The Girl under the Tarpaulin (Part 9)
Libby has been held in a holding cell overnight. She will learn some tragic news but not believe it.
Previous parts below:
Part 1:
Part 2:
Part 3:
Part 4:
Part 5:
Part 6:
Part 7:
Part 9: Duped.
It’s 8:57 a.m., when detective Bill Sheppard, sitting in his office, receives a fax report from the Forensics Lab.
Libby has spent a night in a holding cell, having refused the offer of a solicitor. There’s a thin mattress on the bunk, a blanket, a toilet, and half a toilet roll. The offer of breakfast has been turned away. Libby had requested but denied keeping the shirt belonging to Sirius. She was allowed to take a shower at 6:00 this morning.
Bill Sheppard takes his time reading the report, which he finally sets down on his desk at 9:05 a.m. and picks up the phone and puts a call through to the Desk Sergeant. “Eamon, have one of your lads bring the girl to the interview room,” and rests the phone back down.
Sirius, having spent a tempestuous night of toss and turn, interrupted with spats of fury, rises at 4:00 a.m. and looks for something to do around the house. He knows the outcome he wants, but she has fooled him, not once, twice, but still, it worries him that she will be feeling lonely at first, but he knows, too, her anger will soon consume her. He goes into the garage and brings in his toolbox, time to fix a couple of the knobs on the oven that have come loose over the years. Anything that will enable him to detach his thoughts from Libby and the investigation.
Bill Sheppard's cell phone rings, it’s Detective George Harrison.
“Morning, Bill. They’ve just started examining the home of Sarah Moskwitch. We should get a report late today or early tomorrow,” he says. At the Reynold’s place, the blues are still going door to door asking questions but as yet, no-one heard or saw anything. “Anything show up from the lab, Bill?”
“Yes, I have the report, came through ten minutes ago. Bring some coffee on your way in, George, will you.”
“Sure. I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Bill dials in the number for Sirius. “Morning, Sirius. Look, I got the results back. The gun, as we suspected, has never been fired, not once. Ballistics say the weapon used in the murders used 9x19mm parabellum cartridges, possibly from a G17. Mostly in military use. I’m about to question her again, if we can clear up where she’s been staying since arriving from Manchester, that might go a long way to clearing her of any involvement.”
Sirius moves away from the kitchen stove. “Bill, is there any chance I can sit-in on that interview?”
“I don’t have a problem with that. I’m waiting on George to get back from the crime scene. About thirty minutes, can you get here?”
“No problem, I appreciate that. See you shortly.”
At 9:15 am., Libby is seated in the interview room and secured to the desk by handcuffs. It is 9: 50 when the three men walk in. Bill immediately instructs the constable to remove the cuffs.
George goes into a drawer on the opposite side where Libby is sitting and pulls out a new cassette, asking Libby to look and agree that it is a sealed cassette. Then immediately unwraps it in front of her and loads the recorder. He sets it to record. “It’s ready, Bill.”
Bill speaks formally. “The date of this recording is October 18th, 2022. We are at Rayner’s Late Police Station, Middlesex. The time is,” a quick check of his watch, “9:50 a.m. I’m Detective Bill Shepperd, and with me, Detective George Harrison, and also in the room, the arresting officer, Constable Sirius Copper. We are conducting an interview with Lucy Sheldon, AKA, Libby, regarding our investigation into the murders of Terry Reynold’s and Sarah Moskwitch.”
Those words caved in on Libby, like falling thunder. “What!”
George Sheppard raises his hand, imagining she will be silent. She will not.
“What is this shit… you liars. Sarah is not dead; you are lying pieces of shit,” and she stands against the desk, throwing insults. George gets up and comes around the desk, where Libby starts to struggle. Sirius helps restrain her and she is cuffed to the desk again.
Bill continues, “the interviewee has been advised of her rights and has refused representation…” but is again interrupted.
“You lying pigs. Sarah is alive.”
Bill continues: “This recording is paused at 9:54 a.m.,” and hits the pause button.
Sirius, too, is surprised that Libby has not been informed of Sarah Moskwitch’s death. It feels like a cruel trick to wait for the interview, knowing if her story is true, this revelation will destroy her.
“Do you want something to drink?” Bill asks her.
“Fuck you, all three of you. You think frightening me is going help you in your investigation. Fuck you,” she shouts,” “and what is he doing here, anyway,” she yells, looking at Sirius, giving him a ice-forming stare, the coldest, harshest, showing a callous indifference toward him, and the coldest stare Sirius has ever felt. In his gut, he is unable to deny her contempt for him.
“Drink, with you three? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; you are cops after all.”
George’s eyebrows curve. “Interesting, yet you requested you keep on the shirt Sirius here gave you, to wear last evening in the holding room,” Bill reminds her.
Libby’s cheeks immediately flushed. “Because I wanted to spend the night shredding it,” she quickly answers.
Bill unpauses the tape recording: “This recording is resuming at 9:59. Same people in the room. I’ll call you, Libby, if I may, as that seems to be the name you have adopted. So let me ask you, where have you been staying recently?”
“You know where, I’ve told you,” Libby says.
“I know that you’ve lied to us, yes. Perhaps now that we have established this fact, you’ll be prepared to tell me where you’ve really been staying?” Bill says.
“Established?” Libby says, “what does that mean, established?”
“The house has been searched, fingerprinted, and forensics have determined that you have never been in the house. What I want to know, and what might help you, is for you to tell us where you have been staying?”
Before Libby can answer, there’s a sharp knuckle-knock on the door before it opens enough for Sergeant Johnson to request a moment of the Bill’s time.
“I think you hear this, Bill,” he says.
“This recording is paused at 10:03,” Bill says. “What going on Sergeant?”
Sergeant Johnson has no wish to divulge at that moment and calls Bill from the room with a flick of his head sideways.
“George, stay with her,” Bill instructs as he rises from his chair and follows the sergeant, closing the door as he leaves.
Libby is convinced Sirius has set her up, and passionately hates him right now. She’s aware, that she got caught up by a certain old man charm but knows she has been duped.
Outside the door, the two men discuss the new information given to the sergeant. Inside the room, no one speaks for a moment until Libby breaks the silence. “This is a filthy country, full of criminals, rapists, and bent cops.”
Without the tape running, George and Sirius remain quiet.
Sirius, though, looks over at Libby. His house hadn’t felt that way around him since Libby stayed there. It’s quite small: two bedrooms, bathroom, a
kitchen and a drawing room, garage, but, when Libby was in the house, one part of the house led to another, and became joined. Became a home. Then his thinking changes, is he confused? Is this woman sat four feet from him a woman capable of something so gory as murder?
For two days, they had lived like a couple, not intimately, just together,
not preoccupied with the thought of, and fear of, the future and the
emptiness it will undoubtedly lead to if he’s wrong in his assumptions about her. Sirius sits there, grappling with this new situation when the door opens and Bill walks back in holding a folder, labeled, Forensics.
Finishes on tenth episode. Guaranteed.
Hello, this might be of some interest. If you would like to join Medium as a Member, giving you access to every story I write, and the whole shebang of talented writers on Medium, and you want to join up, read, or earn yourself a few coins writing, please think about using this LINK to become a member. Cost $5. You’ll be gifting me a cup of coffee, and treating yourself to the wonderland of Medium.com💜✍️
More of Harry Hogg:
