–’
‘I heard about Anna,’ the solicitor said in a low voice as he took his seat beside his client. ‘Sit down. I’m sorry, Piers. I never met her, of course, but it’s a terrible shock all the same. Such a young girl. How are you?’
Piers shook his head vigorously.
‘How the hell do you think I am? First Anna, now they want to lock me up. I was in a cell last night! That can’t be legal.’
‘Don’t worry, Piers. We’ll have you out of here in no time,’ his solicitor assured him.
He sounded very confident.
‘But have you heard about the van?’ Piers muttered.
The solicitor hushed him.
‘All in good time, Piers. Don’t say anything. Leave this to me. I’ll sort it out.’
‘That’s what I pay you for.’
‘We’ll soon have you out of here. They can’t hold you.’
G eraldine interrupted their subdued exchange to go through the lengthy process of initiating the interview. On television this would be conducted in a matter of seconds. Real life formal police interviews weren’t so quick and easy to set up. At last she finished the detailed introductory rigmarole, Piers had given his full name, the solicitor and attendant police officers had been announced, and they were ready to begin.
‘Mr Trevelyan, can you tell me where you were between one and three on Saturday morning?’
He flung himself dramatically back in his chair, and ran his hands through his hair.
‘Oh Jesus Christ, do we really have to go through this all over again? I’ve already answered that question. Check your notes, or did you forget to keep any?’
G eraldine kept her voice even. She stared directly at Piers.
‘Mr Trevelyan, a young woman died on Friday night –’
‘I’m painfully aware of that,’ he interjected. ‘Anna. My girlfriend. Some arsehole used my van to cause an accident that killed her. She’s dead. This might be all in a day’s work for you, but she was my girlfriend. I happened to love Anna, very much. So I’d like to go home and begin the process of grieving, in private.’
He stood up.
‘Mr Trevelyan, please sit down. We haven’t finished.’
‘You may not have finished, but I have.’
‘Piers –’
The solicitor put a restraining hand on Piers’ arm and nodded at the chair, gesturing to him to sit down again.
‘The police have to ask questions. The quicker we get through this interview, the sooner you’ll be going home.’
He turned to Geraldine.
‘My client is prepared to co-operate in any way he can to help you find the driver who is responsible for this accident.’
Geraldine inclined her head.
‘Thank you.’
P iers shrugged his shoulders.
‘Look, this has all been a huge shock. I don’t want to seem unhelpful, but you have to accept there’s nothing I can tell you about whoever was driving my van on Friday night. Do you think I wouldn’t help you if I could? You think I don’t care about what happened to Anna?’ He took a deep shuddering breath. ‘Someone must have stolen the van and driven her off the road. Presumably he was off his face on drugs. It was nothing to do with me.’
‘The person who killed her was driving your van,’ Geraldine pointed out.
‘Well, I can’t be responsible for whoever was driving my van, can I?’
‘Unless it was you at the wheel.’
‘Oh for goodness sake –’
‘My client has already stated he was at home, in bed, at the time the accident occurred,’ the solicitor reminded her.
He gave Piers a warning glance.
G eraldine turned to another line of questioning.
‘You’re telling us that a person or persons unknown stole your van from the street outside your house and followed Anna on Friday night. Can you think of anyone who might have done that?’
‘A lot of maniacs might have stolen my van from the drive and followed her, just because of who she is – was. She drove men wild.’
‘Was she being stalked?’
‘God, yes, of course she was. Don’t be naive. It goes with the territory. She was a
‘I heard about Anna,’ the solicitor said in a low voice as he took his seat beside his client. ‘Sit down. I’m sorry, Piers. I never met her, of course, but it’s a terrible shock all the same. Such a young girl. How are you?’
Piers shook his head vigorously.
‘How the hell do you think I am? First Anna, now they want to lock me up. I was in a cell last night! That can’t be legal.’
‘Don’t worry, Piers. We’ll have you out of here in no time,’ his solicitor assured him.
He sounded very confident.
‘But have you heard about the van?’ Piers muttered.
The solicitor hushed him.
‘All in good time, Piers. Don’t say anything. Leave this to me. I’ll sort it out.’
‘That’s what I pay you for.’
‘We’ll soon have you out of here. They can’t hold you.’
G eraldine interrupted their subdued exchange to go through the lengthy process of initiating the interview. On television this would be conducted in a matter of seconds. Real life formal police interviews weren’t so quick and easy to set up. At last she finished the detailed introductory rigmarole, Piers had given his full name, the solicitor and attendant police officers had been announced, and they were ready to begin.
‘Mr Trevelyan, can you tell me where you were between one and three on Saturday morning?’
He flung himself dramatically back in his chair, and ran his hands through his hair.
‘Oh Jesus Christ, do we really have to go through this all over again? I’ve already answered that question. Check your notes, or did you forget to keep any?’
G eraldine kept her voice even. She stared directly at Piers.
‘Mr Trevelyan, a young woman died on Friday night –’
‘I’m painfully aware of that,’ he interjected. ‘Anna. My girlfriend. Some arsehole used my van to cause an accident that killed her. She’s dead. This might be all in a day’s work for you, but she was my girlfriend. I happened to love Anna, very much. So I’d like to go home and begin the process of grieving, in private.’
He stood up.
‘Mr Trevelyan, please sit down. We haven’t finished.’
‘You may not have finished, but I have.’
‘Piers –’
The solicitor put a restraining hand on Piers’ arm and nodded at the chair, gesturing to him to sit down again.
‘The police have to ask questions. The quicker we get through this interview, the sooner you’ll be going home.’
He turned to Geraldine.
‘My client is prepared to co-operate in any way he can to help you find the driver who is responsible for this accident.’
Geraldine inclined her head.
‘Thank you.’
P iers shrugged his shoulders.
‘Look, this has all been a huge shock. I don’t want to seem unhelpful, but you have to accept there’s nothing I can tell you about whoever was driving my van on Friday night. Do you think I wouldn’t help you if I could? You think I don’t care about what happened to Anna?’ He took a deep shuddering breath. ‘Someone must have stolen the van and driven her off the road. Presumably he was off his face on drugs. It was nothing to do with me.’
‘The person who killed her was driving your van,’ Geraldine pointed out.
‘Well, I can’t be responsible for whoever was driving my van, can I?’
‘Unless it was you at the wheel.’
‘Oh for goodness sake –’
‘My client has already stated he was at home, in bed, at the time the accident occurred,’ the solicitor reminded her.
He gave Piers a warning glance.
G eraldine turned to another line of questioning.
‘You’re telling us that a person or persons unknown stole your van from the street outside your house and followed Anna on Friday night. Can you think of anyone who might have done that?’
‘A lot of maniacs might have stolen my van from the drive and followed her, just because of who she is – was. She drove men wild.’
‘Was she being stalked?’
‘God, yes, of course she was. Don’t be naive. It goes with the territory. She was a
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