Rhinoceros 24
The police officer was different this time. Alan was not as surprised as he should have been when he answered the door. Besides, he was not actually a police officer. A detective inspector, he said, as he flashed a card and walked in. He was thin: thin faced, a lanky, twisty body hidden in a mac (well of course, a mac, thought Alan) and thin hair pushed back from his forehead and over his ears. In a film he would have been played by James Woods, or at least the James Woods of the 1980s. Alan didn’t go to the cinema often. The detective sat on a wooden chair and invited Alan to sit opposite him. “Your wife called me. She seemed very concerned.” Even his voice was thin, though insistent.
“Ex-wife.”
The detective appraised the flat quickly, seemed to want to get to the point so as to get out. “OK. Is there any reason why you would choose not to report a crime? Are you being harassed, for example, threatened?”
“No.”
“It’s no shame to say you are. The Mitchelsons have frightened tougher nuts than you.” Alan wasn’t sure what he was suggesting.
“I just wanted to move on, get on with life.”
“But a crime has been committed, Mr Scope. Several crimes, allegedly. Let’s see. Assault? False imprisonment? Actual bodily harm? Shall I go on?”
“I managed to land a punch on Mr Mitchelson, you know.” There was an urgent imperative to point this out. He seemed to be putting a lot of effort into buoying up his wounded pride these days.
“Good for you. You say you paid a professional visit to Ryon Walker in his home and Mr Mitchelson and Gary Mitchelson arrived some time later making threats towards yourself and Ryon?”
Alan sighed, rubbed his face with his hands, and without looking at the detective, said, “They thought I’d reported their activities to the police, or that Ryon and I had concocted something when I went to visit him in the secure unit. I don’t know, it all happened very quickly. Is this really going to make any difference?”
“You do, of course, have the right not to press charges, Mr Scope, but let me put it this way. We already have the Mitchelsons in custody, even as we speak.” Alan looked surprised. “Yeah, we’ve got loads on them, and your friend Ryon is definitely mixed up in all this, too. Anyway, we’re putting together the charge sheet, but you could easily help us wrap it all up. Get them on the ABH, and we could lean on Doreen a bit – she’s terrified anyway, she’ll probably say anything – and it’ll sit nicely with the receiving stolen goods and benefit fraud. Basically, you’re tidying up a messy case for the benefit of everyone. Keeping out of it is, if you don’t mind me saying, Mr Scope, just a little selfish. You need to look at the bigger picture. They’re sitting ducks. Have your day in court, tie up the loose ends, and then move on. Far more satisfying, eh?” And he smiled without warmth.
“Can I at least think about it?”
“Do you really need to?”
“I understand what you are saying. And it isn’t fear that’s driving my decisions… I just don’t need my day in court. I guess I was foolish to get involved and to think that I would be immune to…um… To their practices, to their world. That being a teacher was a shield. So now I know. And knowing is enough.”
The detective didn’t seem to want to hear all this. Which is fair enough, Alan thought. After all, this isn’t a confessional. He looked at Alan long and hard. “The criminal justice system doesn’t operate on those kind of subtle considerations, Mr Scope. It’s fed on facts, evidence, the testimony of good people like yourself. And that’s really all I’ve got time for. So am I wasting my breath explaining this any further, Mr Scope?”
“You think I’m a fool.”
“Then I’ll see myself out,” he continued. “One other thing, though, Mr Scope. Do you happen to know the whereabouts of Ryon Walker?”
“No. Why has he disappeared?” Alan kept a steady gaze, but the detective seemed to read him anyway. He watched and waited. Eventually Alan said, “I’ll let you know if I hear from him.”
“You will, Mr Scope, because there is a warrant out for his arrest, and I wouldn’t want to believe that you would aid a known criminal.”
He stood up and looked around the flat. Then he went into the hallway. As he reached the door, he stopped and said, “Obviously you’re making a big mistake, I don’t need to point that out. You asked about time to think. Call me tomorrow if you’ve got anything factual to say – DC Wright, Endington – after that, don’t bother.” And he quickly and quietly closed the door behind him. Annie won’t be pleased, Alan thought. Annie can go to hell, he added in a determined mutter. And he flung himself back into his chair.
