Watching You: A Novel

‘Jack!’

‘God. Joey. Thank God. What’s going on? Are you still there?’

‘Yes! They’ve been questioning me for over an hour!’

‘About what?’

‘They think I did it, Jack! You have to get me a lawyer!’

‘They think …?’

‘They think I killed Nicola Fitzwilliam!’

‘What! But that’s …’

‘I know. It’s nuts! But they have so much evidence! They found a bit from my boot. Next to the body!’

‘What?’

‘It doesn’t make any sense. But it was there. They showed me the photo. It was in the blood.’

‘Joey—’

‘Just get me a lawyer, Jack. Please. The best one you can get.’

‘Alfie’s here—’

‘I don’t want to talk to Alfie. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m just – I’m so scared, Jack. I’m so scared!’

Jack sighs. ‘I’ll call David Moffat. He’ll be able to recommend someone. Just leave it with me. But, Joey. Listen. Don’t say one more word to anyone. Not one more word. Not until the lawyer arrives. Promise?’

Joey sniffs. ‘I promise. God. Of course I promise. Just get someone.’

The line falls silent for a moment and Joey listens to the rhythm of her brother’s panicked breathing. Then she says, ‘I have to go now, Jack. I love you so much. I love you so, so much.’

‘I love you too, little sister. Take care.’

Then the call cuts off and Joey sits with the receiver limp in her hand until someone takes it away from her.

RECORDED INTERVIEW

Date: 25/03/2017

Location: Trinity Road Police Station, Bristol BS2 0NW

Conducted by: Officers from Somerset & Avon Police

POLICE: Your name please.

TF: Thomas Robert John Fitzwilliam.

POLICE: Thank you. And your full address?

TF: 16 Melville Heights, Bristol BS12 2GG

POLICE: And if you could just confirm your relationship to the victim?

TF: I’m her husband.

POLICE: Mr Fitzwilliam, could you tell us exactly where you were last night between the hours of 6 p.m. and 9 p.m.?

TF: I was at school between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m.

POLICE: And were there any witnesses to corroborate this statement?

TF: Yes, a few. I was in my office for most of that time; I also spent a short while in the staff room, socialising. And I left the building at the same time as Mr Kirk, my deputy. Our cars were parked side by side.

POLICE: And at 7 p.m. you left the Melville Academy?

TF: Yes. Or just after.

POLICE: And then?

TF: Then I drove into town.

POLICE: Where exactly did you go?

TF: I went to the harbour and I parked my car in the Nelson Street car park. Then I walked to the Bristol Harbour Hotel. I got there at about seven twenty-five.

POLICE: And did you talk to anyone when you got there?

TF: No. I took a lift straight up to a room.

POLICE: Can you remember the room number?

TF: No. No, I can’t. It was on the first floor.

POLICE: And what did you do when you got to the room?

TF: I knocked on the door. Josephine Mullen answered. I went into the room.

POLICE: And then?

TF: I kissed her.

POLICE: Did she reciprocate?

TF: Yes, she did. At first. But then, very quickly, it became apparent that neither of us was feeling comfortable with the encounter. That it had been a mistake. So I left.

POLICE: And what time was this?

TF: Roughly seven forty.

POLICE: So you returned to the Nelson Street car park and drove home?

TF: That is correct.

POLICE: A journey, typically at that time of night, of around twelve minutes?

TF: Yes.

POLICE: Yet you didn’t get home until eight seventeen?

TF: That sounds about right.

POLICE: Could you explain what you were doing between 7.40 and 8.17 p.m.?

TF: I was driving. Just driving around. Trying to get my head together.

POLICE: So you didn’t feel quite ready to come home? To face your wife?

TF: Exactly.

POLICE: Mr Fitzwilliam. Would it be fair to say that your relationship with your wife was somewhat strained?

TF: No more so than anyone else’s.

POLICE: So you wouldn’t say that there was possibly a physical aspect to your relationship, that maybe, occasionally, stepped over the boundaries of normal marital discourse?

TF: No. I wouldn’t say that.

POLICE: So, you didn’t tell Ms Mullen that you had a sado-masochistic relationship with your wife?

TF: No. Not at all.

POLICE: Mr Fitzwilliam. As well as the multiple stab wounds to your wife’s chest and back, there was also some bruising to her neck. The bruising appears to be quite old, at least a week or two. Could you explain this bruising?

TF: No. I have no explanation for that.

POLICE: So, the bruising wasn’t inflicted by you?

TF: No. Not as far as I’m aware.

POLICE: As far as you’re aware?

TF: No. I mean no. It wasn’t.

POLICE: And do you have any idea what might have caused it?

TF: None whatsoever.

POLICE: This isn’t the first time you’ve been brought in for police questioning, is it, Mr Fitzwilliam?

TF: [Sighs.]

POLICE: In April 1997, you were held for questioning at Burton Police Station in relation to the death by suicide of Genevieve Hart, a student at the school where you were teaching.

TF: [Sighs.] Yes. That is correct. But I don’t see what it has to do with—

POLICE: Her parents believed they had evidence that you’d been having some kind of inappropriate relationship with her.

TF: They did not have evidence. They had a diary with some references to her feelings towards me, some flowery descriptions of our – entirely normal and appropriate – encounters. Nothing else.

POLICE: There was some suspicion at the time, was there not, that according to what she’d written in her diary, you had arranged to meet her at the location where she took her life. That she had been expecting you to be there.

TF: No. There was nothing in her diary to suggest an arrangement to meet with me. Nothing at all. She alluded to an arrangement of some sort and her parents assumed it was with me. But it was not. I had a rock-solid alibi and the police let me go within minutes. And again, I don’t see what any of this has to do with my wife’s murder.

POLICE: We’re just trying to form a picture, Mr Fitzwilliam, a fully rounded picture. Ms Mullen tells us you made a very sudden and specific invitation to her earlier in the week to meet at a certain place, at a certain time. In order to have – or at least to talk about – having sex. It suggests a pattern of behaviour, Mr Fitzwilliam. That’s all.

TF: I did not arrange to meet Genevieve Hart for sex. I did not arrange to meet her, full stop.

POLICE: Then who, in your opinion, did?

TF: [Groans.] I’m sorry, officers, I really am, but I am not prepared to answer any more questions about Genevieve Hart. No more. OK?

POLICE: Fine. Fine. Moving back, then, to the timeline of events last night. You returned home at 8.17 p.m. And then what?

TF: I let myself into the house. There was no one there. I called out for my wife. She’d been ill all week and she’d spent the day before in bed. So when she didn’t reply I went up to our bedroom. She wasn’t there. So I went through the rest of the house, then I went back downstairs and opened the kitchen door and that was … [Silence.]

POLICE: That’s OK, Mr Fitzwilliam. Take your time.

TF: She was there. Nicola. On the floor. She was dead.

POLICE: Did you check for any vital signs?

TF: Yes. Yes, of course I did. But it was clear to me that she was dead. Just from looking at her. The amount of blood. I mean, she must have been dead for some time.

POLICE: Well, actually, Mr Fitzwilliam, the forensics report suggests the time of death at approximately 7 p.m. to 8.30 p.m.

TF: Does it?

POLICE: Yes. It does. And now, moving on to your call to the emergency services. This came through at 8.40 p.m. Could you tell me, Mr Fitzwilliam, what you were doing between the time of your return at 8.17 p.m. and the making of the phone call at 8.40 p.m.?

TF: Well, as I said, I went upstairs. Looking for Nicola. And I … yes, I used the toilet. The one in our en suite. I might have spent some time in there.

POLICE: Twenty minutes?

TF: No, possibly not twenty minutes.

POLICE: So, let’s say five minutes? Shall we? And then you came back downstairs and found your wife. So, fifteen minutes later you called emergency services. Please can you explain what you were doing during those fifteen minutes?

TF: I was … God, I don’t know. I was crying. I was in a state of shock. I went back through the house, searching for the killer, searching for clues. I went into the garden … [Crying.] … It all felt like a blur. It didn’t feel like fifteen minutes. It just didn’t.

POLICE: And then?

TF: My son returned. At some point. I don’t really know when. And then we sat in the hallway and waited for the police to come.

POLICE: Thank you, Mr Fitzwilliam. I think we’ll take a break here.