THIRTY NINE
CASE CLOSED?
Smith and Thompson could hear the screams from the car park.
“Sounds like my wife is in there,” Thompson joked.
He opened the door to the Police station.
“After you,” he said to Smith.
Inside, Chalmers’ plan seemed to be working better than he had expected. Roxy Jones was being restrained by Bridge and two officers in uniform. Mick Hogg was cowering in one of the chairs in reception. Chalmers and Whitton were standing between the two suspects.
“Which one shall we do first sir,” Smith said to Chalmers.
“Our friend Hogg seems anxious to get away from her,” Chalmers pointed to Roxy Jones, “let’s see what he can tell us first. Thompson, you and Smith seem to have kissed and made up for the time being. You can sit in too.”
Thompson smiled.
“Yes sir,” he said.
The elderly man who was with Roxy Jones earlier emerged from the bathroom.
“Mr Atkins,” Chalmers addressed him, “I suggest you advise your client that this kind of behaviour will not work to her advantage.”
“Are you threatening my client Inspector?” Atkins said.
“Detective Inspector,” Chalmers replied, “and no, I’m not threatening her, I’m giving her a piece of advice that won’t cost her three hundred quid an hour. Would you like to sit in while we interview Hogg? He’s entitled to have a lawyer present.”
“No bloody way,” Roxy Jones cried, “that moron is on his own now.”
“Come through Mr Hogg,” Smith said, “we’ll use room number three; it’s my favourite.” He looked at Roxy Jones.
“That’s where we interviewed your husband,” he added.
“How many time do I have to tell you lot,” Roxy Jones screamed, “he’s not my husband, he’s nothing.”
“Thompson,” Smith said, “are you joining us?”
Thompson followed them down the corridor.
“Interview with Mr Michael Hogg”, Thompson began, “Sunday 3 January 2009. Time 15.30. Present DS Thompson and DS Smith. Mr Hogg has declined the offer to have a lawyer present on the grounds that they are all, and I quote, crap. Where shall we start Mr Hogg? “
“How long have you known Miss Jones?” Smith began
“I hardly know her,” Hogg replied.
“How can someone you hardly know get you to kill two people in just over a week? I’d hate to see what she could accomplish if she knew you well.”
“She threatened me,” Hogg insisted.
“So you said. What did she threaten you with?”
“She said she’d kill me if I told anyone.”
“Can I say something?” Thompson said.
“Please do,” Smith replied.
“Mr Hogg,” Thompson began, “you don’t seem to me the kind of person who would be scared easily. Why are you so frightened of this woman?”
“Can I have something to drink?” Hogg asked.
“In a minute Hogg, answer the question.”
“Roxy is clever,” Hogg said, “and she has money. Do you know how much it costs to have someone killed these days?”
“Enlighten us,” Smith sighed.
“About five grand. That’s small change for someone like her.”
“Ok,” Smith said, “so the recession is hitting the hit men too but you could let us help you.”
“How can you help me?”
“Listen Hogg,” Smith was becoming impatient, “Roxy Jones has a lawyer who earns more in a week than you’ve ever earned in a year. We know you killed Susan Jenkins and we’re pretty convinced you killed Lauren Cowley too. You’re going to jail; it’s up to you for how long.”
“What do you mean?” Hogg asked.
“Listen carefully, we have nothing on Roxy Jones except for your word and to be honest, your word doesn’t really count for much. Unless you help us, she’s going to get away with it.”
“But she paid me,” Hogg said, “Twice. You can prove that.”
“That’s going to be a bit of a problem. None of the money can be traced back to her. The first payment came from someone else’s bank account and the second payment was in cash and I doubt you have any of it left anyway.”
“Can I have that drink now?” Hogg said.
“I’ll get you some water,” Smith replied.
“Interview paused,” Thompson said, “DS Smith is leaving the room.”
He paused the machine.
Smith walked back through reception and bought three bottles of water from the machine in the corner.
“How are things going in there?” Chalmers asked.
Smith looked over to where Roxy Jones was sitting with her lawyer.
“Almost done Sir,” he said it loud enough for her to hear. “Hogg is thirsty; singing like a bird really dries out the mouth. He’s told us everything.”
“Interview recommenced,” Thompson spoke into the microphone, “Time, 15.45. Present, DS Thompson and DS Smith.”
Smith handed Hogg a bottle of water. He opened it and drank greedily.
“Where were we?” Smith asked, “Oh yes, the money that Roxy Jones gave you.”
“The first payment went straight into Susan’s bank account,” Hogg said, “but Roxy told me later she’d hacked into someone else’s account and sent the money from there.”
“Who’s account?” Smith said.
“That bloke who killed his wife,” Hogg said, “the one from the University.”
“And the second payment?”
“Roxy gave me three and a half grand in cash in Tenerife.”
“And that can’t be traced to her either, so where does that leave us?”
“What do you mean?”
“It means that you’re in deep shit Mr Hogg and Roxy Jones is going to get away with it. She’s going to sit back and watch you go down for this. How old are you Hogg?”
“Twenty two,” Hogg replied.
“Then you should get out just before you start to draw a pension,” Smith said, “if there is such a thing in forty years time.”
“Forty years?” Hogg was sweating.
“Forty years,” Smith repeated, “unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you help us,” Thompson interrupted, “my colleague here is what you would call a by the book Policeman; he even studied the law for a few years. We know you killed those two women but you could argue, what’s the exact term DS Smith?”
“Criminal duress,” Smith said, “if you argue that you killed them under duress or admit only partial liability then you can expect a much lighter sentence.”
“And Roxy?” Hogg suddenly seemed very interested. “What will happen to her?”
“Conspiracy to commit murder,” Smith said, “It carries the same sentence as murder.”
“So she’ll be done for the murders, is that what you’re saying?”
“If she’s found guilty, yes,” Smith said, “but that depends entirely on you. We need to know everything; times, dates, the whole lot.”
“There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Thompson said, “I can see why you killed Lauren Cowley; Roxy was the jealous girlfriend, but why Susan?”
“She was getting scared,” Hogg said, “Roxy told me to kill her to keep her quiet. Susan was terrified that the cops were on to us and she’s a terrible liar.”
“Didn’t that bother you,” Smith said, “killing your girlfriend?”
“Like I said,” Hogg sighed, “Roxy could be very persuasive.”
“Interview finished,” Smith announced suddenly, “Time 16.15.” He turned the machine off.
“Are we done?” Thompson looked surprised.
“Officially, yes we are,” Smith replied with a wry smile.
He leaned over the table so he was closer to Mick Hogg.
“I don’t like you Hogg,” he said, “but what I like even less are rich m
urderers with fancy lawyers getting away with it. You are going to make a statement that implicates Miss Jones in both of these murders. Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Hogg said nervously.
“How are your creative writing skills Thompson?” Smith asked.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Thompson replied.
“Would you rather see Roxy Jones’ smug face as the judge pronounces her not guilty?”
“No, but…”
“I’m not asking you to do anything illegal Thompson; I just happen to know a bit about the other side of the law. All you need to do is jazz up the statement a bit with a few poignant phrases like terrified of Roxy Jones and fearful for my life. Otherwise, just keep to the facts.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Thompson sighed.
“Good,” Smith said, “and I’m going to see how that lawyer of Roxy Jones’ can justify the fees he charges.”