Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

court. The promises I made to myself that I’m going to be the best mother possible for Jack, and put what I can right, have turned to dust. “Will I get sent to prison?” My voice is smaller now. It’s the first time I’ve seriously contemplated it, since getting arrested two days ago.

“You could. However, if it’s the assault charge, and you show remorse, which you evidently feel, they’ll be more lenient with you.”

“I’m thinking of starting Antabuse tablets to combat the drink addiction, once and for all. AA hasn’t worked.”

“That will go in your favour.” He writes something again. “The best-case scenario will be a suspended sentence. They might make alcohol rehabilitation part of the conditions. There could be some victim awareness and community service as well.”

“It’s better than going to prison. Now that my husband’s dead, I’m a single mum.”

“I know, and that too will be in your favour. Like I mentioned, I took some information from your dad when I spoke to him the other day.” He slaps his pen on top of his notepad. “Right, that’s that. They probably won’t say too much about the assault today. You’ve already been interviewed and charged. Though, you should have been in touch with me to attend that interview with you.”

“I know.” We both glance towards the door of the interview room in response to an altercation going on in the custody suite.

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking pervert,” a male voice yells. There’s a load of banging and further raised voices. God, I can’t believe I’m in this place. I glance around the putrid green walls and once again, long to turn the clock back. Just one week. Things could be so different.

Alan clears his throat. “Anyway, we are where we are. If you get charged with the other matter, all the charges will probably get brought and dealt with together.”

We are where we are. He makes it sound as though we are in it together. I pick at the fragments of polish on a mis-shaped fingernail. I look a right state at the moment. It feels as though there is no point in anything anymore. There wasn’t that much point before either. Rob never noticed me anyway. How could I ever compete with Bryony Rose?

“I understand from your dad that you don’t have an alibi for the morning your husband died? Last Monday at ten thirty?”

As he says last Monday out loud, I can hardly believe that nearly a week has passed. “That’s right. I haven’t. I was just at home, ironing. I always do it on a Monday.”

“Is there anyone who knows this is your normal routine, even if they can’t vouch for that day?”

“No, not really. I’ve only got one real friend on the street. I only really know the neighbours to say hello to. I prefer to keep myself to myself.”

“OK. At this stage, I’m unsure what evidence they have on you in relation to your husband’s death. I guess we will get the full picture during the interview.”

“DI Green was accusing me of having taken my Jeep into a garage in Ilkley. It was at eleven o’clock that morning, to replace a tyre. Apparently the mechanic took my details for the service invoice. But is wasn’t me who gave them.”

Alan frowns. “I see. Do you think someone could be setting you up?”

“I’ve absolutely no idea. All I know is my Jeep was parked up outside my house and I was busy at home.”

“Do you have any CCTV at home, or a dashcam perhaps?”

I shake my head. Rob, who always liked gadgets, had been on about getting both.

“What about your neighbours? If we can prove your car was outside your home at the times in question, you’ve nothing to answer.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, it’s worth asking them. You never know. We’ll see exactly what evidence the police have got when they come in. Until we know that, you are at liberty to make no comment responses, if they are making accusations without evidence, particularly if you cannot defend them.”

“Won’t that go against me, saying no comment?” I feel calm, despite the circumstances. “I thought I could only say that without a solicitor.” I should be a nervous wreck. I still feel anaesthetised.

“Not at all. It’s better than blurting something which you later regret. These police interviews can be highly pressured. Of course, if you want to discuss a question prior to answering, you can request time to talk to me alone. The police will have to pause the tape and leave the room.”

“Will I be able to leave here after the interview?”

“Hopefully. It depends on what new evidence they’ve got. You’re not here under arrest.”

“Well, they didn’t have enough on Friday to charge me. So hopefully that’s still the case.”

* * *

No alibi.

A tendency to drink.

A charge of violence.

An anger over lack of return on investment.

The evidence is stacking up.

Chapter 31

DI Green does the interview preliminaries for the recording. I feel reassured by Alan Wright’s presence. Less alone.

“Fiona, when we spoke last week, you denied all knowledge of having taken your car to Hill End Garage in Ilkley for a nearside tyre replacement. This is despite a statement being made, giving details of a woman being there on the Monday seventh of June at eleven am. She matches your description, and gave your personal details, right down to your registration number.”

I don’t like the way she repeatedly uses the word your. I’m unsure how to answer, or whether to say no comment. Luckily, Alan wades in.

“I take it,” he says, “that it would have been the nearside of the vehicle that hit Mr Matherson, when the incident in question took place, if he was cycling on the left of the road.”

He’s got such a way with words, Alan has, describing Rob’s death as the other matter, or the incident in question. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or amused by him. This is no time for either. This is serious stuff.

“That