running again. She didn’t know what to do and asked me to help. It was the least I could do in the circumstances.’
‘And generous,’ Parker said. ‘Your partner left the business to her, a business you helped found. You weren’t angry?’
‘Of course I was angry. I was furious. But what could I do? My concern was for the clients.’ I paused. ‘I know this sounds corny, but Andrew was my best friend. I knew he would have wanted me to help her.’
‘You’re right, it does sound corny. Go on. What happened?’
‘I could tell Jess had already opened it. I’m not sure how.’
‘Did she tell you that?’
‘She didn’t need to. It fired up straightaway.’
‘Do you know what she did or how long she was on it for?’
‘No. Your forensic people could tell you that.’
‘Go on.’
‘It was fine, until we opened the Excel file. Then, it closed down — blank screen, nothing.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I was stunned. Horrified. The data was gone. I tried to bring it back until I realised that could make things worse. So, I left it and told Jess to call Ross. He said he’d call your lot.’
‘What did she say when you told her it was serious? The first thing she said. Her exact words?’
‘She swore, then she said, someone doesn’t want us to see the files.’
‘Really? Most people, would think there was a fault with the computer, like a flat battery, or that it wasn’t plugged in, that you’d pressed the wrong key? The common reasons why programmes drop out, or don’t load properly.’
‘I see what you’re getting at,’ I said slowly. I waited. To give Parker time to join the dots.
‘Did you know about the USBs before Jess handed them in?’ she asked.
‘No. I’d never seen them before. Jess and I searched the apartment. We didn’t find anything.’
‘You searched the apartment together?’
‘Yes, we divided up the rooms and turned the place upside down. Didn’t find a thing.’
‘So, you didn’t see what Jess might have found and vice versa?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. But you’re right. I didn’t find anything. I can’t say for sure if Jess did or didn’t.’
She looked past me, at whoever was stationed behind the darkened window at the back of the room. Naturally, I had assumed the interview was being monitored as soon as I saw the layout. It would have been unprofessional otherwise and never, not for a minute, did I doubt Parker’s professionalism.
‘Thanks for your help, Mr Turner,’ she said getting to her feet.
Was that it? Obviously. I stood up too.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said.
I put out my hand, but she ignored it standing to one side to let me pass in front of her. Another cop met me at the door and escorted me from the station.