Page 20 of The Tapes
‘There are other partials on the gun,’ Zoe says.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Sorry, fingerprints. Your mother’s prints are a complete match, but there are other partials on the weapon. Parts of a finger or thumb, but there’s no match to anyone in our system. It means somebody else held the gun at some point, but we don’t know who.’
Oh. I now see where this is going. The next question feels so obvious that I’m annoyed at myself for not seeing it coming.
‘Haveyouever owned a gun?’ Zoe asks.
Detective Sergeant Coxasks. I remind myself she is not my friend.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘It’s just… with your previous issues and the record you have…?’
It’s not quite a question, but perhaps it is. When DS Cox checked my mother’s file earlier, she also had a look at mine.
‘That was a long time ago,’ I say. This is so out of the blue, it feels as if I’ve been walloped in the chest.
‘I know,’ Cox replies, although it doesn’t feel as if she does.
‘I’ve been clean for over seven years,’ I add. ‘You can ask my sponsor. You can test me.’
‘We don’t need to do any of that,’ she replies – but there’s a coldness there now and I’m furious at myself for not realising this is how things would go.
‘I needed to ask,’ she says.
I can’t stop talking, even though I know I should. ‘I’ve never even held a gun, let alone owned one,’ I’m saying. ‘I wouldn’t know where to buy one.’
Cox catches my eye, holds it for a moment, and then nods. I don’t think she believes me.
‘My fingerprints are in your system. If those partials were mine, you’d have a match.’
The officer’s lips are pressed together as I realise – again too late – that she already checked the prints against mine. I’ve been such an idiot. Despite everything, I somehow walked right into this. Even bringing me to the staff canteen was part of it. Nothing’s recorded, and I’m not under caution – but that doesn’t mean a person can’t say something stupid.
Cox waits, likely expecting me to talk myself into trouble because, for some reason, I apparently lack the will to keep my gob shut. It’s closed now, though.
‘Is there anything else you want to ask?’ she says.
It feels like a loaded question now – but DS Cox doesn’t know how much I might have. There’s a tape from my mother in which she admits she’s a serial thief, who stole a jewellery box that contains the missing earrings taken by a serial killer. Oh, and that personmighthave killed her, although those murders stopped at the exact time Mum disappeared.
I’d have struggled to say all that, even if it wasn’t for the other obvious lies and brags on the tape. Mum never robbed a bank, she never stole next door’s car – and, maybe, she never found that jewellery box, either. Maybe she made upallof it.
Icouldsay all that, except: ‘I don’t think so,’ I reply instead.
Cox waits a moment, then sips her tea. Mine remains untouched. ‘There’s no rush,’ she says, nodding to the mug. ‘I can show you out when you’re ready.’ She has another mouthful and then adds: ‘We might need to talk to your daughter at some point – and her friend.’
‘Why?’
‘We got a brief statement from them yesterday about where they found the weapon – but the fingerprints might changethings. You have to admit it’s quite the coincidence that your daughter found a discarded weapon that somehow has the fingerprints of her missing grandmother.’
I’d somehow missed that but Cox is correct. No wonder the police invited me for a face-to-face talk. Faith is underage and would need a parent to be present for any questioning. None of that applies to me, except it wasn’t me who found the gun, nor my prints. They’re confused and fishing. They think I know more than I do.
If Mum was reliable and honest, this would all be so much easier. I swing from believing she found that jewellery box, to thinking it a flight of fancy, just like the claimed bank robbery. Except, if I can find the box, it’ll at least prove part of what she said on the tape happened. Perhaps it’s at Dad’s house, somewhere among the rest that needs to be cleared.
Perhaps.
I don’t know where to look – but as I sit, wilting under Detective Sergeant Cox’s gaze, it occurs I might know someone who does.
