The Perfect Lie, page 14
‘Don’t worry,’ the officer said. ‘You don’t have to be eighteen to drink at home, and I’m not trying to catch you out on that. Do you know where Greg went to try and buy alcohol?’
Amy shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea. He didn’t find anywhere open, and he was only gone a few minutes. He called to say he couldn’t be bothered to keep looking so was coming back.’
‘And how long did Greg stay when he got back?’
‘He stayed over.’
The police officer nodded slowly. ‘How do you know Greg?’
Amy had been waiting for this question. ‘He’s my boyfriend’s best friend.’
‘Your boyfriend being…?’
‘Lewis Hopkins.’
‘And where was Lewis on the night of the fourteenth?’
‘Uh, he’d been to the party with Greg, but he’d gone straight home afterwards. That’s what Greg told me.’
‘On his own?’
‘Yeah, I presume so. I hope so.’
‘But his best friend came over to yours and slept here overnight?’
Amy looked at her. ‘Nothing like that happened, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Not my place to ask, Amy. It just seemed a bit odd, that’s all.’
Amy sighed. ‘Lewis and Greg don’t get on sometimes. Quite a lot, actually. They live together in the flat, but sometimes when they’ve had a couple of drinks they fall out. Lewis just sulks and sits by himself, but I get on really well with Greg.’
‘What’s Lewis like?’ the officer asked.
Amy saw this as a chance to sow a few seeds.
‘Uh, he’s alright, I guess.’
‘You guess?’
‘Well, he gets a bit angry sometimes. You know what men can be like.’
‘Angry how? Violent?’
Amy thought about this for a moment. ‘I dunno. Not to me. Not really. But I’ve always wondered if he could. He just gets so angry about things, and ends up punching walls and stuff. I think that’s why Greg has to get out of the flat sometimes, just to let him calm down.’
‘How often do you see Lewis, Amy?’
Amy shrugged. ‘Every few days or so. We’re not joined at the hip or anything. I’ve not seen him for a few days. He’s been acting a bit weird.’
‘Weird? Weird how?’
‘I dunno. Sort of evasive, I guess. Like something’s wrong but he wouldn’t tell me.’
The police officer nodded. ‘Amy, would you be willing to testify this information in court, if required?’
Amy narrowed her eyes. ‘Uh, yes. That’d be fine. Why? Why would anything be going to court? What’s happened?’
The police officer looked at her and gave her a sympathetic smile.
45
Sunday 5 August, 3.15pm.
It’s odd knowing I’ll only be in this cell for another few hours. Although I hate it here, I know it. Brian comes to me regularly and does what he can to comfort me. The police officers who work in the custody suite have been good to me, too. Not DI McKenna. She can go fuck herself.
I’m absolutely dreading the thought of going to the remand prison. At least here I’m on my own, not thrown in with other prisoners. I just can’t bear the thought of having to be on a wing with murderers and violent criminals for the next three months. It’ll finish me.
A large part of me just wants to end it all. Find the perfect opportunity to make a noose and kill myself. But then I’d have no way of ever proving my innocence. I’d go to the grave a criminal. Not only would I leave my boys without a mother, but they’d go through life believing their mum was a murderer who killed their grandad. The pain is excruciating.
After I told Brian about what happened with Lewis and Greg, he went off to try and track Greg down. Right now, he’s my only hope. I have to pray that he knows where Lewis is, or that he knows someone who does.
I’m also hopeful that the police will find Lewis and speak to him. I just have to have faith that my account of what happened all those years ago was compelling enough for them to want to speak to Lewis about what happened to Roger.
I still don’t see how it could be him, though. Or why. He killed a girl and went to prison for it. Justice was done. Surely after eighteen years he would have realised that and moved on with his life. Wouldn’t he?
I didn’t even testify in court against him. The only involvement I had was that my witness statement gave Greg an alibi and disproved Lewis’s defence. But I believed Greg. I trusted him. I think I still do. I think.
And the thought that Lewis could have got into my house to steal and hide my mobile phone is just ludicrous. He would have needed a key to get in, and no-one has a key except me and Brendan. Even the boys don’t have one. They never go out when we’re not there, and in any case they’d only lose a key if we gave them one.
Setting up something like this would have required so much planning. I don’t remember Lewis ever being like that. He was always a reactor, impetuous and knee-jerk. If someone said something he didn’t like, he’d hit them first and think later. I can’t see him being the sort of person to plan something like this.
But what other options are there? I’m not the sort of person to create enemies. I barely even fall out with people. Not to the extent that they’d want to turn my entire life upside down, ruin my family, commit a murder and try to frame me for it.
The hatch on the door to my cell slides open and a police officer peers in. ‘Do you want to come and make your phone call, Amy? We can give you ten minutes now.’
I look at him for a moment. ‘What phone call?’
‘Your solicitor gave us a phone number he’d found for you. Said it was a friend you wanted to call, but you didn’t have the number to hand. If you can make it quick, you can do it now while we’re quiet.’
I try not to smile. Good old Brian. Before I can get too pleased, though, the thought hits me that I’m about to speak to Greg. I haven’t spoken to him in years, since about three months after what happened that day in court. What the hell am I meant to say? And there’ll be police officers nearby, too, so I’ll have to be careful with my words.
I can’t miss this opportunity, though. God knows what effort Brian’s gone to to track down Greg’s number.
I follow the police officer down the corridor towards the custody desk. When we get there, he hands me a slip of paper with the number on and watches me dial.
The phone rings five or six times before it answers.
‘Hello?’
I don’t recognise the voice immediately. I’m not sure if I should. It’s been a long time.
‘Hi, is that Greg?’
‘Yeah, speaking.’
‘Greg, it’s Amy Walker. Hennessy.’
There’s silence at the other end for a few moments. ‘You got married.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I thought you might. Blimey, I’ve not heard from you for years. What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ I say, before realising how ridiculous that is. ‘Well, not quite nothing. I need to speak to you. I wanted to ask you something. About back then.’
‘Alright,’ Greg replies. I can tell he’s not exactly relishing the prospect.
‘Do you still speak to him?’
‘No.’ Greg answers firmly.
‘Have you spoken to him? Or seen him?’
‘No. People have seen him around, apparently, but he doesn’t engage. He’s not interested. Not that many people have exactly wanted to strike up conversation with him.’
‘But you’ve not seen him yourself?’
‘I moved away. I live on the south coast now. So no, I’m not likely to bump into him either. Not unless he fancies renting a holiday chalet off me. Which I very much doubt he does.’ Greg’s silent for a moment, and I can almost hear his thought process. ‘What’s up, Amy? Why now?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I need to find him. I need you to help me find him.’
‘No. Sorry, Amy. I’ve put all that behind me. I’m not getting involved. Whatever answers you need, I’m afraid I can’t help you with them.’
‘Wait,’ I say, sensing that Greg might be about to hang up the phone. There’s no way the police will let me make another call. ‘Please. Just hear me out.’ Greg doesn’t say anything, but I can hear the faint hiss that tells me the line is still connected and he’s still there. ‘Something’s happened. Recently. Something massive. I think he’s done something. Something really bad.’
‘Like what?’ Greg asks, after a few seconds of silence.
I look over at the desk sergeant. He’s not paying any attention to me, but he soon would if I answered Greg’s question.
‘I can’t say. But I think he’s… I think he’s done it again.’
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
‘You think he’s killed someone?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, looking over at the desk sergeant.
‘Who?’
‘My father-in-law.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Why do you think?’
The line goes quiet as Greg takes his time to digest this. His answer isn’t what I’m expecting.
‘Amy, I’m sorry to hear about your father-in-law but this really has nothing to do with me. I can’t get involved. I just can’t. Sorry.’
‘No, wait. Greg. Please. He’s set it up to make it look like I killed Roger. He’s framing me, and he’s not going to stop there. If he’s done this to me, he’ll do something to you too. Greg, I think he might try to kill you next.’
‘I’m sorry, Amy.’
Greg puts the phone down and the call disconnects just as the desk sergeant rushes over and takes the phone from me.
46
Sunday 5 August, 7.20pm.
Brian spoke to the custody sergeant earlier and told him I had some new information I’d like to discuss. He told me they’d do a post-charge interview. I thought this would happen pretty quickly. After all, wouldn’t they be keen to find out more information and ensure they’ve got the right person?
But no. It’s only now, more than eight hours after I told Brian about Lewis — and four hours after speaking to Greg — that they’ve decided to call me through for the interview. I don’t know if this is their way of trying to tell me they don’t really care about what I have to say, or if they just want me to sweat it out and stay here as long as possible, but Brian tells me they’re probably just short on staff.
We sit down around the table in the interview room and DI McKenna switches on the recording equipment.
‘Amy Walker, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand all that?’
‘We’ve already done all this,’ I say. ‘I was arrested at my front door yesterday morning.’
‘Yes, but as we’re now post-charge I’m required to caution you again under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act. Do you understand the caution I just gave you?’
I sigh. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘Good. Now, your lawyer, Mr Conway, tells us you have some new information which might be of benefit.’
I’m not sure who she thinks it might be of benefit to, or if Brian’s given them any of the details, so I start with the basics.
‘Yes. I think I know who might have killed Roger. I think I know who might have set it up to make it look like it was me who did it.’
‘Okay,’ McKenna says. ‘Who’s that?’ Her tone of voice tells me nothing. It’s straightforward, as if I’ve just called up a takeaway and she’s taking my order.
‘His name’s Lewis Hopkins. He’s an old boyfriend of mine.’
‘You’ve been married a few years, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. He’s from a long time ago.’
‘How long?’
I swallow. ‘Eighteen years.’
McKenna flashes a look to her colleague, then glances back at me. ‘Why would a boyfriend from eighteen years ago — when you were, what, fifteen? — want to do something like this?’
I take a deep breath, then let it all out. ‘Because I wronged him. I took someone’s side against him and he got into trouble over it.’
‘Why now?’ McKenna asks. ‘Why would he wait eighteen years?’
‘Because he’s been in prison.’
‘I see. How long for?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. He got an eighteen year sentence, but I understand he probably got released years ago.’
‘That’s a long sentence. What was the charge?’
‘Manslaughter.’
McKenna raises her eyebrows.
‘I had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. I was his girlfriend at the time. He went out to this stupid party with his friend, Greg. Apparently Lewis picked up a girl there and brought her back to the flat. Hannah Shaw, her name was. He… They… They had sex. Lewis and Hannah. She died. She was strangled. Lewis tried to blame Greg, but I told the police he came straight to mine from the party and was with me at the time Hannah died.’
‘And was he?’
I look at Brian, who nods gently for me to continue. I swallow. ‘No.’
‘So you committed perjury.’
‘My client was never called to give evidence in court, and at no point was she under oath,’ Brian says.
‘Alright. You perverted the course of justice, then.’
My emotions get the better of me, and I struggle to hold back the tears and the huge, sagging feeling in my chest.
‘I didn’t know what to do. Lewis was… He was horrible to me. And when I found out he’d gone home with this girl, I just… I mean, I totally believed he’d killed her. I didn’t believe a word about him accusing Greg. Greg wouldn’t have done anything like that. Greg was lovely. And I knew that if I didn’t, Greg would be implicated in it and Lewis might get off. I did it for all the right reasons.’
‘There’s never a right reason to pervert the course of justice, Amy,’ McKenna says.
‘I know. I know.’
‘This Greg. What’s his surname?’
‘Lawrence.’ I try to gauge McKenna’s thought process, but I can’t. She doesn’t seem particularly happy about it, though. Maybe she thinks I’ve tried to hoodwink her somehow.
‘And you think Lewis held a grudge over this?’ she says.
I look McKenna in the eye. ‘He got sentenced to eighteen years in prison for manslaughter.’
McKenna leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. ‘Yeah, you see, this is what I don’t understand. That’s a long sentence for manslaughter, especially seeing as you described it as more or less a kinky sex game gone wrong.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think it was that. He moved the body and hid it. He tried burying it in the woods. And he tried shifting the blame onto Greg. Even at the trial he wouldn’t admit it. He pleaded not guilty the whole way along.’
McKenna nods slowly. ‘None of that will have helped him much. But why would he come after you? And why would he do this, rather than just attack you? Why your father-in-law? And why not Greg?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been thinking about, but I can’t make any sense out of it. The best I can come up with is that he thinks I should have stuck by him as his girlfriend. And me and Greg… Well, after the trial, we kind of got together. Not for long, but we did.’
‘May I?’ Brian says to me.
I nod. I don’t know what he wants to say, but right now I just want a way out of this.
‘My client told me she thinks Lewis’s motivation behind doing this could have something to do with the fact that he feels he spent years of his life behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit. She told me that perhaps that was his motivation for ensuring she did the same. It’s almost a direct form of revenge, if you will.’
I look at Brian, trying not to show any emotion on my face. I didn’t say anything of the sort. He glances back at me, a look on his face that says Trust me, roll with this. He must have misconstrued my shocked stare. All that’s going through my mind is the processing of that thought. That maybe Lewis didn’t kill Hannah Shaw. That perhaps…
‘And do you have any evidence of this?’ McKenna asks.
‘Of course not,’ Brian answers. ‘You had my client in custody within an hour or two of the crime being committed. The first she’d heard that her father-in-law had died was in the back of a police car. She’s been in one of your cells ever since.’
McKenna nods slowly. ‘And why didn’t you tell us any of this in your police interviews, Amy?’
I blink rapidly. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think. I was just shocked and stunned. I was trying to work it all out in my head. You were asking me all these things about phones and cars and CCTV and none of it made any sense. My brain was just an absolute mess.’
‘We feel,’ Brian says, trying to regain some calm, ‘that Greg could be in some considerable danger. Lewis would also have a cross to bear with his old friend, and there’s a distinct possibility that his life could be in danger.’
McKenna takes a deep breath. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but that’s more or less just a wild guess, isn’t it? Is there any evidence or anything at all — other than a random stab in the dark — that might suggest that?’
I talk before Brian can. ‘Please. You have to arrest Lewis. Speak to him. Find out where he was. See if he’s got an alibi. Check his phone records, I dunno. Just look into it. Please. I can’t handle another minute in here. I didn’t do anything!’
‘Amy, we can’t just go around arresting people because you’ve thrown us a random name of someone you pissed off eighteen years ago.’
Brian gets there before me. ‘Detective Inspector, I think we need to look at the options here. If you’re right, and this has nothing to do with Lewis Hopkins, then what’s been lost? An hour or two speaking to him. If you’re wrong and we’re right, and Lewis gets to Greg first, you’ll have blood on your hands.’
‘With respect, Mr Conway, that doesn’t answer my question. That’s not evidence.’
