A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

Six

The interview room at Carlisle’s Durranhill police station wasn’t in the best of conditions, but at least it was fit for purpose and had the necessary audio and visual recording equipment.

It was a nuisance for the FMIT to have to travel to a different building every time they wanted to conduct an interview, but they were a roving team and, as such, tended to conduct their interviews in the nearest station to wherever their suspects lived. Their base in Carleton Hall was purely because the top brass wanted FMIT in the same building as them.

Carleton Hall was a former manor house on the outskirts of Penrith and had been used as the police headquarters since being purchased in the 1950s. More an administration centre than an operational station, apart from the FMIT, the Roads Policing Unit had their garages in the outbuildings at the rear of the south-facing building. The frontage of the building was dominated by two semi-octagonal bay windows and the rooms they belonged to had been claimed by those furthest up the ranks.

To Beth, Carleton Hall was an ugly building as she only ever saw the functional rear, rather than the decorative front. She knew it was a mistake on her part, but as much as she loved the prestige which accompanied those who worked out of Carleton Hall, she also despised the fact that the building was unattractive and its systems were all make-do-and-mend.

Where other teams around the county had purpose-built offices, with all the relevant communications systems installed as a matter of course, Carleton Hall had been adapted on a regular basis for the best part of seventy years. Every new technological advance, such as the intranet and Internet, saw a different bunch of cables and sockets being added to a house that was first wired for electricity more than a century ago.

It had been decreed by O’Dowd that she and Beth would have the first contact with Forster and their interview would be followed up by one featuring DS Thompson and the final member of FMIT, DC Paul Unthank. O’Dowd had explained her reasoning and it had made sense to Beth. Lots of rapes were about the rapist’s power over the victim and by having the two women go first, it would unbalance the mayor by not having the power in the room.

The biggest issue Beth had with the plan was whether the tactic was subtle enough to trip up someone who’d thrown themselves into political life. It was an open secret that when Forster’s two years as mayor were over, he intended to run for MP.

She expected the man to be difficult to pin down and that he’d try and charm his way out of the situation. He maybe wouldn’t lie, but Beth was expecting a war of words that would be a series of thrusts and parries from both sides.

As she pulled into the car park, she prepared her mind for an interview that she expected to be fascinating and frustrating in equal measure.

Seven

When Beth followed O’Dowd into the interview room the first thing she noticed was Forster’s lawyer.

Someone in Forster’s position in life didn’t settle for the duty solicitor, they used their phone call to summon their lawyer. Forster’s lawyer was a Mancunian who’d moved to Carlisle and established his own practice in record time.

Neville Vaughan was the kind of lawyer the police dreaded going up against: he knew every trick in the book and while he may have a cultured air about him, he was quite happy to get down and dirty when the need arose. His practice specialised in criminal law and she knew she should have expected that Forster would use him.

O’Dowd recited the names of those present and the reason for the interview for the benefit of the recording equipment and then fixed Forster with an enquiring stare.

‘Before we begin, Inspector, my client would like to state for the record that he is an innocent man and that he will do everything in his power to prove that to you.’

‘Thank you, Mr Vaughan. Your client’s cooperation will ensure this process is carried out as smoothly and quickly as possible. I should, though, like to point something out in return.’ O’Dowd pointed her pen in Forster’s general direction. ‘Almost everybody who sits in that seat says they’re not guilty and that they’ll do anything to prove it.’

‘Touché, Inspector. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?’ If Vaughan’s smile had been any oilier, Greenpeace would be protesting about the pollution he was causing. ‘You have made an as yet unfounded allegation against Mayor Forster. The burden of proof lies with you, and as my client is innocent, you will not find the necessary evidence to charge him, let alone proceed with a prosecution.’

‘That’s the whole point of this interview. To establish your client’s innocence. Or guilt, whichever is appropriate.’ O’Dowd turned to look at Forster. ‘The evidence we’ve uncovered tells us that you raped and murdered four women. In order they are: Christine Peterson who was murdered and raped five years ago; Joanne Armstrong, three and a half years ago, Harriet Quantrell, almost two years past, and finally, Felicia Evans.’

Forster’s face scrunched in concentration. ‘You think I’m responsible for poor Harriet’s death? You presumably know she interned for me for a fortnight as part of her college course when I was deputy mayor? I didn’t kill or rape her, I went to her funeral for God’s sake.’

Beth hadn’t expected Forster to be so open. She’d thought he be guarded with his answers and that there would be a lot more verbal fencing before they got to this point.

As O’Dowd hadn’t answered, Beth decided to enter the conversation. ‘You’re right, we do know she was your intern. She was twenty-two years old and three weeks away from being married when she was abducted, raped and then murdered. Her daughter was six weeks old at the time.’ Beth slid a piece of paper across the