‘The CPS think we have enough to charge him, and now he wants to speak to his lawyer, which is always a good sign,’ said Carson.
‘He just needed a break. It doesn’t mean a thing,’ said Cross.
Carson sighed. Why did Cross always take the opposite view?
‘Charge him,’ he instructed them.
‘We have a few more hours,’ said Cross. ‘What’s the rush?’
‘Why wait?’ Carson responded.
‘There’s a huge difference between thinking that someone’s guilty and conclusively being able to prove it,’ Cross retorted.
‘Well, I’m willing to take my chances with a jury on this one,’ said Carson, but immediately regretted it. ‘I know, George. There’s no need for another lecture on the pitfalls of relying on a jury reaching the correct verdict. Although that is their very purpose.’
‘And our job is to give them as much help as possible to come to that – correct – verdict,’ said Cross, by way of a parting shot, as he left the office.
Carson looked at Ottey for some support.
‘What is it you told me when you partnered me with him?’ she asked mischievously.
‘“Best conviction rate in the force”, I know. It doesn’t make him any less irritating, though.’
*
Cross was studying a recording of his interview with Stokes when Ottey walked straight into his office; something he truly hated. It invariably startled him, interrupted him in what he was doing and annoyed him. He’d made it abundantly clear that admission to his office was contingent on a firm, but polite, knock.
‘You should hear this,’ she said, putting her laptop on his desk. For a second his irritation was assuaged, as he thought she must have had some sort of breakthrough in the case. But it was an interview on local radio with someone who sounded unmistakably like Alice Mackenzie. She was talking about the late DCI Esther Moffatt, who had died with no known relatives and few friends. She was appealing for relations to come to the funeral in a week’s time, having persuaded the funeral home to delay to give her time. It appeared that Mackenzie’s Facebook posting, liberally shared by her friends, had gained traction and media attention. Local radio had been in touch. But sadly no relatives had made contact, as yet.
‘Isn’t it great? Fab little local news story,’ Ottey said.
‘Ask her to come and see me when she’s back,’ was all he said, inexplicably annoyed that he was sure he’d heard the name of Stephen’s church being the venue for the funeral. After Ottey left he stopped to think for a moment. Why was he annoyed by Stephen’s church being used? But he couldn’t come up with an answer.
*
Half an hour later there was a knock at the door and Mackenzie appeared, having enjoyed a fair amount of ribbing and praise as she walked through the department.
‘You wanted to see me?’ she said to Cross.
‘I still do,’ he said instinctively correcting her errant tense. But he was prevented going any further by Ottey.
‘It’s the chief constable’s office on the phone,’ she announced.
‘Okay, put him through,’ replied Cross.
‘It’s for Alice,’ said Ottey.
‘Really? Oh shit,’ muttered Mackenzie, as she quickly left the office to take the call.