The following evening, I was helping Sean clear up in the café when there was a knock on the door. We were closed and ignored it. The knock was louder the second time. Sean went to see who it was. He was talking to someone, but I couldn’t hear what was being said. He walked back into the kitchen followed by two men. “Rusty, these men are policemen. They want to talk to you.”
“Have you caught the burglar?” I asked hopefully, recognising one of the men as the same one who had attended the burglary.
“I’m afraid not,” Detective Constable Brooks replied. “We’d like to ask you some questions. In private,” he added for Sean’s benefit. I took them upstairs to the living room. “Please take a seat,” DC Brooks said as if I was the guest not him. I sat down. The two policemen remained standing. “Does the name Crispin de Longue mean anything to you?” he asked. I froze for a moment.
“No. I don’t think it does,” I managed to say, trying to keep the trembling out of my voice. I didn’t look at either of them. “He lived in the Cuthbert Docks complex. Have you ever been there?” he continued. I denied ever having been to the complex, although I did know where it was. I looked at the two men. I wasn’t a competent liar and I was convinced they could tell I was lying.
“Crispin de Longue was found dead today. There was a note by his body. It looks like suicide.” It was the other man who spoke. The news shocked me. It was getting harder by the second to maintain any kind of composure.
“What happened?” I asked weakly.
“Did Crispin know your proper name, Rusty?” It was DC Brooks who asked this time. Without thinking, I shook my head. “So you did know him, didn’t you? Why did you lie to us?” I was trapped. What should I do now? Should I try and deny it still? Should I tell them about George and his threats? I began to cry. It seemed like my standard response to almost any situation. They let me cry for a couple of minutes. “The note Mr de Longue left mentioned someone called Rusty,” DC Brooks continued. “If your boyfriend hadn’t referred to you as ‘Rusty’ when I called about your burglary, we might never have made the connection. We believe your reaction to hearing about his death was genuine. It was a surprise to you. But we need to know what your relationship with him was. It seems to have been important to him.”
This was news to me. I doubted anyone was important to Crispin, except, possibly, George. And how could three months of my life, over three years ago, have any bearing on his death? “I can’t help you,” I muttered.
“Can’t or won’t, Mrs Simmonds?” the second policeman asked, less friendly than before. I waited a few seconds before answering.
“Can’t,” I mumbled.
“Maybe we’d get more cooperation at the station,” the second man asked DC Brooks. I felt a flicker to sympathy from DC Brooks.
“Look, I take it your boyfriend doesn’t know about Mr de Longue,” DC Brooks asked kindly. There is no reason for us to tell him anything as long as you tell us what we want to know.” This veiled threat alarmed me. My relationship with Sean was pretty good, especially after last night. The last thing I wanted was to ruin it. Or was it? What if George found out I’d talked to the police? What would he do then? DC Brooks seemed to see the terror in my eyes. “Are you frightened?” he asked, again kindly. I nodded. “Of us?” I shook my head. “Of your boyfriend finding out?” My eyes lifted and looked into his. I felt I had to trust him.
“Partly,” I whispered.
“Is there someone else you’re frightened of?” The other man asked irritably. DC Brooks put his hand up to silence him.
“Who else are you frightened of?” he asked.
“A friend of Crispin’s.” I whispered. DC Brooks asked me to go on. “He threatened me if I admitted knowing Crispin.”
“Did he? That’s interesting; very interesting. And does this friend have a name?”
“I only knew him as George. Please, don’t let him find out I’ve talked to you. He said it would be more than my life’s worth if I did.” Once again, tears started to flow.
“Is there anywhere you could go for a few days?” DC Brooks asked. “Somewhere this friend, George, wouldn’t know about? Only until we’ve investigated this a bit more. And just to be on the safe side.” Where could I stay? And then I thought of my parents. I’d never told Crispin much about them, and I was certain I’d never mentioned where they lived, not even the general area.
“I suppose I could go to my parents. I’d have to let Sean know where I was going. He’d be worried.”
“I think it would be better if you told no one,” DC Brooks cut in. “The fewer people who know the better. Can you pack a few things now and we’ll get you wherever you need to go. You can call your parents on the way and tell them you’re coming for a few days. Best not tell them too much either.”
It was difficult telling Sean I was going away so soon after we’d got together, especially as I wouldn’t tell him where I was going or why. “I love you Sean,” I told him as I kissed him goodbye. The two policemen drove me to my parents’ house. On the way, I told them about my time with Crispin and especially about why we broke up. They were very interested in all I told them.
There were calls from Jane and from Neeta before we’d been travelling for half an hour. Sean had been busy on the phone, trying to find out if anyone knew what was happening. But of course, I couldn’t tell them.
It was a similar story with my parents. I was bombarded with questions that I insisted I couldn’t answer. Everyone was worried for me. I was obviously in big trouble. But if that was the case, why hadn’t I been arrested? No one was any the wiser.
The days at my parents’ house were tense and, as I couldn’t share my problems with anyone, I was under a lot of stress. My father, particularly, kept questioning me as to what I had done. My stock answer of ‘nothing’ didn’t convince him. I had to be in serious trouble for the police to be involved. And then it all became clear to him – I was a witness to a major crime and I was in a ‘safe house’. My reaction was enough to convince him he was at least partially right.
My father scoured the internet for any recent major crime stories, but whatever he suggested, I denied it. It was easier telling the truth than repeatedly telling him I couldn’t say yes or no. Fortunately, there was no news about Crispin, or if there was, my father didn’t think it was significant.
On the following Tuesday morning, I received a call from DC Brooks asking if he could visit me for a few more questions. “You told us before, Rusty,” DC Brooks began, “that when you terminated your relationship with Crispin, this friend of his, George, said he was supplying Crispin with ‘medication’. Can you remember what types of medication he was referring to?”
“Obviously Viagra or something similar. And something to keep him from being tired. Something that gave him energy. I’m afraid I don’t know what it was. I don’t take drugs myself and I’ve never wanted to know what drugs did what.” I told him.
“You said Crispin went abroad a lot. Do you know where, or who he went with?”
“The only placed he ever mentioned was Barcelona. And he never said who he was with or what he was doing. It was just ‘business’.”
“And these weekends that you were invited to. Do you know any of the other people involved?”
“No. That was the first and only time I’d heard about anything like it. I dare say George will know, if you can find him.”
“Oh, we’ve found him. But he’s not being very cooperative. We have enough evidence to send him away for a very long time. We think you are safe now. You can go home when you like. Today, if you want. I’ll give you a lift.” It was a relief to be able to go back to Sean and my friends. I gave a brief explanation to my parents, thanked them for putting up with me while I was grouchy and stressed, and apologised for not giving them information earlier.
Back home with Sean and my friends, I could only tell them a fairly sanitized version of why I had been away. There would be further questions. I would need to be present at the coroner’s court because I was mentioned in the suicide note. I would have to answer questions but the coroner would be aware of the circumstances and would be gentle with the questions. I wouldn’t have to reveal the intimate details. That was a big relief.
On the journey home, I asked what was in the note Crispin had left. DC Brooks couldn’t divulge the details. The note would be presented at the inquest. “But it seems your walking out on him as you did hit him hard. It seems he had real feelings about you,” DC Brooks confided.
“Well, they weren’t reciprocated, I can assure you. After that last time, I wanted nothing more to do with him. I hated him.” The rest of the journey back was fairly quiet.
Two days later, Jane phoned me. “Have you seen the Courier?” I hadn’t. “I’ll bring it over. Simon’s on a course.”
Half an hour later I was reading the latest news. It seemed there was now doubt as to whether Crispin actually committed suicide. The police were now questioning whether it had been murder made to look like suicide. George had been charged with drug smuggling and there was a suggestion that Crispin’s frequent visits overseas could have been to collect and deliver drugs. There was a final throw away line at the end of the report that Crispin’s ‘suicide’ note suggested the involvement of an ‘as yet unidentified female’.
I went cold when I read that. What did they mean by ‘involvement’? Fortunately Jane reassured me it couldn’t be me. The information in the paper could only have come from the police. I hadn’t been involved with any drugs activity and the police knew my name, so I couldn’t be the ‘unidentified female’. When Jane went home I felt much better.