Chapter 3
890 Words
3 Saturday 4 August, 11.02am.
The car comes to a stop in the gated car park of the police station. It goes quiet for a moment, before my door opens and a hand reaches in to help me out.
I’m taken through into an area which I can only describe as bleak. The stifling summer atmosphere aside, everything about it feels cold. There’s a deep musty smell, pierced with the sharp tang of disinfectant.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. Who do we have here?’ the man behind the desk says. I open my mouth to answer, but one of the police officers gets there first.
‘This is Mrs Amy Walker.’
‘Amy Walker. And the charge?’
‘Sus murder. I was sent to Mrs Walker’s home address to arrest her following an incident at an address in Missingham Drive earlier this morning, in which a man died.’
‘Sus murder,’ the man says, as if suspected murder is the most normal thing in the world, as he types into his computer. ‘Okay, Amy. Have you been arrested before?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Of course not.’
‘Okay. Do you understand why you’ve been arrested?’
‘Uh, sort of.’ I know what they’re saying, but it doesn’t make any sense. ‘I didn’t do anything to anyone. I haven’t been anywhere near Roger’s house. I’ve been at home all morning.’ My head is pounding.
‘Okay, we can save all that for the formal interview. For now I just need to make sure you understand that you’ve been arrested on suspicion of murder.’ He looks at me, waiting for me to answer.
‘Yes. I think so.’
‘Alright.’ He points to a laminated sheet of paper on the wall. ‘This notice here tells you all about your rights. You’re entitled to regular breaks for food and to use the toilet. I presume you don’t require the services of a translator. Do you have any health conditions we should be aware of?’
I shake my head.
‘And how are you feeling at the moment?’
‘Confused.’
‘Confused,’ he says, typing it into the computer. ‘You’re entitled to free legal advice if you want it. Do you have a solicitor?’
‘Uh, yes. No. I don’t know. I’d… I’d call Roger and ask him to sort something out.’
‘Roger being…?’
‘My father in law.’
‘The victim,’ one of the other officers clarifies.
‘Ah. Well, in that case I think we can safely say that’s not practical. Would you like us to arrange for you to see the duty solicitor?’
It feels like a thousand drills are boring through my skull. ‘Uh, I don’t know. Do I need one? I haven’t done anything.’
‘Well, it’s your decision to make, but you have just been arrested on suspicion of murder. If it was me, I think I’d probably want some legal advice.’
I nod. ‘Okay.’
‘Now, is there anyone you want us to call to let them know where you are? Your next of kin? A friend, perhaps?’
I haven’t even thought about this. Brendan and the boys will be home in a couple of hours. How on earth am I meant to explain this to them? I can only hope that it’s all sorted out before then. Surely they’ve got to realise pretty quickly there’s been some sort of mistake.
‘I don’t know. My husband.’
One of the officers who arrested me speaks to the man behind the desk. ‘We’d need to tread carefully there. Mr Walker is the son of the deceased. We’ve not been able to track him down yet, and that probably isn’t going to be the best way for him to find out.’
‘Quite. Is there a friend we can call, Amy?’
‘No. Just Brendan.’
‘Do you know where he is?’ one of the arresting officers asks me.
‘Yeah. At the football pitches on the other side of the village. Harry and Jacob, our sons, play football every Saturday morning. He’ll be there with them until lunchtime.’
‘Do you have a photo of him?’
‘Uh. Yeah. There’ll be some on my phone. Why?’
‘We’ll need to go and speak to him. He probably won’t be aware of any of this yet.’
‘But you can’t tell him. You can’t tell him his dad’s dead. He’s not. He can’t be. You’ll upset him. And then when you realise you’re wrong it’ll… Just don’t!’
‘Mrs Walker, if you want us to call someone else to let them know where you are, we can, but either way we have to inform Mr Walker that his father has died. He’s Roger’s next of kin since your mother-in-law died, yes?’
‘Well yes, but… How did you know that? How do you know Belinda’s dead?’
‘Where is your phone, Amy?’ the man behind the desk asks.
I rub my temples. ‘Uh, I lost it.’
‘You lost it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So you don’t have a mobile phone?’
‘I do, but I lost it. I don’t know where it is.’
The police officers share a look. ‘I presume there are photos of your husband in your house?’ one of the arresting officers asks.
‘Yeah. Of course. Look, can someone please tell me what’s going on? This is insane!’
‘All in good time,’ the man behind the desk says. ‘You’ll get the chance to ask questions and answer them in your interview. We’ll pop her in F3, chaps.’
There’s an arm on my shoulder before I realise what’s happening. I can barely breathe, but I try to force the words out.
‘Wait. I need to speak to someone. What’s going on? What’s happened? Why are you doing this to me?’
The police officer ignores my questions and guides me into a bright room.
- Writer
