Copyright Oggbashan June 2004
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Story so far:
Paul, driving a back road on Romney Marsh at night, found a crashed Porsche with Julia in the driver's seat naked, drunk and barely conscious. He rescued her, looked after her overnight, and bought her some clothes in a charity shop in the morning. She had been fleeing from a man she had intended to spend the weekend with. He had staged a strip poker game so that she was naked. All her clothes were locked in an old chest she couldn't open. When she saw him adding liquid from a small bottle to her champagne she had grabbed his car keys and had driven off in his car.
Paul intended to take Julia to his ex-wife Emma. When he rang Emma she told him that the police were looking for Julia because the man had been found dead. Paul and Julia decided they needed a solicitor before going to the police...
Chapter 02
I rang Emma's solicitor. He wasn't too pleased at being disturbed on a Saturday morning. I suspected that his displeasure would be reflected in the size of his account. He arranged to meet us in a car park near Ashford Police Station in an hour. We left the car park and headed for Ashford. I turned the car radio to the local station. The travel news reported congestion because of a fatal accident near Hythe. I checked that we would be avoiding that area. The news item was repeated every quarter of an hour. The man had been found 'dead'. The woman was asked to contact the police. Everything else was waffle.
I had met the solicitor once or twice. He had been on Emma's side, so our contact hadn't always been cordial, but professional. He had seemed competent. He was standing beside his Bentley in the car park. The Bentley worried me. If he could afford a Bentley, his fees must be high. He greeted me as if we were old acquaintances. I suppose we were.
We sat on the car park wall while Julia and I explained everything that had happened last night and this morning. He asked a few questions. Then he rang the police station fifty yards away. He told them that the woman they were seeking was coming voluntarily to the Police Station.
We entered the normal public entrance. A sergeant opened a door for us and we were shown to an interview room. An inspector and a woman sergeant entered the room. I was asked to wait in another interview room. I left Julia and the solicitor. Her look as I left wrenched my heart. Until then I hadn't realised how much she had come to mean to me in a few short hours.
I waited in that bare room for about three-quarters of an hour before the two police officers entered. They taped the interview. I told them everything from the meeting on Friday evening until my arrival at the police station. I was slightly annoyed that the solicitor wasn't with me, but Julia needed him more than I did.
They asked a couple of questions about the Porsche, and a few others, presumably to check that I was telling them the truth. They referred to the dead man as 'Mr Smith' or 'the deceased'. I had the feeling they were trying to trap me into saying his first name. They didn't get anywhere because I didn't know it. Julia hadn't mentioned his name. The woman sergeant helped me to write a statement that I checked and signed. At the end the inspector said:
"Thank you, sir. I think we have enough information. We may be in touch again. You may be called to give evidence at the inquest but probably not."
"Why not?" I asked.
"It looks like suicide so far. There is still a possibility that we may be wrong but everything points that way. We have been concerned about that man for some time. Your young lady seems to have made a fortunate escape. We have your address. Please don't leave the country without telling us."
"Is she free to go?"
"Yes. She's waiting for you."
I collected Julia and we left. Once round the corner of the building she threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.
"What was that for?" I asked as we climbed into my car and started towards Canterbury.
"For being here for me. The interview was unpleasant. They seemed to think I had something to do with Joshua's death. The details were upsetting..."
"Joshua?" I interrupted. "Joshua Smith?"
"Yes. Didn't I mention his name?"
"No," I said grimly. "Just as well you didn't. I think I know him. I certainly know of a Joshua Smith. What did he look like?"
"He had light brown hair, short for a man - about my height but more muscular... The obvious visible identification was a small tattoo of a dragon breathing fire on the back of his right hand. He had a couple of other tattoos but normally they would be under his clothing."
"A swallow on his left shoulder, and an eagle on his lower back?"
"Yes, Paul. How did YOU know him?"
"He was the man that Emma left me for. No wonder the police wanted me to say his name. I haven't seen him for two years. I understood that he had moved away. I had better tell Emma before the police go to her. They will. I think I need a solicitor as well as you. I may be a suspect if Joshua was murdered."
"The police think it was suicide."
"That's what they have told us. The post mortem hasn't been finished yet. Who knows what they might find? We don't know because I haven't seen him for two years and when you left him he was alive. What happened later? We don't know."
"OK. You should ring Emma. You promised to let her know what happened."