The Flower Girl Page 10

  I had to stop myself from saying ‘wow’ out loud. He wasn’t just one of the world’s most handsome men, he was charming with it. I should have been jealous or resentful and hated this man, but I wasn’t. I was just so happy to see him and happy that he was on my side, or at least I thought he was.

  “I’m really happy that it’s you investigating my case” I said and I meant it.

  “Yeah. Well, don’t be too happy Steve. I won’t be doing much investigation. My understanding is that it is pretty much an open and shut case and, to be honest Steve, I’m really not that bothered. I am only doing this job for 12 months to make merit with Buddha, make friends with my dad and save face for my mum. Believe me, you think you have problems!”

  “What!”

  “My life hasn’t been easy Steve. I’m cursed with good looks and plagued by women who get me in more trouble than you would ever believe. So I have sort of been forced into doing this job. It has taken a lot of money and called in favours to get the Detective’s job and I want to be here even less than you do. Shall we sit down?”

  “Have you ever solved a murder case before?” I asked hopefully.

  “No Steve. I haven’t.”

  “Have you ever been on a murder case?”

  “No Steve. Nothing. To be honest, I’m only on this one because it is a cut and dried case and my dad has paid a lot of money to have a murder case on my CV. But I‘m not what you would call a career detective.”

  “Oh! I was hoping that I was going to get a really good detective. You know. Someone who can piece the clues together and solve it, even against all the odds.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that Steve. I’m afraid you have got me and, as I understand it, we have pretty much got you…..by the balls.”

  “But Sawat, I haven’t done anything.”

  “Of course you are going to say that Steve.”

  “But, I really haven’t.”

  “Yeah, again. Not much of a defence Steve. You are going to be charged with the murder.”

  “You haven’t even interviewed me!”

  “Are you going to admit the murder?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there is not much point then. I can just say that you refused to be interviewed if you like. It will save us both the trouble.”

  “I want to be interviewed. I want to tell my side of the story. You can’t just charge me without any evidence or a confession or something.”

  Sawat opened the laptop and turned it on. He typed in a password, pressed something and turned the laptop towards me.

  “This is as good as a confession, Steve. It shows you re-enacting the murder for the officers on the way here after they arrested you for the murder.”

  I watched myself filmed on the mobile phone. I was pointing to the rock that was used to murder Pin and then miming picking it up and bashing her on the head with it and then carrying a body to the edge of the cliff and throwing it over the edge. It looked quite bad when actually watching it on the video.

  “I wasn’t re-enacting the murder. I was miming what had happened, as I understood it, to the officers, because they didn’t speak English very well and I just wanted to show them where it had happened and which rock had been used” I protested.

  “That’s another thing Steve. The rock that you pointed out to the officers has been examined. We have strands of hair and traces of blood on the rock and DNA shows that this was the murder weapon that was used to kill The Flower Girl. Funny how you know that Steve! Not just identified the murder scene, but actually pointed out the very rock that you used to kill her.”

  “No! It wasn’t like that at all. Please interview me Mr Deewat. I have so much I have to tell you. Well, as much as I can remember. My head is in a bit of a spin at the moment.”

  Sawat gave out a deep sigh.

  “OK Steve. But just remember I’m only doing this because I’m a good person. I didn’t become a police detective to solve crime or deal with prisoners. I told you, I have my own problems and I am sort of making my own personal journey here Steve. I don’t want work to get in the way of that. OK?”

  “OK. Sorry.”

  Sawat ripped the plastic wrappers off some tapes and dropped them into the slots of the tape machine. He pressed play and, after a buzzing sound for a few moments, it went quiet. Sawat introduced himself and asked me to give my name and date of birth. He then cautioned me and told me that he was now going to interview me for the murder of Miss Pin Pistok, otherwise known as The Flower Girl.

  “Yes. I understand” I announced, leaning over to talk into the machine deck.

  “You can just relax Steve. The mike will pick up your voice.”

  “OK. Sorry.”

  “So, your name is Steven West?”

  “Yes. That is correct.”

  “And you knew Pin, The Flower Girl?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And you were her boyfriend?”

  “Well, I thought that I was. But it wasn’t really……..”

  “Steve, did you tell Nui, the mamasan from The Drunken Monkey Bar, that you were the Flower Girl’s boyfriend or not?”

  “Yes I did say that, but…..”

  “Are you English?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Did you know that the police wanted you in connection with the murder of The Flower Girl?”

  “No. Not at first. I didn’t know what was ………”

  “You didn’t see the Wanted Posters?”

  “Yes, I saw them………”

  “Did you recognise yourself on the Wanted Poster?”

  “Yes, of course, but like I say………”

  “So you did know that you were wanted by the police for the murder of The Flower Girl?”

  “Well, yes, but……..”

  “And what did you do when you realised that the game was up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What did you do when you realised that the police wanted you for the murder of The Flower Girl? Did you go and hand yourself in to the police?”

  “No.”

  “So what did you do Steve?”

  “I went on the run.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said that I went on the run.”

  “That’s correct Steve. And what else did you do?”

  “Nothing. I just bought some sunglasses and a hat.”

  “And why did you do that, Steve?”

  “Well, for a disguise and I cut my hair as well, but the reason was……”

  “So you went on the run. You changed your appearance and started to wear a disguise to avoid arrest. To avoid justice?”

  “Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that. I need to explain…..”

  “What else did you change Steve?”

  “Nothing. That was it. That was all I did.”

  “I’ll ask you again. What else did you change Steve, or should I call you Steejon East?”

  “Oh that! That didn’t mean anything, I just…….”

  “Well, you say it didn’t mean anything Steve but, in my book, you cunningly and very cleverly changed your name and your nationality!”

  “Well yes, I did say that I was Welsh, but that’s not really changing my……..”

  “Very clever, Steve. You are like a fucking mastermind criminal. You have thought of everything. Have you been on the run before Steve?”

  “No never!”

  “Or just never been caught before?”

  “No. I have never been caught for anything in my life.”

  “So, you are a very accomplished, cunning, clever and dangerous criminal?”

  “No. Not at all, I have just never done anything………….”

 
“The police were forced to draw their weapons in order to arrest you Steve. Why didn’t you just give yourself up when you were surrounded?”

  “What!”

  “Why didn’t you just put your hands up and surrender when the police had you cornered?”

  “It wasn’t like that……”

  “And then, after arrest, you suddenly had a rush of guilt or remorse and you wanted to point out the murder scene to the officers when they were bringing you to the police station?”

  “Yes. I wanted to point out the murder scene……”

  “And you wanted to identify the actual murder weapon?”

  “Yes. Of course. I thought it was important….”

  “And you showed the officers how the body was then thrown over the cliff and into the sea?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “She had no chance of surviving that did she Steve?”

  “No. I would say that she had no chance.”

  “A cold blooded murder Steve?”

  “Yes. It definitely was.”

  “Do you think she deserved to die like that Steve?”

  “No. Absolutely not. It is shocking……”

  “So Steve, you tell me, is the murderer evil or just crazy or both?”

  “I don’t know” I said, shrugging my shoulders. I wasn’t enjoying the interview. I didn’t think I was getting the chance to explain and Sawat was basically telling the truth about everything, but it sounded much worse when he said it.

  “OK Steve. Let me recap what you have said. You murdered The Flower Girl about a year ago and now, for some reason, you have returned to the scene. When someone realised that you were the English boyfriend who nobody knew anything about, you were circulated as wanted for the murder and you decided to go on the run. You changed your appearance and started wearing a disguise. You changed your nationality and your name and, when finally cornered by armed police, you still resisted arrest. You then took officers to the murder scene and pointed out the murder weapon, which we have confirmed as the murder weapon through DNA. I think we have just about covered it Steve.”

  “I didn’t say that I had murdered The Flower Girl.”

  “I don’t think you have to Steve, it’s pretty obvious.”

  “But Sawat, I didn’t do it.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to admit it Steve. OK. I’m ending the interview now, mate.”

  “I want to talk about everything some more.”

  “No. No point Steve and, to be honest, it absolutely stinks in here. You have a think about everything you have already told me and maybe I’ll see you tomorrow Steve.” The tapes were clicked off and Sawat smiled a very sympathetic smile as he wrapped labels around them.

  “Sawat, I really haven’t done this. I think it is a man called Dean, but I never thought to say that on the interview.”

  “Don’t worry Steve. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  “I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday.”

  “Have you got any money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can ask one of the officers to go and buy you some food, but you will have to give them something for going for you. See you tomorrow mate.”

  I really liked Sawat, but he didn’t seem very interested in my case.

  I was taken back to my cell and a feeling of doom and despair descended and seemed to fill the whole grey painted cell. It squeezed me until I found it hard to breath and I had to take tiny little breaths. It felt as if a truck was parked on my chest. I liked Sawat Deewat and I think we had just become friends, but I could tell that he didn’t believe that I was not the killer. I think that said a lot about Sawat, that he was still so nice to me even though he thought that I was the murderer. I was even more determined to prove to him that I was an innocent man and then, maybe, we could be real friends. He seemed like a really nice bloke.

  It was a very long hot day in the cell. I was hoping that at some point I would be taken out for some exercise and fresh air, but they must have been very busy because I was just left in the cell all day until I could tell by the creeping darkness that it had become night again. I was feeling a bit weak with hunger now. I had wanted to ask one of the officers to go and buy me some food, but nobody had come to see me, so I just lay on the concrete floor and waited.

  My mind drifted off into a million thoughts that, at first, didn’t seem obviously connected. I started off thinking about Sawat and what problems could he possibly have in his life. I worried a bit that he thought that I was a criminal mastermind, but I still had the feeling that we had somehow become friends and I really liked him. Then I thought about Pin, The Flower Girl, and what she had told me about her life. That led me to thinking about my life and my childhood and especially my mum and dad. I know that I am not a very nice looking man and I know I can be a bit stupid sometimes. I have a tendency to just take people at face value and all my life that has got me into trouble. I was an ugly child too. I was awkward and difficult and always seemed to say and do the wrong thing. It must have been very difficult for my mum and dad to love me, but I know that they did, no matter how disappointed they must have been when I was born.

  I know that they were disappointed. Well, at least to start off with, because my dad told me when we got back to the house on the day we buried mum.

  “I like you son and we are going to be alright” he said, pulling my head into his chest for a hug. “But you were an unwelcome accident and, even after we decided that we had better keep you, we were hoping for a girl. But you arrived instead. Jesus! You were the ugliest baby I had ever seen.”

  “I’m sorry dad” I sobbed. I wasn’t crying because my dad thought I was ugly. That was old news and I already knew that I was. No, I was sobbing because we had just buried mum and I never got to tell her that I loved her as much as I wanted too.

  I had always had a very sheltered life. My parents were already quite old when they had me. They told me that I had an uncle and a cousin in Scotland somewhere, but I never got to meet them. I had a few friends amongst the local kids on the council estate where we lived, but I wasn’t a popular child and I was the target for most of the jokes and pranks. I didn’t mind. I just stayed in a lot and spent time watching TV with mum and dad, and tried my best not to disappoint them. It wasn’t always easy, because things just didn’t seem to work out for me like they did for other people and I always seemed to let them down. When I was a kid I used to watch the children’s TV programme Blue Peter. They had a tortoise on the show and so I begged and pleaded with my mum and dad to get me one. They argued that it would be a useless pet, but I had set my heart on having one. Eventually they agreed to get me one for my birthday present. I was thrilled when I got it and just like the tortoise on Blue Peter I painted its name on its shell. ‘Speedy’ (I always had a sense of humour). I loved Speedy, because he stayed in the garden and sat around a lot, just like me. I was only 9 years old and Speedy was tropical and exotic. Well, at least to me he was. As winter approached the presenters on Blue Peter packed their tortoise into a cardboard box with straw and put it in a warm cupboard for its winter hibernation, so I thought I had better do the same for Speedy. I knew that mum wouldn’t want it in the house and the only cardboard box that I could find was the one in the shed that had two new deckchairs inside it, ready for next summer. I slipped Speedy down the side of one of the deckchairs, thinking that he would be OK to sleep on his side. Anyway, in the spring time, Blue Peter woke their tortoise up by placing him in a little tray of warm water and letting him have a drink and a feed on some fresh salad. But unfortunately, I must have missed that programme episode and I forgot all about Speedy until the summer arrived a few months later. When I went to wake him up there was just an empty shell. I thought that he had run away from home at first, but with the horrible smell and pile of maggots in the bottom of the bo
x, I soon realised that poor Speedy must have passed away in his sleep. Mum went mad about the mess on her new deckchairs and I wasn’t allowed anymore pets.

  My mind flitted from scene to scene from my childhood. It wasn’t in any particular order and I didn’t try to analyse the thoughts that were now taking up my entire being. I thought about my mum dying of cancer and I wasn’t told that she was dying. I knew she was ill of course, but nobody told me how ill. Over a period of nearly a year she just spent most of her time in bed watching TV and my dad spent most of his time sitting in the room with her. Whenever I asked my dad about her, or asked if I could see her, he just used to say “She is fine son, but she doesn’t want to be disturbed right now because she is resting.”

  Sometimes I would listen at their bedroom door. I don’t know what I was listening for really. I only ever heard the TV set and their voices were too low and mumbling to hear what they were saying. In my heart I was sort of hoping that they would be talking about me. I just wanted them to love me really. I always knew that they loved each other, but I sometimes had serious doubts about where I fitted into the family unit. We all shared the same house, but not much else.

  Mum had been dead for nearly a week before I was told. I hadn’t been in the house when the funeral undertakers had been to collect the body. My dad told me the day before the funeral that we were going to bury my mum the next day. He was a broken man and I didn’t know what I could say to make him feel better. My own heart was breaking too as it sunk in that my mum was now gone forever. I hugged my dad and, instead of pushing me away, he just hugged me back. I think it was the start of a change in the relationship with my dad. Over the years we just got closer and, although I had always loved my dad to bits, I think he started to love me back. Well, in his own way I think he loved me. He told me lots of stories about my mum and I wished I had known her better when she was alive. In a lot of ways I think dad and I came to depend on each other and the house became a happier place to be. He was very proud of me when I got a job in the factory making plastic mouldings, a job I still have, or did have before I was arrested for murder in Thailand.