Fatal Witness (Detective Erika Foster #7) (91)

Charles was now shaking with anger, and he looked like he was trying to get it under control.

‘Yes. I got the letter. Yes! But I just thought it had been delivered in error,’ he said carefully, still shaking.

‘Charles. It’s got your name on the envelope,’ said Erika, holding it up to his face. ‘It was hand-delivered to your address. Whoever did deliver this would have to know how to get into Honeycomb Court. The front door has a card key entry.’

Charles shook his head and his shaking became worse; all colour had now drained from his puffy face.

‘I just… I just… I just…’

‘You just what?’

‘I thought it was kids, mucking around.’

‘Stop lying!’ shouted Erika, slamming her hand on the table, feeling a rush of anger herself. ‘This is more than kids mucking around!’

‘I don’t know!’ he roared, crashing his fists down on the table. ‘I don’t fucking know, okay? If you tortured me, I still wouldn’t know!’

‘Who is Lily Parkes, Charles?’

‘Stop saying her name.’

‘What did you do to her?’

‘Nothing!’ he insisted.

‘What did she do to you, Charles? She did something, didn’t she?’

‘She lied. Tricked me.’

‘Tricked you into what?’ asked Erika, leaning in, and feeling she was so close. ‘What did she lie about?’

At this point, he really lost it and stood up, his face red, and screamed at Erika. He thumped his fists on the desk. ‘No! Why can’t you leave me alone! Leave me alone. Alone!’

He stepped back and staggered over his chair, and then he leant forward and threw up all over the floor. His solicitor leapt up off his chair and stepped back in disgust, sweeping his papers away off the table.

Erika and Peterson sat back in shock. Charles stood there, staring at the carpet, retched and then spat. Then he wiped his mouth, and all the anger seemed to drain away from him and he sank down on his haunches, shaking and wailing.

‘Oh dear… Dear me… I’ve made a mess. I’m very sorry about that,’ he said.

‘That’s enough, we need a doctor in here, now!’ said his solicitor.





60





‘Blimey, we haven’t had a puker in a while,’ said Moss when she and Peterson came out of the interview room. Charles Wakefield had been led back down to the custody suite by one of the uniformed officers, and when he’d left the interview room, he’d snapped from being wild and crazed with anger to mute and withdrawn.

‘Do you think we should get the doc down to have a look at him?’ asked Peterson in a low voice. ‘I think he could be on the edge, and maybe…’

‘Put him on suicide watch?’ finished Erika. Moss nodded in agreement with Peterson. ‘Okay. Yes.’

Erika was deeply frustrated. She had come so close to getting it out of Charles, who Lily Parkes was, and what she’d done to him. They walked back to the incident room in silence, and her foot was now throbbing.

‘Do we have anything on the DNA sample taken from Charles Wakefield?’ she asked, for what seemed like the tenth time that day.

Crane looked up, and over at John. ‘We’ve just heard that it was sent to London, from Hove,’ he said.

‘What? They didn’t process it in their lab?’ she asked, dismayed.

‘I think there was a mix-up and they thought it should be sent to London for the Met lab to process it,’ said John.

Erika felt a flash of anger. She took two more of her painkillers with some cold coffee. ‘And how long is that going to take?’

‘I’ve been promised the results in the next few hours.’

The rest of the afternoon moved slowly. A doctor was called for Charles Wakefield and until he’d been seen, he was off limits for any more interviews. Erika had a reply from Kathleen, who told her that she’d never heard of a girl called Lily Parkes. Erika then had a call from Cilla.

‘I’m sorry I missed your call, detective. How can I help?’

Erika said she wanted to ask a few questions about past students.

‘Listen, I’m just about to get on the Tube to go and teach a voice class. Would you like to come over to the house?’

‘I’d like to talk to you today, it’s urgent,’ said Erika, checking her watch.

‘You could come for dinner. I’m cooking for myself, Colin and Ray. Why don’t you stop by and you can pick our brains.’

Erika could hear the rattle of the Tube train approaching in the background.

‘I’d rather talk on the phone.’

‘I’m very busy, detective. Come over and I can give you my full attention.’

‘I’ll come after you’ve eaten. How does 8pm sound?’

Cilla agreed and gave her the address of the house on Telegraph Hill. As the afternoon wore on, the rest of the team started to leave, and at 7pm Moss was the last to go.

‘How’s the foot?’ she asked as she saw Erika shifting and grimacing.

‘I have my last dose in a couple of hours,’ she said, wondering how she was going to sleep if she couldn’t take any more until the morning.

‘Okay, be careful. Let me know how it goes with Colin, Cilla and Ray.’