A Perfect Likeness (34 page)

Edward Page’s expression never changed. He remained calm as he sat back from the interview room table with his legs crossed and his hands clenched against his stomach. He took occasional sips of water to wet his drying mouth. He didn’t speak for a few moments, but when he did it was to continue his denial. ‘It’s quite a list, Inspector, but we both know it’s all untrue. You and your colleagues have been very busy fabricating this nonsense and I imagine it is probably better for me to get my solicitor here to sort it all out. His name is James Colwick and his office is …’

‘Yes, we know all about Mr Colwick, Sir,’ said Fraser. ‘He’s been a regular visitor to your house since we’ve been watching you. At most unusual hours I might add. Trouble is, Mr Page, your Mr Colwick is also a non-paying guest of ours and is not in a position to be of assistance to you either now or in the foreseeable future. But don’t let it worry you, we are required to provide you with a real solicitor.’

For the first time Page let his mask slip. He was uncomfortable, losing his posture of resistance. He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward and rested both forearms on the table. His head fell forward and his eyes closed.

‘Seems to me,’ continued Fraser. ‘Your cosy little world is beginning to disintegrate around you.’

‘One final point, Mr Page,’ said Deckman, ‘it relates to who you really are and then we’ll let you have a rest while we contact the duty solicitor for you. It will give you time to think over your position. You are not Edward Page at all, are you? Of course you are not. And your daughter is, of course, not even your daughter. Neither is she Sylvia Page. And you never owned a boat business in America and you never lived in England prior to moving to America . How are we doing, Mr Page, too close for comfort I imagine?’

Page just looked, smiled and shook his head. The few seconds of silence appeared much longer as Deckman and Fraser sat staring at their detainee. ‘Absolute rubbish,’ said Page. ‘Who makes these stories up for you?’

‘We also know that you went to Moscow for a couple of days,’ said Fraser. ‘What was the reason for your visit, Sir?’

‘The Moscow Boat Show.’

‘My turn to say absolute rubbish,’ said Deckman. ‘Let me tell you who I think you really are and why you went to Moscow. I have a strong suspicion your real name is Yaroslav Androkov and I believe you went to Moscow to seek revenge against the man who killed your wife.’ He slid a copy of the English version of the
Moscow Times
which had the murder of Anton Chernov as its headline story.

‘Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish,’ Page repeated pushing the paper away. He was agitated, his fingers drumming on the table top. ‘Get me that solicitor so we can get this nonsense sorted out. I’m not saying anything else.’

‘Yes, Sir, of course we will. But, just to let you know, we have spoken with Moscow police headquarters and informed them we are interviewing a suspect who may also be the man they are looking for in connection with the Chernov murder. They have already matched finger prints found in Chernov’s flat to those on your military service records and we have sent yours over for matching. I’m sure they will match perfectly. Aren’t you, Mr Androkov? Take him back to his cell, Sergeant, and do what we normally do under these circumstances. We wouldn’t want to allow him the opportunity to do something silly now, would we?’

*

‘Yes, Inspector,’ said Sylvia Page, her eyes burning with anger and hatred. ‘I am perfectly aware of who you are. You are the person who forced his way into my home, forced me here at gunpoint with ridiculous allegations and then left me smouldering in one of your dirty cells. Oh yes, Inspector, I do know who you are and let me tell
you
something, by the time this is over you’ll be sorry you harassed me in this way. I will make sure you pay for this humiliation.’

Fraser looked across at his superior, and raised his eyebrows. ‘I reckon she’s got it in for you, Guv. Seems like you’ve got some explaining to do. Why don’t you just clarify to Her Ladyship exactly why she is here and she may then be a little less bolshy, if you’ll pardon the pun.’

Sylvia Page glared at Fraser. ‘And another thing,’ she said, turning her attention back to Deckman, ‘I refuse to sit in here, alone with two men. I demand to have a woman present.’

‘You’re hardly in a position to make demands, Miss Page, but I’m sure DS Fraser will see if there is a WPC available.’

‘And a glass of water as well,’ she shouted as Fraser reached the door.

‘He turned and bowed his head. ‘Yes, Ma’am, right away.’

‘Huh, this is a horror movie.’ She thumped the table top with clenched fists. ‘Where’s my father?’

‘Mr Page, if that is who you mean, has been returned to his cell. We’ve had a long chat and he’s gone away to think about it. I think he was quite surprised at what we have told him.’

Fraser returned with a young WPC who sat on the chair by the door. He took the chair at the end of the table and pushed the mug of water across to Sylvia Page, spilling a few drops as it caught a torn section of the leather inlay. Deckman sat opposite Sylvia Page.

‘We have such a lot to talk to you about, Miss Page,’ began Deckman, ‘and we could be here for quite a while. May I suggest it would be a lot quicker if you were to cooperate fully and honestly with your answers.’

Sylvia Page made no comment.

‘Your full name, please?’

‘You have it.’

‘All right, do you have a middle name?’

‘No.’

‘Your address?’

‘You know it.’

‘Okay, let’s try it another way. You live at the address where you were arrested?’

‘Yes.’

‘Miss Page, you say you are innocent of any wrong doing, so may I suggest you respond in a more civilised way. Date and place of birth, please?’

‘Err …’
What was on my passport
, she thought. ‘It was Reading, but I can’t remember the date. I always forget it. It’s on my passport.’

‘You were brought up in America, I understand. You attended school there and had lots of local friends?’

‘Yes, to all. Are all these questions really relevant, Inspector?’

‘Very, Miss Page. Before we go any further, let me just remind you that you have already received you official caution and I will again confirm your right to have a solicitor in attendance during your interviews.’

‘Innocent people do not need solicitors. Let’s get this over with so I can get out of here. You need good cause to detain me and you do not have the slightest reason.’

‘I am sure you will change your mind within the next few minutes. We have been watching the movements of you, your
father
and Mr Rawston for several weeks now, so I can tell you we know a great deal about you all. And your activities.’

‘I knew my father was here, but I didn’t know you had Tom as well. He’s done nothing.’

‘That’s strange, Miss Page, a matter of minutes ago your father seemed to think if there was anything illegal going on, then Mr Rawston could be involved without either himself or you knowing anything about it.’

‘He wouldn’t say that, he thought too much of Tom. Why is he here?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t have him here, Miss Page,’ said Fraser.

Sylvia Page smiled as she responded. ‘Managed to avoid you, did he? A bit more clever than you gave him credit for.’

‘Why would he wish to avoid us if he’s nothing to hide?’ Fraser continued.

She knew she’d made a mistake. She fidgeted in her chair, changed her position. A little less relaxed. ‘Umm… where is Tom then?’ she asked, desperate to know what had happened but not wishing to make any more errors.

‘Regrettably, Mr Rawston didn’t wish to come along with us, Miss Page,’ said Fraser. ‘And, to make matters worse, he did some rather silly things. Actions that proved to us he was far from being an innocent man.’

She became aggressive. ‘Why did you say ‘was’? What have you done with him,’ she shouted, standing up as she slapped the desk top with the flats of here hands. The WPC stood up, anticipating a possible problem.

Fraser noticed Sylvia Page flexing her right hand, just as Trish Lister had told him.

‘I demand to know. We would be married by now if, if …’

‘If what, Miss Page?’ asked Deckman

‘Not important.’

‘Guv, shall I?’

‘Go ahead, Sergeant. She ought to know.’

‘Tom Rawston resisted arrest, Miss Page. He smashed one police officers jaw, shot another and took a woman hostage before crashing Blue Star into the marina breakwater at full speed. It exploded on impact. I’m afraid he’s dead, Miss Page.’

Her face twisted in anger. ‘You’ve killed him, you bastards.’ Her eyes aflame with hatred. Her right hand flexing as it grasped the wooden handle of the killing knife she wished that she was holding. ‘The only man I’ve ever loved and the only man who’s ever loved me. And you have killed him.’ She stood again, smashing her right fist on the desk top, knocking over the mug and wetting Deckman’s trousers with the spilt water. He didn’t react.

She smashed her fist down again, as if thrusting her knife into the now, lifeless body of one of her victims. She stopped, sat down and cried.

Deckman nodded towards the WPC who had got up and was standing next to Sylvia Page. She placed her right arm around her heaving shoulders and offered a tissue.

‘I’m very sorry, Miss Page,’ she said. ‘Here, take this.’

Sylvia Page’s left arm swung out at full force, her elbow hitting the WPC in the stomach and sending her groaning to the floor. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she screamed. ‘Don’t touch me, you are murderers, all of you.’

‘I’m okay, Sir,’ said the WPC as Deckman helped her up. ‘A bit winded, but nothing else.’ She retook her position on the chair by the door.

Sylvia Page became quiet, staring vacantly in the direction of Deckman.

‘Any more of that, Miss Page, and you’ll be charged with assault of an officer,’ said Deckman. ‘I’ve made you aware we have had surveillance on you for some time, so do you wish to help yourself by making a full confession of your criminal activities?’

‘No. I’m guilty of nothing.’

‘In that case, allow me to inform you just what we know you have been up to. Firstly, drug smuggling and distribution. Secondly, the operation of a prostitution ring and illegally importing women for that purpose. We know who all the women are, where they carry out there trade and we have photos of you speaking to them. We also know that they all live in houses owned by your company, Blue Tree Properties. Now it gets more gripping, Miss Page, because we have sufficient evidence to associate you with the murder of two women we believe were made to work as prostitutes. And it is my belief you murdered a woman named Victoria Campbell and used her identity during a trip to Spain. Now do you have anything you wish to say?’

‘No.’ She continued her unblinking stare at Deckman.

‘That …’ began DS Fraser before he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

WPC Gabby Gale entered holding the black book found in Sylvia Page’s safe. She handed the book and the translation to Deckman. ‘Sorry to burst in, Sir, but felt it important for this interview. The final page referring to Miss Lister makes interesting reading.’

On hearing Trish’s name, Sylvia Page snapped out of her trance, looked at the book being handed to Deckman. It was her book. ‘Trish,’ she screamed. ‘It was her was it? She has done all this. I should have killed her on the boat.’ She grabbed the empty mug, smashed it against the desk and slashed out at WPC Gale with the broken piece of the pottery. She moved too fast for anyone to stop her. A jagged edge sliced deep into her throat and remained there as Sylvia Page let go. ‘That’s for you, Tom. That’s for you. You were right about her.’

WPC Gale dropped to the floor, her attempted scream sounding more like a last gasp for air.

‘Ambulance with paramedics, urgently,’ ordered Deckman from the open door. ‘And two officer’s, in here,
now
.’

Fraser had handcuffed Sylvia Page who had returned to her near trance like state, but now displaying a hideous, twisted smile of satisfaction.

She looked down at the still body of WPC Gale, let out a high pitched shriek and attempted to get out of the chair, but was forcibly restrained by DS Fraser standing behind her. ‘There you are, Inspector,’ she shouted with the full force of Fraser needed to keep her seated, ‘that should have been that bitch Trish Lister lying there to complete the final page of the book. It doesn’t matter, this one is just as good. You are all the same.’ She spat on the body of WPC Gale.

Fraser raised a clenched fist and was about to strike Sylvia Page.

‘No, Sergeant, don’t do it. I know how you feel, but no,’ said Deckman.

‘Sorry, Guv. Get this creature out of my sight,’ shouted Fraser to the two uniformed officers, ‘before I lose control altogether. Take her back to her cell and throw away the key.’

‘Help is on the way, Gabby,’ said Deckman, kneeling besides her. Try and relax, you’re going to be fine.’

She tried to speak, but couldn’t. She tried to raise an arm, but couldn’t.

‘No, Gabby, don’t try. Just remain perfectly still.’ He turned to Fraser and quietly told him to contact Gabby’s husband and get him to go straight to the hospital.