‘Thank God that’s over,’ Adele said to Peter when she arrived at his apartment.
‘Have they charged you?’ he asked.
‘No, but they’ve told me to stay in Manchester for now.’
‘Do you wanna drink?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I think I need one after that.’
Peter poured some brandy into a tumbler and passed it to her.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’
The serious tone of his voice frightened Adele. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘You need to be prepared for more questioning,’ he said.
‘Jesus!’ said Adele. ‘I thought that was it.’
‘It might not be. Why do you think they’ve told you to stay in Manchester? It’s in case they need to question you again.’ He paused then continued. ‘Did they produce any evidence?’
‘No, they just kept interrogating me.’
‘They might have more to go on,’ he said. ‘It can take a while for it to come back from the labs.’
Adele stared at him open-mouthed for several seconds before speaking. ‘Oh my God! I didn’t realise… I don’t know if I can go through that again. It was hell!’
‘You might not have a fuckin’ choice,’ said Peter, taking a sip from his own tumbler. ‘Best thing we can do now is make sure you’re ready if it does happen.’
*
As Peter had predicted, the police called at Adele’s home again only this time she was placed under arrest in connection with her father’s death. On hearing the police officer’s words Adele gasped. Then her adrenalin kicked in, the blood pumping ferociously around her body until she felt lightheaded.
‘I would also like to inform you that we have a warrant to search the premises,’ said Inspector Right,’ and Adele flinched as she noticed his eyes settle on her suitcase.
Despite Peter’s previous advice, Adele was in such a state that it didn’t occur to her until later that she needed a solicitor with her. She spent the journey to the station trying to quash her panicked thoughts and focus on staying relaxed.
Once they arrived at the station, Adele was booked in by the custody sergeant. She was then led to an interview room where she was told to wait. Eventually Inspector Right and Sergeant Stewart arrived. When he had outlined Adele’s rights to her, Inspector Right began by questioning her again about the evening when she visited her parents’ home to collect her mother’s things for hospital.
‘So, take me through the events of that night again,’ he said.
‘There’s nothing much to add. I went in…’
The inspector interrupted her. ‘And that was at around 8.15 to 8.30 p.m.?’ he asked, looking at his notes.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘How did you get in?’ he asked.
‘I-I’ve got a key,’ she replied, a look of curiosity on her face.
‘OK, carry on.’
‘I went upstairs to get my mam’s things.’
The inspector cut in again. ‘So, you went straight upstairs?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Which rooms did you go into?’
Adele pretended to think. ‘My parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, you didn’t go into any of the downstairs rooms?’
‘No.’
‘OK, so what did you do then?’
‘Once I’d got her stuff I let myself out.’
Then Sergeant Stewart spoke. ‘Did you notice anything while you were there?’
‘No.’
‘What about sounds? Any indication that there was anyone else inside the house? Movement from any of the other rooms? The sound of the TV?’
Adele had already thought about the TV. She would deny hearing it because, if she admitted hearing it, the police would want to know why it wasn’t still on when her mother returned the following day. Then she would have to say she entered the living room to switch it off. And that would implicate her.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Then why did your parents’ neighbour notice that the TV was still on when she went to bed at 11 p.m.?’ asked the inspector.
Adele felt a rising panic. They knew. The police knew! But they still didn’t have any proof. So, she would keep denying it like Peter had advised and hope they couldn’t detect the rush of fear that shot through her body.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she said.
When they had questioned Adele for a while, the police left her alone again. She was worried. Something was going on but she didn’t know what.
It seemed like an age before the inspector and sergeant returned and took their seats opposite her. The sergeant was carrying a box, which he put down on the table. From the other side of the table, Adele couldn’t see what was inside it. Then the sergeant began to remove plastic evidence bags from the box.
It was difficult to identify what the first evidence bag contained; it was something small, perhaps a fragment or a hair. But the second bag contained the blouse that she had been wearing when she killed her father. Shit! The relevance hit her. But, before she could react, the sergeant put his hand into the box again. He withdrew another evidence bag.
Inside it was the brass cat. The sight of it made Adele’s breath catch in her throat. A cold chill ran down her spine and she suppressed a shudder. Then she felt an urge to vomit and tears flooded her eyes. ‘I-I think I need to make a phone call,’ she said.
‘Very well,’ said the inspector. ‘But, before you do, I think you need to know that we’re charging you for the unlawful killing of your father.’
*
Peter had been back home for two hours following a lengthy and gruelling session at the police station. He’d rung Adele to find out if she had also been taken in for questioning but the phone line was dead. Of course! Realisation dawned on him; she had been planning to leave so she’d probably still have the phone disconnected.
Next, he rang his mother to find out if she had heard from Adele but she hadn’t. She told him that she had been questioned again too and it took him all his time to calm her down so he could get her off the phone.
He was concerned about Adele. All he could do was wait for her call but when he still hadn’t heard from her a while later, he knew it wasn’t a good sign. If they had kept her in longer than him then perhaps it was because they knew they had something on her.
The hours dragged on, but Peter stayed calm and mentally prepared himself to deal with whatever situation arose. By the time the phone rang he was ready.
‘Peter, they’ve charged me,’ Adele cried down the phone.
‘How come? You’ve not spilt the beans have you?’
‘No, I think it’s because I visited the house that night. And they’ve got evidence. My blouse and that bloody cat!’
As soon as she mentioned the evidence he knew she was up against it. And the fact that she was there on the night of their father’s death didn’t help either. The police had also questioned him about that night but he had made sure he had a stern alibi, and friends to back up his story.
But despite having all the odds stacked against her, he’d still do his best to get his sister out of the shit. ‘I know it sounds easier said than done, but try not to worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a brief round to the station as soon as possible. Don’t answer any more questions till then.’
‘OK, thank you,’ she wept.
Peter continued. ‘The brief will tell you what to do. Wait for him to get there, and don’t let them break you.’
‘OK,’ she replied weakly.
‘Oh, and Adele?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t forget what I told you. Not a word, OK? No matter what happens.’
‘Yes, I know. I told you I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Shhh,’ said Peter, worried that she’d mention something on the phone that might implicate him. ‘Just do as I say and listen to your brief, and everything will be fine. OK?’
He put down the phone and sighed. There was no doubt Adele was in a state. He just hoped she didn’t break, but something told him she would keep to her word and not say anything about his involvement. She owed him that, at least. After all, he had stuck his neck out in trying to get her out of the shit. There was nothing else he could do now other than provide the best solicitor he could afford, then sit back and hope.