Hit and Run Maria Frankland (general ebook reader .txt) 📖

expert on this, but am sure that now I’m under arrest, I shouldn’t be answering questions without a solicitor to advise me. Not on a charge like this. But I can’t face staying in this cell another minute. I can’t imagine that I could fall back to sleep.

Plus, I want to find out exactly why they have arrested me. I know from all the thrillers I read, that I can say no comment if I’m not sure how to answer. Especially if they’re asking questions without proper evidence. That’s what I’ll do. It’s all recorded as well, so if there’s any later discrepancies, I’ll have some protection. I need to get out of here.

* * *

They must have found who or what they are looking for.

Perhaps there’s only me who knows for sure that

they are missing something.

Chapter 25

I feel woozy. I don’t know if it’s the heat in here, the stress I’m under, or because I’ve only just woken up.

“The date is Friday June 12th, and the time is 12:05 pm. My name is Detective Inspector Diane Green, and this is my colleague,” she nods towards him.

“PC John Robinson.”

“We are here to interview - can you state your full name, please?”

“Fiona Mary Matherson.” My grandmother pops into my mind again. Mary was her name.

“Your address and date of birth, please?

“7 Orchard Mews, Otley, Leeds. 4th April 1985.” They already know this. Why are they asking again?

“Fiona Matherson, you are being interviewed following your arrest in connection with the death of your husband, Robert Lee Matherson, who was killed in a suspected hit and run incident on Monday 8th June. You have had your rights read to you, but I will go through them again.” She takes a deep breath. “We have arrested you on suspicion of causing death by dangerous driving. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be given in evidence. Do you understand your rights, or do you need me to explain them to you?”

“I understand.” Just get on with it! I want to scream at her. I don’t feel a hundred percent. I try to remember if I have eaten anything today. Half a slice of toast. No wonder I feel woozy. I only picked at the casserole last night as well.

“You have declined your right to legal representation. If you change your mind, we can pause the interview until representation is sought.” She looks at me, as if double checking I have made the right decision. I know it’s reckless to proceed without the solicitor, but I just want to go home.

“If the solicitor my father has arranged arrives whilst you’re interviewing me, can we stop and allow him in?”

“Of course. But for now, can you confirm for the tape that you will allow the interview to begin without legal representation?”

“Yes.”

“You have declined your right to have someone informed of your detention, and you have also declined your right to access a copy of the Police Code of Conduct. Is that correct?”

“Yes. My father knows where I am.”

Di Green raises her gaze from her notebook to me. “We’ve arrested you in connection with the death of your husband, Robert. Do you understand the charge?”

“Of course I don’t. I want to know why you’ve arrested me.”

“We’ve received information that implicates you in the incident. Before I begin with my questioning, is there anything you would like to tell me?”

“No, nothing.” My heart is hammering. I’m sure if I looked down at my t-shirt, I could see my chest moving beneath it. What the hell is she going to ask me?

“Where were you between 9am and 12pm on Monday 8th June?”

“I’ve already told you. I was at home, doing the ironing.”

“But as you’ve admitted yourself, no one can verify this.”

“I was on my own, so no.”

“We’ve had information from Hill End Garage in Ilkley, to say you presented your vehicle for repair at 11am on Monday 8th June. What have you got to say about that?”

“I know nothing about it. I was at home at 11am.”

“What if I told you we have evidence of your presence there?.”

“You can’t have.”

“For the benefit of the tape, I am now showing Fiona Matherson a receipt dated Monday 8th June, for the provision and fitting of a part-worn front nearside tyre.”

“That’s got nothing to do with me.”

DI Green pushes the sheet closer to me. “Can you confirm whether this is your name, address and registration number Fiona?”

“Well, yes it is, but…”

“The garage operative who worked on your car told us of a blown-out tyre. He remembers wondering how you’d driven any distance on the wheel, to even get it to a garage.”

“I don’t know what he, or you, are talking about.”

“Come on, Fiona.” She glances down at her notes again. “He gave a description which bears a remarkable likeness to you.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“It’s a coincidence, don’t you think, that your husband dies on Denton Road after being involved in a hit and run at ten thirty and your car turns up at a garage close by, for nearside repairs half an hour later.”

“I keep telling you. It wasn’t me. Put me in a line-up. They won’t pick me out.”

“We may well have to do that Fiona. But first I’d like to ask why you opted for a part-worn tyre? So that it wouldn’t look too new and out of place when we had a look at your car as we did on the day of your husband’s death?”

“No comment.”

“You’ve been a person of interest to us all week Fiona. We understand from Bryony, is it?” She glances down at her page again. “That you’ve gone to her house, asking questions and behaving jealously about her relationship with your husband.”

“I didn’t know about any relationship, until after Rob had died, so that’s rubbish too.”

“Now that’s not strictly true, is it? You caught them having a drink in a café together.”

“No comment.” I glance at PC Robinson, who’s busy scribbling things down. I want to take