Nicki
At Mason’s house, as police from the surrounding area conceal themselves amongst the trees and shrubs along his driveway, then come in from the woods behind to cover the area where his helicopter lands, I wonder if he’s already inside watching us. The time he arranged with Adam, the estate agent, is an hour away.
“I hope the bastard hasn’t got wind of us,” the DI mutters grimly. “We can’t afford not to get him. Not now.”
“No.” Mason is potentially integral to more than one crime, but until we question him, we won’t know. “Sir, there’s a car coming.”
He freezes briefly as he listens, then mutters into his radio. As we wait, the car gets closer; then a black BMW comes into sight, speeding up the drive, stopping sharply at the gate. Immediately, twenty or so police surround it. Through the tinted glass, I see the driver’s head turning frantically, as he thinks about reversing before realizing the futility of even trying.
The DI pushes through the police, then knocks on the driver’s window. After a pause, it’s lowered.
I hear the DI’s voice. “Philip Mason? Detective Inspector Saunders, Chichester police. I am arresting you on suspicion of the possession and distribution of pornographic images. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
Mason’s mocking laugh reaches my ears. “Porn isn’t a crime, Detective Inspector. Now let me get on, please.”
“You’re right, Mr. Mason. But possession of pornographic images of children is. Out of the car.”
Behind Mason’s BMW, a police car pulls up. There’s no struggle. Maintaining his dignity, Mason gets out of his car and stands in front of the DI. His face gives away nothing. A minute later, the police car drives him away.
“Check Mason’s car, May, will you? Then we’d better get back to the station.”
There’s a briefcase in Mason’s car and a few CDs in the glove compartment, all of which I remove. When I catch up to the DI, he’s talking on his phone. After he’s finished, he glances at what I’m holding.
“Check the discs as soon as we get back. They might be innocent, but I’ll bet they’re not.”
As we drive back, something puzzles me. “He was taking quite a risk, wasn’t he—coming back to the house, when he knows we’re on to him?”
“Possibly.” The DI stares ahead. “I imagine he doesn’t know we’ve found his cellar.” He shrugs. “He may or may not be connected with Hollie’s murder, even if he is guilty as hell of a number of other crimes. If he was selling his house, he would have had to get the cellar cleared out at some point. He wouldn’t have known we’ve done it for him.” The DI’s referring to forensics, who will have removed everything of interest to them. “I don’t know—perhaps he genuinely has a buyer. Maybe he was running out of time and it was a risk he had to take.”
* * *
Two hours later, after Mason’s lawyer arrives, I join the DI in the interview room.
“I’m Detective Inspector Saunders. This is Detective Sergeant May. We’d like to question you about the contents of a cellar on your property, Mr. Mason.”
Mason is cool as he looks at us. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Detective Inspector. What contents of which cellar?”
“The L-shape of converted farm buildings, just in front of where you land your helicopter.” As I speak, something flickers across his face.
“I know the buildings.” His voice is calm, but he frowns. “But I don’t keep anything in there. I was going to do them up as holiday rentals. But as you obviously know, I’ve decided to sell.”
“As you’re aware,” I go on, “walls have been built leaving a space that’s unaccounted for on the floor plan. The door is around the back. We found it.” I pause, watching Mason’s face. “You didn’t leave a key with the estate agent, so we broke in. It was obvious from the floorboards that some had recently been replaced. When we lifted them, we found a staircase.”
There’s a look of incredulity on Mason’s face. “This is news to me, Detective Sergeant. Did you find anything?”
“Enough of this charade.” The DI’s voice is full of contempt. “You know full well what was down there. We have witnesses, Mr. Mason, who will testify about the business you encourage people to invest in, before you blackmail them. James Hampton, for one.”
As Mason visibly pales, the DI goes on. “We’re currently matching your fingerprints with those we’ve found on various items of computer hardware found in your cellar. I’d say it’s a matter of mere minutes before we have proof.” The DI leans back, studying Mason. “While we’re waiting, let’s talk about Hollie Hampton.”
When Mason looks visibly shocked, a horrifying thought occurs to me. What if he’d groomed Hollie? What if she was one of his models? She’d been noticeably more distressed shortly before she died, according to several of the villagers. “A word, sir?”
Nodding, the DI gets up. “We’ll take a short break. I’m going to chase those fingerprints, and then we’ll carry on.”
Outside, once we’re out of earshot, I tell the DI what just occurred to me.
He nods. “You’re right. We can’t ignore the possibility. We’ll get her photo over to forensics and ask them to check it against Mason’s images. In fact, do that now, while I talk to them. I’ll see you back here in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, when we reconvene outside the door of the interview room, the DI nods briefly when he sees me. “Mason’s fingerprints are on everything. Let’s break the news.” He holds open the door for me.
“Right.” He sits down. “As we expected, your fingerprints were everywhere in that cellar, Mason. You may as well tell us what went on and who else was involved.”
Folding his arms, Mason sits back. “I have nothing to say.”
“What about Hollie Hampton? Did you pay her? Or did she try to buy you off?”
As Mason frowns, I see what the DI’s getting at. “She came to you, didn’t she? She knew you were blackmailing her father. She offered you photographs in exchange for releasing him. But you wanted it all, didn’t you? By killing Hollie, you kept her photos and continued to force her father to pay you.”
“That’s ludicrous.” But after his earlier performance, it’s impossible to know if Mason’s look of shock is genuine.
“Is it? We know you persuaded people like James Hampton to invest in your porn business, then blackmailed them for even more money.” The DI leans back. “Or do you have a different version of events?”
After glancing sideways at his lawyer, Mason starts speaking. “I admit to some of the photographs—but not all of them.”
“They’re on your premises, on your machines.” The DI’s voice is sharp. “That’s fairly conclusive.”
“Someone else was in on it.” He shakes his head. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“For God’s sake, Mason.” The DI looks disgusted. “You’re doing yourself no favors here. Unless you tell us who it is, you’ll be charged with all of it.”
But even then, Mason says nothing.