Page 6 of Too Busy for Love

‘Why did you have all that cash on you when we arrested you?’

‘It was my birthday present from Madame!’ I’m aware that I’m raising my voice to match his, and I remind myself to keep calm and not wind them up.

‘Here’s the problem, Beatrice. I don’t believe a word you’re saying,’ DS Hollis counters. ‘In your own words, you’ve just told us that there are a number of aspects of this so-called “hotel” that should have raised red flags, but you expect us to believe you didn’t suspect anything untoward was going on? You’re either fantastically naïve or an accomplished liar. Which is it?’

I’m aware of the tears starting to fall down my cheeks as I look at them imploringly. ‘I didn’t know a thing, I promise,’ I tell them.

‘Interview terminated,’ he sighs eventually. ‘Time is six forty-five. Wait here, Beatrice, until the custody officer comes to take you back to your cell.’ They both stand, and the door clicks softly behind them, leaving me alone in the room again.

For the first time, it dawns on me quite how much trouble I’m in. Stupid, arrogant Beatrice, thinking the police had made a mistake. I should have asked for a solicitor. I might be telling the truth, but that means nothing if they don’t believe it. I stare atthe cold, untouched cup of tea as the tears pour down my cheeks and drip off my chin.

3

I’ve cried myself out and I must have dozed off, because the clang of the shutter opening starts me awake.

‘Stay well back from the door,’ the same police officer from earlier tells me. We repeat the journey to the interview room and, after a short wait, DS Hollis and DI Winter come in and sit opposite me again.

‘OK,’ DI Winter says. ‘Here is what we’re going to do. DS Hollis and I agree that, although there are a number of holes in your story, it’s not enough to charge you at this point. So we’re going to release you on bail, pending further investigation. What that means is that you will be taken back to your residence by a police officer, and you will surrender your passport to that officer. You must be at your residence between the hours of 7p.m. and 7a.m. Do you understand?’

I’m so relieved that it’s all I can do not to stand and punch the air. ‘Yes,’ I say meekly.

‘You will report back here at 10a.m. next Monday, the twenty-fourth. At that time, we will tell you whether we are going to charge you or not. If you do not keep the conditions ofyour bail, or you fail to report at the time set, we will issue a warrant for your arrest. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I’ll take you to the front desk, where the custody officer will book you out and we’ll return all your possessions apart from your phone. We need to keep that as evidence for the time being. Do you have any questions before we go?’

‘No.’ I’m anxious to get out of here as quickly as possible, before they change their minds. DI Winter leads me back to the desk where I was booked in and, after I’ve signed the forms, my keys and the envelope with my birthday money from Madame is returned.

‘Take a seat over there,’ the custody officer instructs, pointing to a row of chairs by the door. ‘I’ll let you know when the car is here to take you back.’

I do as I’m told and, a few moments later, the door to the custody suite opens and Jock appears. After going through the same process, he sits down next to me.

‘Are you OK?’ he murmurs.

‘I’ve been better. You?’

He sighs. ‘It’s been pretty intense.’

‘Your carriage awaits,’ the custody officer informs us cheerfully, pointing through the glass doorway to an unmarked police car, although the driver’s uniform gives the game away somewhat. ‘We’ll see you next week. Don’t be late.’ He smiles, but I’m not in the mood for humour.

Neither Jock nor I utter a word to each other on the journey back; both of us are lost in our thoughts.

‘I’m going to drop you at the rear entrance,’ the police officer explains as we approach the hotel. ‘Word has got out, as it always does, and there are a number of individuals from the press staking out the front. I suggest you keep a low profile.’

He’s not wrong. As we drive past the hotel, I can see a couple of police officers guarding the front door, and there’s a TV van and a number of people wielding long-lensed cameras on the other side of the road. Unfortunately, they’ve outmanoeuvred us, and there are a few outside the back door as well. No sooner has the car pulled up than cameras are being shoved in our faces and I’m temporarily blinded as the flashes go off. They’re shouting questions but I concentrate on keeping my head down as the police officer bundles us towards the rear entrance. My hands are shaking and it takes me a few goes to get the key in the lock, but then we’re in the kitchen. Such was the speed of our departure that nobody has turned the light off, and we stand there, blinking for a moment or two as our eyes adjust to the brightness.

‘OK,’ the police officer says. ‘I’m going to ask you to accompany me to the lobby and lock the front doors. That will allow our officers to stand down. I will then wait here while you fetch your passports, and I’ll leave you in peace once you’ve surrendered them.’

I normally make a rule of climbing the stairs to my room, telling myself that the exercise is good for me, but I don’t have the energy today, so I insert my key in the slot in the lift that unlocks the top floor, and Jock and I ride up in silence. As soon as I step into my room, I can tell something isn’t right. It looks broadly the same as when I left it this morning, but a few objects are in the wrong places. The police must have searched it, I realise. Thankfully, it only takes me a moment to locate my passport, but I have to wait a few minutes before Jock reappears and we take the lift back down.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘It wasn’t where I thought it was.’

‘Did they search your room too?’

‘It looks like it.’

After handing us a receipt, the police officer warns us again about the curfew, as well as not entering any of the guest bedrooms in case they need to get forensic evidence from them, and then he’s gone and it’s just the two of us.

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