Chameleon - A City of London Thriller (39 page)

James Lorimer
was a prosecutor by nature and he believed none of it, but he was
there solely to witness that the deposition, affidavit to the
Brits, was a true representation of the witnesses’ spoken
statements. If James Lorimer had come across this case in his
former role, rather than in his current position in the DoJ, he
would have pursued this case, confident he could have got a life
sentence. Luckily for him it was not a case in which the US had any
jurisdiction.

Both men
signed the form and the gathered threesome was joined by Elizabeth
Chase Miles who, in the last twenty four hours, had become as close
to Gil as a sister. Liz also saw herself as Gillian’s
protector.

The four sat
amiably sharing a pot of English tea and discussing Denton Miles’
potential candidacy. A successful run for the presidency would be
an absolute

boon for all
four people sipping Earl Grey from a pre civil war tea
service.

***

Dee sat alone
in her hotel room with her laptop wirelessly connected to the
internet, her computer acting as camera and monitor for a Skype
video call to her husband back in the UK. Seeing Josh looking
relaxed and tanned in their apartment, Dee felt suddenly lonely.
She hadn’t held her husband for weeks and she missed him. She
missed his touch, his after shave and his quick quips. He could
drive her mad when they were together, but when they were apart she
just yearned for one of his light hearted insults or an unfunny
quip at her expense. She even missed going to watch the football on
a Saturday afternoon at West Ham, who were performing no better
than they had been last year and who looked doomed to relegation to
the Championship.

“
I miss you,
Dee,” Josh said as he wrapped up the call. “I might just jump on a
plane and join you. I have a few days of annual leave
due.”

“
That would
be good, but we shouldn’t waste it on my working days. Let’s wait
awhile.”

“
OK. But get
some rest, you look weary. I’ll speak to you again soon. I love
you. Bye.”

As soon as he
had gone, tears escaped Dee’s welled up eyes. After years of being
strong and independent, she was crying over a man. ‘Get a grip,
girl’, she told herself.

She picked up
her mobile phone. She had two email messages. The first was from
Katie Norman whose acerbic commentary on college life cheered Dee
up no end. The second was from Steve Post. DCI Coombs and DS Scott
were on their way to Virginia and Gillian Davis had, surprisingly,
been keen to speak to them. Her counsel, Pat Gallagher, insisted on
accompanying her and holding the interview in a neutral venue. The
meeting would be held in the FBI field office in Richmond,
Virginia, just a hundred miles along US Highway 60.

Pete and Dee
would be allowed to attend, but they would only be permitted to
watch from a side room. That would have to be enough. She wanted to
see the look on Gillian Davis’ face when she saw the evidence
against her for the first time.

Chapter
5
7

FBI Field
Office, Richmond, Virginia. Thursday 8:30am.

Just fifteen
days after the deaths of the Hokobus, Pete was to witness Gillian
Davis’ questioning, and he was looking forward to seeing her
squirm.

Whilst they
could have had the meeting in the Lynchburg satellite office of the
FBI, the impressive building that housed the Richmond field office
offered far more facilities. The building had a red brick facade
that saw two wings springing from a central atrium. The windows
were mostly square and the architecture plain, with the exception
of the glazing over the front entrance which had a panel of square
glazed windows, topped with a semi circular arrangement of windows
above, almost like something one might see in a cathedral. A mock
arch, constructed of light.

The reception
area provided a respite from the cold winds whipping across the car
park, and Pete and Dee were grateful for the overheated lobby.
Steve Post brought them both visitors’ badges and then led them to
a small conference room on the first floor, known as the second
floor to their American hosts. From the window it was apparent that
they were at the front of the building, in what would be the right
hand wing when viewed from the front. They could see over the car
park and to the road beyond.

Steve left the
two alone with a tray of biscuits and some water in sturdy glass
bottles, fastened with rubber ringed cork seals secured by a wire
bound stopper; a little over the top, perhaps, for still water. A
few moments later Steve returned, accompanied by DS Scott and DCI
Coombes. Pete had never met the DCI, and so introductions were
effected. Dee had not seen the DCI since her that fateful day at
the London Eye, he enquired after her health. Dee appreciated his
enquiry because she knew that he wasn’t a “people person” in any
sense, and they weren’t friends even though they had worked closely
together in the past.

The two
policemen reviewed the evidence and explained their interview
strategy to Pete, Dee and Steve. The evidence wasn’t solid, but it
placed Gillian Davis very firmly at the scene of the
crime.

***

The room
overlooking the interview suite was necessarily dark. The subdued
lighting allowed them to view the proceedings through one way
glass. The sound was broadcast to speakers inside their room from
microphones on the interview table.

Inside the
interview room the two detectives sat opposite the suspect and her
counsel. They had been friendly and quite disarming when they were
introduced. They assured her that their sole intention was to clear
up a number of questions that had arisen during their investigation
into the deaths of the Hokobus. Her counsel, the redoubtable and
quite famous Pat Gallagher, didn’t trust the Brits a jot. Why would
he? They had stolen half of his beloved ancestral
Ireland.

***

Gillian Davis
wore a conservatively styled black jersey dress that covered her
arms and fell to her knees. A patterned Pashmina hung around her
shoulders, gathered at the front by a gold clasp at the nape of her
neck. Her make-up was lightly applied and her jewellery was not
ostentatious, despite her wealth. In the hour that she had been
sitting in the room she had not spoken. Her counsel had answered
every question on her behalf, but to his credit the answers were
fulsome and helpful. Nonetheless, now was the time for the
detectives to hit the former MI5 operative with their
evidence.

“
Ms Davis, we
have evidence that places you at the scene of the crime at the
relevant time. Would you like to comment?” Coombes
growled.

“
I don’t
recall my client denying that she was in the vicinity of London’s
third most visited attraction, along with hundreds of other people
on that day or any other. Move on, please.”

Coombes
growled again. “You were identified by a witness, who attests that
you sprayed a paralysing substance in his face and kidnapped the
Hokobus whilst dressed in a police uniform. Thus being the last
person to see them alive.”

“
Ah, I
wondered when we would get to the mysterious policewoman. Before we
address that statement, let me make one of my own. Surely the last
person to see the Hokobus alive would be their killer, Inspector,
and my client has never needed to deny that killing because she has
never been accused of it. Should you deign to make such an
accusation, I can assure you it will be denied,
vigorously!”

The lawyer
paused and looked at his notes.

“
Now, about
this policewoman. If the witness statements are correct, we seem to
have a woman between five feet six inches and five feet ten inches.
She was either blonde or possibly dark haired, it was difficult for
the witness to be certain as she had her hat on. She had blue,
green or brown eyes and a beauty spot above her lip, or not, as in
the case of the artist’s impression. Finally she was very trim. She
may have worked out, or, she had wide hips and an average sized
bust.

I have to
concede, gentlemen, that my client does indeed fit that
description.” He grinned widely, and DCI Coombes
seethed.

“
Actually, we
have a witness statement from the man she paralysed, who saw her
close up and gave an accurate description which was then reproduced
by a police artist. It is this description that makes your client a
suspect in this matter.”

“
Oh yes. I
remember that witness. As I recall, he gave his detailed
description to….” He paused to look at a copy of a police notebook
that had been disclosed to him as evidence. “Detective Sergeant
Scott! Well, how fortuitous. I guess that would be you, Sergeant?”
he asked, looking pointedly at DS Scott. Scott nodded.

“
Well, you
should remember your reply, in that case.”

DS Scott
flushed. How could he possibly know what was said at the scene?
No-one would have written it down. He thought. The lawyer
continued.

“
If my
sources are correct, you said that the description might fit half
the women in London. Is that right, Sergeant?” The two policemen
remained stoic, giving nothing away.

“
You would be
obliged to answer that in court, Sergeant, but if it helps, my
investigator has a statement from the paramedic who attended the
witness, if you would like to see it. In the meantime I assume that
once again my client is prepared to concede that she could indeed
fall into the classification of ‘half the women in London’. Now, if
we could perhaps move onto some real evidence I would be
grateful.”

The next few
minutes were spent discussing CCTV footage of the parking garage
that was inconclusive, the absence of physical evidence and a hire
car that Gillian Davis had rented for the day and which was caught
on camera in the general area, which the suspect did not deny.
Coombes had played around enough; it was time for the killer blow
to her defence.

“
Ms Davis,
this has all been very entertaining but there is one piece of
evidence that is unequivocal and undeniable. We have a contact lens
bearing your fingerprint and your DNA that you lost in the Hokobus
car on the day of the murder. You were there, Ms Davis. You were in
the car with the Hokobus. You sprayed them with your home made
spray and then you killed them. I think that a jury will convict on
that evidence alone.”

Chapter
5
8

FBI Field
Office, Richmond, Virginia. Thursday 10:30am.

Dee was
surprised to see that neither the suspect, nor her counsel, were at
all affected by the fingerprint or the DNA evidence, neither of
which had been shared with them previously. Dee wanted to believe
that Davis’ facial control was magnificent and that inside she was
terrified, but that did not gel. She looked calm and she was
calm.

Steve Post had
picked up on this, too, whilst Pete seemed unaware of the potential
problem and so merely looked on in anticipation. The FBI man took
his laptop out of hibernation mode and flicked on the CJIS search
engine. With a few key strokes he obtained high level access to the
recently completed CJIS database. Nestled in the West Virginia
hills, not far away from the field office, the Criminal Justice
Information Services building housed the world’s largest criminal
database.

***

Pat Monaghan
could hardly suppress his supercilious smile as he answered the
accusation.

“
Detective
Chief Inspector. My client does not deny that a cosmetic contact
lens with her fingerprint and DNA profile may indeed have been
found at the crime scene.” He paused, giving the two policemen some
hope that a limited admission would follow. “However, she does
reserve the right to have our own experts carry out tests to
confirm your allegation.”

The two
policemen acknowledged that this was a reasonable request, but
repeated their accusation that she had now been placed fairly and
squarely at the crime scene.

“
That is not
strictly true, is it, Chief Inspector?” The lawyer enjoyed the
puzzlement showing on the faces opposite. “If the contact lens had
been found in a house, or perhaps an office or something else
immobile that might be true. But even then we would have to accept
the possibility that the contact lens could have been placed there
long before the crime took place.

With a vehicle
involved, your assertion becomes even more
questionable...”

Coombes could
bear it no longer and boomed, “Are you telling me that your client
is denying that she lost her contact lens in that car? Mobile or
immobile, it makes no difference. That is where it was
found!”

“
That may
well be true, Chief Inspector, and if you had been listening you
would have heard me say that, subject to testing, my client does
not necessarily deny that she lost her contact lens in the
car.

Unfortunately,
you have allowed a single piece of flimsy evidence to blind you to
other suspects. You have found one piece of forensic evidence and
have fabricated - and I’m sorry to have to say it – a sloppy case
around it.” The man reached down into his briefcase and extracted a
few sheets of paper. DS Scott placed his hand on his superior’s arm
to calm him down; the lawyer was in real danger of being throttled
by Coombes, whose veins were now bulging.