Convictions — Excerpt from Chapter Three
George Cotter didn’t look like a child abductor. Then again, in DI Karen Fitzgerald’s experience, people rarely revealed the monster within. He had been dealt with by the custody officer on his arrival at the station and she now had him sweating in the interview room, a grubby space with one small window, and that too high up to afford a view of freedom. She looked at her watch: he’d been in there about twenty minutes, no laces in his shoes, inky fingertips reminding him of his guilt.
She nodded to her colleague. ‘Come on then, let’s go and see what he has to say for himself.’ They went into the room and, once the preliminaries had been dealt with, Fitzgerald got on with the business of the day.
‘Mr Cotter, I’m DI Karen Fitzgerald and this is DC Robert Winter. Do you understand why you’re here?’
Cotter nodded. He looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. ‘The car. You found something in my car.’
‘Your car has been provisionally identified as the vehicle used in the abduction of a child on Saturday night.’
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Can you tell me where you were between the hours of ten p.m. on Saturday night and two a.m. on Sunday morning?’
‘I was at home with my wife. We went to bed about ten o’clock.’
‘Is that usual, sir?’
‘Yes. We have a cup of Horlicks around half past nine, then put the mugs in the sink and go to bed. We’ve always done that. For years.’
‘And your wife will be able to confirm this?’
‘Well … yes. Yes, of course she will.’
Yes, thought Fitzgerald, of course she will. Guaranteed. The wives always bloody did. ‘The officers who called at your house found a T-shirt in the back of your car. Can you tell me how it got there?’
‘I have no idea. I had never seen it before, never even heard of the pop group concerned.’
‘When was the last time you used your car, sir?’
‘What?’
‘Your car, sir. When did you last drive it anywhere.’
‘Let me see … that would have been when I came home from work on Friday night. I work at the Civic Centre. In accounts.’
‘Did you go out over the weekend?’
Cotter picked at his ear. ‘We had planned to go to the town on Saturday. We need a new pressure cooker and there’s a sale on at Debenhams, but Joyce didn’t feel well. By the time Sunday morning came, she was full of cold.’
Fitzgerald nodded: that tallied with what Atkinson and Cross had told her.
‘So I went to church on my own.’
‘What time was that?’
‘I left around ten.’
‘And you didn’t drive to church, sir?’
‘No, no need, it’s just around the corner. Walking distance.’
‘Which church?’
‘The Ebenezer Tabernacle.’
‘We’ll need the details of anyone who can confirm you were there.’
‘Everyone there knows me. I’m the treasurer, have been for years.’
‘What time did you get home after church?’
‘Just after noon. I stayed to chat with the pastor when the service was over. Just for a short while, because of Joyce being ill. I haven’t been out since.’
‘No work today, sir?’
Cotter shook his head. ‘No, no. I rang in and arranged a couple of days off so I could look after Joyce. She’s really very poorly, she needs me.’ He looked at Fitzgerald, his eyes pleading, his hands open in a matching gesture. ‘She needs me,’ he repeated.
‘She’s fine, sir, there’s someone with her.’
‘A nurse?’
‘A policewoman.’
‘Oh, goodness! What on earth will people think?’ Cotter’s hands flew to his face.
‘What people think is the least of your worries, sir. May I remind you that you are here because your car has been identified as the vehicle used in a child abduction and the T-shirt we found in the back is identical to one bought by one of the girls involved.’
‘Girls? I thought you said one girl.’
‘Two were abducted initially, but one escaped.’ Fitzgerald didn’t understand the lie. ‘Are you claiming not to know about this, sir? It’s been all over the news, in the papers …’
‘We very rarely watch television,’ Cotter explained. ‘I don’t like it very much. I think it’s a bad influence on people. The things they show …’
Fitzgerald conceded the point. Half the stuff on the box these days was pure rubbish. ‘No computer?’
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Oh, no. I use one at work, of course, but I don’t use the Internet.’
‘What about the church accounts? You said you were treasurer.’
‘All on paper. Real books of account, kept the traditional way.’ He straightened up in his chair as he said this, held his head high.
‘And you haven’t seen a newspaper either?’
‘I would have done if I’d been to work. I buy the Daily Mail from the newsagent on Sea Road every morning. But I didn’t … I stayed home to … oh, Joyce! Can I see Joyce? I miss my wife, I want to see her.’
‘That won’t be possible, sir. You’ll be held here in custody while our investigation progresses.’
Cotter visibly sagged in the chair when he was told that. ‘Held? Custody? Where?’
‘In a cell, sir.’
‘Like a criminal?’
‘Exactly like a criminal, sir.’
She nodded to her colleague. ‘Come on then, let’s go and see what he has to say for himself.’ They went into the room and, once the preliminaries had been dealt with, Fitzgerald got on with the business of the day.
‘Mr Cotter, I’m DI Karen Fitzgerald and this is DC Robert Winter. Do you understand why you’re here?’
Cotter nodded. He looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. ‘The car. You found something in my car.’
‘Your car has been provisionally identified as the vehicle used in the abduction of a child on Saturday night.’
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Can you tell me where you were between the hours of ten p.m. on Saturday night and two a.m. on Sunday morning?’
‘I was at home with my wife. We went to bed about ten o’clock.’
‘Is that usual, sir?’
‘Yes. We have a cup of Horlicks around half past nine, then put the mugs in the sink and go to bed. We’ve always done that. For years.’
‘And your wife will be able to confirm this?’
‘Well … yes. Yes, of course she will.’
Yes, thought Fitzgerald, of course she will. Guaranteed. The wives always bloody did. ‘The officers who called at your house found a T-shirt in the back of your car. Can you tell me how it got there?’
‘I have no idea. I had never seen it before, never even heard of the pop group concerned.’
‘When was the last time you used your car, sir?’
‘What?’
‘Your car, sir. When did you last drive it anywhere.’
‘Let me see … that would have been when I came home from work on Friday night. I work at the Civic Centre. In accounts.’
‘Did you go out over the weekend?’
Cotter picked at his ear. ‘We had planned to go to the town on Saturday. We need a new pressure cooker and there’s a sale on at Debenhams, but Joyce didn’t feel well. By the time Sunday morning came, she was full of cold.’
Fitzgerald nodded: that tallied with what Atkinson and Cross had told her.
‘So I went to church on my own.’
‘What time was that?’
‘I left around ten.’
‘And you didn’t drive to church, sir?’
‘No, no need, it’s just around the corner. Walking distance.’
‘Which church?’
‘The Ebenezer Tabernacle.’
‘We’ll need the details of anyone who can confirm you were there.’
‘Everyone there knows me. I’m the treasurer, have been for years.’
‘What time did you get home after church?’
‘Just after noon. I stayed to chat with the pastor when the service was over. Just for a short while, because of Joyce being ill. I haven’t been out since.’
‘No work today, sir?’
Cotter shook his head. ‘No, no. I rang in and arranged a couple of days off so I could look after Joyce. She’s really very poorly, she needs me.’ He looked at Fitzgerald, his eyes pleading, his hands open in a matching gesture. ‘She needs me,’ he repeated.
‘She’s fine, sir, there’s someone with her.’
‘A nurse?’
‘A policewoman.’
‘Oh, goodness! What on earth will people think?’ Cotter’s hands flew to his face.
‘What people think is the least of your worries, sir. May I remind you that you are here because your car has been identified as the vehicle used in a child abduction and the T-shirt we found in the back is identical to one bought by one of the girls involved.’
‘Girls? I thought you said one girl.’
‘Two were abducted initially, but one escaped.’ Fitzgerald didn’t understand the lie. ‘Are you claiming not to know about this, sir? It’s been all over the news, in the papers …’
‘We very rarely watch television,’ Cotter explained. ‘I don’t like it very much. I think it’s a bad influence on people. The things they show …’
Fitzgerald conceded the point. Half the stuff on the box these days was pure rubbish. ‘No computer?’
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Oh, no. I use one at work, of course, but I don’t use the Internet.’
‘What about the church accounts? You said you were treasurer.’
‘All on paper. Real books of account, kept the traditional way.’ He straightened up in his chair as he said this, held his head high.
‘And you haven’t seen a newspaper either?’
‘I would have done if I’d been to work. I buy the Daily Mail from the newsagent on Sea Road every morning. But I didn’t … I stayed home to … oh, Joyce! Can I see Joyce? I miss my wife, I want to see her.’
‘That won’t be possible, sir. You’ll be held here in custody while our investigation progresses.’
Cotter visibly sagged in the chair when he was told that. ‘Held? Custody? Where?’
‘In a cell, sir.’
‘Like a criminal?’
‘Exactly like a criminal, sir.’
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