The Road to Crosslands

Chapter 15

'This is a recorded interview with Mr John Simpson conducted in interview room four, Cumbria Police Carlisle Divisional Headquarters on Sunday, October 13th 2019. The time is 08:00 hours. Detective Sergeant Ian Dawson and Constable Helen Murray are the officers in attendance. Mr Simpson is under caution and is represented by the duty solicitor, Sheila Robertson.'

The questioning didn't take long. I admitted everything. With so many witnesses there was no point in denying what I'd done. I just told them the facts. William Stone and Kevin Murphy had killed my brother. I was absolutely sure of it. They had virtually admitted it to me. I explained what had happened to Paul back in 1999 and related the clues I had gleaned from our conversations in the motorhome. As I was making my statement, I noticed that the two police officers kept glancing at each other and frowning. I couldn't understand why. My story seemed perfectly straightforward to me. I killed them, but I had credible mitigating circumstances.

'We need to check a few things,' the detective told me, switching off the video recorder. 'I'll have some tea sent in.'

***

'I would advise you not to say too much, Mr Simpson,' the duty solicitor said as soon as they left the room. 'This is not looking good. The evidence against you is overwhelming and your allegations are all circumstantial. As I explained before, you are perfectly within your rights to answer "no comment" to any questions.'

'I'm not trying to hide anything,' I stressed. 'I had a good reason to kill those bastards and I'm sure any jury will understand.'

***

Fifteen minutes later DS Dawson came back in with his sidekick and explained that he had called the coroner to double-check the identities of the deceased. Then he handed a sheet of paper to my solicitor.

'That is a copy of the official charge sheet ... John Simpson, I'm formally charging you with the murders of Mr Ian Chapman and Mr Stephen Brown. I'm going to recommend that bail is refused due to the likelihood of flight.'

I stared at the detective in disbelief as the room swayed around me. For a moment I thought I was going to faint.

'Would you like a glass of water, Mr Simpson?' the female constable asked.

I nodded and she left the room.

'Who ... who the hell are Chapman and Brown?' I stammered, praying I'd misheard.

'Were, not are,' he corrected me sternly. 'A lorry driver and his mate ... on their way to deliver a load of industrial equipment to a company in Dumfries when they were mown down and run over ... three times.'

I couldn't comprehend it.

'But Stone and Murphy,' I stammered. 'The motorhome ... where are they?'

'That old van you used to kill them has been taken to the police garage for forensic tests. It's shown as registered to a Mr T Griffiths in Weston-super-Mare for the last ten years, and there's no one called Stone or Murphy at the motorway services.'

***

They took me back to the custody cell and I curled up in a ball on the hard bed. I was too numb even to cry. My senses reeled with the enormity of my terrible mistake. I'd murdered two innocent men and I knew I deserved to spend the rest of my life in prison. How could I ever face Lynn and my daughters if they came to visit me? 

Now I knew why they made prisoners remove their belts and shoelaces. At that moment I would have used anything I could get my hands on to end my nightmare.

I guessed that Flinty and Spud had made a quick exit as soon as they'd seen the mayhem I'd wreaked. They wouldn't have hung around to be asked any awkward questions. They'd be out on the road somewhere, thumbing a lift to Glasgow.

 And I was sure that, within a few hours, they'd be having a whale of a time ... downing the first of many pints in the Crosslands.