‘Not without a confession.’
Chapter Forty-One
It had been one of those nights, his mind racing, tossing and turning; trying not to wake Jane up. At least he didn’t have Monty curled up on the end of the bed, although he might have taken him out for a walk if the dog had been there.
Now he was sitting in the corner of the small canteen area at Taunton Magistrates’ Court, reading the research Sarah had been doing before she’d slipped out to check the barn.
Family trees – incomplete, sadly – but she’d been on the right track. Before anyone else too.
A bright kid.
‘All parties in the case of Diana Hope-Bruce to court one, please.’
Dixon obeyed the tannoy, catching the crown prosecutor in the waiting area outside the court; the same crown prosecutor who had been there the day of his own appearance before the magistrates.
‘You’re the officer in the case of Diana Hope-Bruce?’ asked the prosecutor, his face flushed.
‘I am,’ replied Dixon.
‘Look, I hope you don’t think—’
Dixon raised his hand, silencing the prosecutor mid-sentence. ‘If you’d objected to my bail application it might be different,’ he said. ‘But there are no hard feelings. None at all.’
‘Thank you.’ The prosecutor looked relieved. ‘And you’ve been promoted, I see,’ he said, examining the identity card dangling on a lanyard around Dixon’s neck, although that was more to avoid making eye contact, possibly.
‘Don’t remind me.’
‘What about Diana Hope-Bruce, then? Clearly a flight risk, it seems to me.’
‘She won’t flee. There’s too much at stake.’
‘She’s charged with the manslaughter of her three-month-old baby, concealment of a body and child abduction, so we would ordinarily resist a bail application as a matter of course.’
‘Don’t,’ replied Dixon. ‘A condition of residence will be fine. Reporting daily to Taunton police station, and surrender of her passport too, but I want her out – need her out.’
‘If you say so.’
It had been a short hearing, the magistrate even giving him a cheery smile. It was the same one who had granted him bail and she clearly remembered him, but then it wasn’t every day a detective chief inspector was up in front of the magistrates on a murder charge.
Happy days.
He could almost laugh about it now. Almost. But not quite.
News of the hearing had reached Express Park before he had, the result being Charlesworth and Deborah Potter lying in wait, Charlesworth springing out of the open door of meeting room 2 like a trapdoor spider.
‘In here, if you’ve got a minute, Nick.’
He had, as it happened.
‘What’s this I hear about Diana Hope-Bruce getting bail?’ asked Charlesworth, closing the door behind Dixon, loudly enough to convey his displeasure. ‘We didn’t object to bail being granted, I’m told.’
‘We didn’t, because we don’t, Sir,’ replied Dixon.
‘She’s clearly a flight risk,’ said Potter, chewing her reading glasses; it was becoming a habit.
At least there was no press officer hovering this time.
‘I disagree. It’s certainly not in the public interest to remand her in custody. And, besides, I need her out and about.’
‘I’ve had my opposite number from Devon and Cornwall on the phone, bending my ear about Sergeant Wevill and the mysterious second set of remains,’ grumbled Charlesworth. ‘Stirred up a bloody hornets’ nest in Torquay, that has.’
‘It was one of their officers leaking information to the press, Sir. Anyway, the article had gone from the website when I checked, and the local rag can easily print a correction.’
‘That’s what I tell him, is it? He says the information came from us.’
‘Tell him to tighten up his recruitment process and be a bit more careful who he promotes.’
‘That’s your suggestion, is it?’
‘I’m quite happy to tell him myself, if that would assist, Sir,’ said Dixon.
‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’
He thought not.
‘Good news about Sarah Loveday,’ offered Potter. ‘She’s come round and is talking, even had something to eat.’
