Smith

  FORTY

  CONFESSION

  “Done and dusted,” Smith said triumphantly as he swaggered through the reception area, “We should be able to put this one behind us soon. The Super will be happy.”

  He smiled at Roxy Jones.

  “Miss Jones, would you follow me please.”

  Roxy Jones stood up.

  “Whitton,” Smith said, “can I have a quick word.”

  “Of course sir,” she replied.

  “Whitton,” Smith said when they were out of earshot, “I want you to help me with this one.”

  “What have you got up your sleeve sir,” she asked.

  “I’m going for the jugular,” he replied, “I’m not going to stand and watch this woman get away with it. I’m going to hit her where it hurts; I just want to warn you beforehand ok?”

  “I’ll be ready sir.”

  “Where’s Bridge?” Smith asked as they made their way to the interview room.

  “Called out sir,” Whitton said, “domestic.”

  “Get hold of him. I need him to bring in Miss Jones’ computer. Come through,” he said to Roxy Jones, “we’ll use room two; Hogg has left behind a particularly unpleasant smell in room three.”

  He closed the door behind them.

  “Have a seat please,” Smith said.

  He pulled another chair out for Roxy Jones’ lawyer. Atkins looked at his watch.

  “You can start the meter now Mr Atkins,” Smith joked, “or has it been running since Miss Jones called you?”

  “Enough of the sarcasm Sergeant,” Atkins said, “can we get on with this; I’m a very busy man.”

  “Me too,” Smith smiled, “you’re right of course, this shouldn’t take too long. Miss Jones, what can you tell us?”

  Roxy Jones looked at her lawyer.

  “Don’t say anything,” he advised her.

  “Very well then,” Smith said, “looks like it’s up to me to begin.”

  There was a knock at the door and Whitton entered the room.

  “Mr Hogg,” Smith continued, “has told us everything and is busy putting it down on paper.”

  He turned on the recording device.

  “He’s lying!” Roxy Jones screamed, “I don’t know what he’s told you but he’s a liar.”

  “Miss Jones,” Atkins said, “don’t say anything.”

  “I don’t think this thing was turned on in time anyway.”

  Smith pointed to the tape machine.

  “Would you mind screaming that again,” he smiled.

  “Sergeant,” Atkins said gravely, “I’m warning you, if you can’t take this seriously then I’m afraid I’ll have to take this up with your superiors.”

  “Fair point,” Smith said, “as I said, Hogg has put us in the picture about Lauren Cowley, the baby.”

  Smith looked directly at Roxy Jones.

  “Or should I say Frank’s baby?” he added.

  The room went silent but Roxy Jones’ face reddened.

  “Where was I?” Smith said, “Oh yes, we know about Martin Willow’s bank account, Tenerife, pretty much everything. Why did you go to Tenerife Miss Jones?”

  “I didn’t go to Tenerife,” Roxy Jones replied.

  “First lie of the day,” Smith said, “we’ve got at least three people who saw you there.”

  “They’re mistaken,” Roxy Jones insisted, “you can’t prove I was on any plane to Tenerife”

  Smith looked at Whitton and gave her a nod. He had decided to take another approach. “Let’s start at the very beginning shall we?” he said, “Miss Jones, when did you find out about Frank and Lauren Cowley?”

  “That Bitch,” she replied, “Frank was old enough to be her father. Frank used to go for drinks with Martin sometimes after work.”

  “Martin Willow?” Smith asked.

  “Yes. Martin always seemed to have a stream of groupies running after him; this Lauren bitch was one of them.”

  “Is this really relevant Sergeant?” Atkins asked.

  “Go on Miss Jones,” Smith ignored him.

  “One night, Frank said he would be working late and my sister became ill. I phoned his office to tell Frank I would be at my sister’s but the woman on the switchboard said that Frank had already left for the day.”

  “What did Frank say about that?”

  “He said the switchboard woman didn’t know her arse from her elbow so I let it go.”

  “But you sensed that something was wrong?”

  “Frank started to change,” Roxy Jones was becoming agitated.

  “In what way?” Smith said.

  “He became a different person,” she said, “he became quite childish; started to listen to new music. At first I hoped it was just a phase, a mid life crisis kind of thing but it carried on for some time. One evening I had had enough so I followed him from his office.”

  “You followed him?” Whitton said.

  “It’s not a crime to follow your boyfriend is it?”

  “No,” Smith said, “what happened?”

  “He got in his car,” Roxy Jones began, “and drove to where this Cowley tart stays. I followed him there.”

  “What did you do then”?

  “Nothing. I just watched as some young woman opened the door and let Frank in. I knew what was going on but I was devastated anyway. Then I got angry. The bastard had been lying to me; he had been cheating on me. I went back to the girl’s house the next day.”

  “What were you planning to do?” Smith asked.

  “What do you think?” Roxy Jones said, “I was going to confront the bitch and tell her to leave my man alone.” She was becoming quite flustered.

  “Calm down Miss Jones,” Atkins said.

  “Did you confront Miss Cowley?” Smith asked.

  “I didn’t have to,” she replied, “as I was busy boiling up in the car, the front door to the house opened and a woman appeared. It was the same woman I had seen let Frank into the house.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I saw red. I got out of the car and approached her. I think I called her every name under the sun but she just stood there aghast. She said that she didn’t know what I was talking about and that she already had a boyfriend.”

  “Susan Jenkins?” Whitton suggested.

  “Yes,” Roxy Jones said, “that was how I met Susan and considering what I had just called her, she seemed quite calm. She was very kind; she suggested we go and get a drink somewhere so I could calm down and it was then she told me everything.”

  “What did she tell you?” Smith asked.

  “She told me that Frank and this Lauren had been seeing each other for a few months. I work away from home a lot and he had been seeing her while I was away.”

  “How did you find out Lauren was pregnant?” Smith asked.

  Roxy Jones’ face changed. She looked exhausted.

  “Susan told me,” She said, “she found the pregnancy test in the bathroom.”

  Smith decided to go for broke.

  “You can’t have children can you Miss Jones?” he said.

  “Sergeant!” Atkins shouted, “This is highly inappropriate.”

  “It’s ok,” she said.

  Her whole demeanour had changed.

  “I’m finished,” she said, “I can’t take much more.”

  “I’m requesting a break,” Atkins insisted.

  “Let me finish,” Roxy Jones said.

  “Carry on,” Smith said. He was keen to keep the momentum going.

  “It all got out of control very quickly,” she continued, “I became quite friendly with Susan Jenkins despite the difference in our age. I suppose it’s because I paid for everything; Susan and Mick were always broke. Susan was always talking about going to somewhere nice for a holiday. She had only been abroad once.”

  “To Tenerife maybe?” Smith suggested.

  “Yes, and she said she would love to back there o
ne day. One night after a few drinks I came up with a plan. On hindsight it was the most stupid thing I have ever done but I lost all sight of reason. Some young slut was having Frank’s baby. That’s when I concocted the suicide plan. Susan would get Lauren to drink the laced wine and then Mick would smother her with a pillow. In return, I would give them enough money to have a holiday in Tenerife.”

  “You’re not helping yourself Miss Jones,” Atkins said.

  “Shut up!” she shouted, “just shut up.”

  “And Susan and Mick just went along with the whole thing?” Whitton asked.

  “Not at first,” Roxy Jones said, “but once I’d convinced them that the plan was flawless, nobody would ever find out, they did what I asked. I even wrote a note.”

  “I AM SO SORRY MARTIN,” Smith quoted, “Why Martin?”

  “At the time, it seemed like a brilliant idea; the Police would look in a completely different direction. That is until the idiot decided to try and slaughter Wendy and Penny. That was definitely not part of the plan.”

  “And the trip to Tenerife?” Smith asked.

  “When Frank decided it was a great idea to confess to being the father of the baby and let you search our house I decided that things were getting out of control so I went to make sure Mick and Susan kept their mouths shut.”

  “And you found out that Susan Jenkins was getting cold feet?”

  “She was a wreck.”

  “So you paid Hogg to shut her up?”

  “I had to; I didn’t know what else to do. What will happen to me Sergeant?”

  Roxy Jones looked almost relieved.

  “You’ll be charged with two counts of being an accessory to murder,” Smith said.

  “This is unbelievable,” Atkins snorted. He stood up.

  “Get out,” Roxy Jones said to him, “you old fossil, you’re fired.”

  Atkins muttered something under his breath about his fee and left the room.

  “One more thing,” Smith said, “On Christmas Eve, we have a taxi driver who claims that after he dropped the Willows off, he came back to your house twice; once to pick up a young woman and then again to fetch a man.”

  Roxy Jones seemed confused.

  “He only came back once,” she said, “Once the Willows had left I phoned Susan and told her to wait outside my house for a taxi to take her home. I thought it would not seem odd that Susan caught a taxi back to her own house.”

  Smith rubbed his temples.

  “Maybe the driver was mistaken,” he said, “Thank you Miss Jones, you’ve done the right thing. I’m afraid we’re going to have to charge you and then it’s out of our hands.”

  “What about Hogg?” Roxy Jones asked.

  “He’ll be charged too,” Smith said, “on the same two counts.”

  “That went much better than I’d anticipated,” Smith said as he slurped a coffee in the canteen.

  “You pushed the right buttons sir,” Whitton laughed, “us females can be slightly over emotional some times.”

  “You women are bloody scary,” he laughed, “a woman scorned and all that. Do me a favour Whitton. Find Thompson and tell him he can tear up Hogg’s statement; I don’t think we’ll be needing it.”

  “Do you still think Martin Willow is innocent sir?”

  “Yes I do; there’s something just not quite right about it but it looks like he’s the only suspect at the moment.”

  “So what now?”

  “We go home and get a bit of rest. Two murders have been cleared up; that’ll satisfy the Super for the time being. I’ve got a few things I need to sort out at home. I need to clean up the mess those bastards left and I need to fetch Theakston from the pub. There’s one thing you can help me with though if you’ve got time.”

  Whitton laughed.

  “I’ve got all the time in the world,” she said, “You should know that, I’m a real sad case. What is it?”

  “Help me find the people who stole my guitar.”

  “They took the Fender?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Then we’ll find it, there can’t be many guitars like that around.”

  “Thanks Whitton.”

  “You’re forgetting something sir,” Whitton said nervously.

  “What’s that?”

  “That guy who gave me his card at New Year.”

  “Whitey?”

  “That’s him. Aren’t you going to contact him? He said he would only be in the country for a few weeks.”

  Smith’s expression changed. His eyes were open but they did not seem to see anything; they were staring far in the distance.

  “That, I’ll have to think about,” he said finally, “now go home and get some rest.”