Connie Beauchamp stared at the bare concrete walls of her cell and at the locked metal door, the viewing flap shut tight. Her teeth were chattering but all Connie could do was lie on the lumpy mattress and huddle her body into a ball. There were thoughts whizzing through Connie's mind; she couldn't think how she had got here and it seemed as if there was some kind of block on what had happened the previous night. Connie looked down at her trembling hands and noticed the dull residue of dried blood but there wasn't a scratch on her. It wasn't her blood but then whose?
The cell door opened and a large gruff-looking woman entered, the cell keys swinging beside her waist; she eyed Connie with a gaze of pure contempt and then proceeded to beckon her towards the still open door. Connie watched her with apprehension.
"Get a flamin' move on will yer?" The gruff woman was in no mood to dawdle and when Connie stayed beside the bed, she marched over and forcibly grabbed the shaking surgeon; her fingernails dug into the gaps between her shoulder blades. "I don't have the time for yer to mess me about." Connie swayed groggily and rubbed her eyes. Particles of blood fell into her eyes and they began to sting but there was no use mentioning it.
"Wait!" Connie didn't know why she called out, all she knew was that she had to say something. Obviously there must have been some kind of mistake and if she just explained it would all be sorted. That was the idea, Connie thought as she drew herself up to her full height but still below the impressive height boasted by the gruff woman. The gruff woman scowled.
"Yer forget yer place missy," and she spat gracelessly at Connie's feet. Connie scraped her shoe along the floor to wipe away the foam. "Yer just do as yer told and yer'll get no trouble, got it?" Connie cleared her throat.
"I may be nothing to you," Connie paused and looked deep into the gruff woman's cold grey eyes. "But I am still a surgeon and you will address me as Mrs. Beauchamp. Do you understand me?" Connie's moment of defiance was met with a simple response. The gruff woman raised her hand and struck Connie hard across the face; the surgeon stumbled and almost fell.
"In here yer just missy. Get in there," the gruff woman grabbed Connie and threw her into the dingy interview room where a thin man with horn-rimmed glasses stood like a silhouette among the shadows. Connie checked behind to see if the gruff woman was still watching her but to her immense relief, the beast was gone. She watched the thin man but he made no movements and seemed to be ignoring her. She took a step towards him.
"Please be seated," the voice that floated through the air was unlike anything Connie had expected. It was soft and yet it had an undertone of menace that chilled her insides. She stayed standing. "Take a seat." Connie registered that it was no longer a polite request and duly sat down at the table. The thin man remained in the corner of the room with his back to her. "Press record." Connie reached over to the tape deck and pressed record gingerly. "Thank you." She stared at him but quickly looked away as he turned to face her; his horn-rimmed glasses carefully balanced on the very tip of his nose and his lined features complimented by small black eyes and a mop of untidy grey hair. Yet he could not have been any more than forty at most.
"I need-"
"My name is Detective Chief Inspector Alan Richmond," Richmond cut across her. "And you are Mrs. Connie Beauchamp." Connie nodded; evidently she was not required to speak at this point. "I had the rather dubious pleasure of meeting Michael Beauchamp recently." Connie frowned; that was a name she hadn't expected to hear again. "Tell me how is Michael these days?" Connie didn't answer. Richmond stepped out of the shadows and leaned towards her. "I asked you a question," he said in a dangerously quiet whisper. Connie gulped.
"I don't know, I haven't spoken to Michael in years." Richmond let out a contemptuous cold laugh. There was a click and Connie heard her voice fill the room.
"What is the meaning of this Michael?" There was a pause and then the unmistakeable sound of her former husband's voice answered.
"I needed to see you Connie." Connie tried to make out the background noise; it sounded as if they were standing on a flyover as cars drove on to their destinations.
"I've said all I have to say to you," Connie brushed Michael aside and her footsteps echoed on the stone pavement. Michael ran to catch up with her.
"Listen Connie you don't understand! I'm in trouble, big trouble." Connie stopped.
"You are trouble." Michael started to retort but Connie spoke over him. "I don't have time for this today Michael, I have to get going. Some of us still have a career."
"I always knew you were a heartless bitch." There was a click and the recording finished; Richmond glared at her in the gloom and Connie's heart sank.
"I think we get the picture."
"I forgot," Connie muttered.
"Quite a big thing to forget don't you think?" Connie shook her head. "That was taken three days ago." Connie narrowed her eyes.
"What does that have to do with today?" Richmond laughed again.
"Everything Mrs. Beauchamp. It has everything to do with today." He was right in front of her now, leaning across the table so that his eyes met hers and Connie could feel his rasping breath as he spoke.
"What am I doing here?" Connie tried to make her question seem innocent but Richmond slammed his fist on to the table. Connie jumped.
"They always ask that," Richmond spat. "There's always some kind of an excuse, a plea of innocence." He cleared his throat and his voice took on a whiny quality. "It wasn't me, it wasn't me, they say. I weren't there honest mister. It makes me sick."
"I am telling you the truth," replied Connie, daring to push him as far as she could. "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here." For a moment it looked as if Richmond might believe her.
"What's the last thing you remember?" His voice was quiet and understated again but his lips were white and the fury had not quite died from his eyes. Connie took a deep breath.
"I remember leaving the hospital after my shift and then I…and then I…" Connie paused as she stumbled over her words.
"Slow down," said Richmond. "Keep it steady. I'm listening."
"And then I woke up in a cell." Connie sat back and waited for Richmond's answer.
"And that's all you remember?" Connie nodded. Richmond leaned towards her again and opened his mouth to reveal crooked teeth yellowed by nicotine. "Do you want to know what I think?" Connie shook her head. "I think you're a bloody liar and I'm going to get the truth out of you if it's the last thing I do." Connie's hands were trembling and then she felt her whole body begin to shake as Richmond continued to stare at her, his eyes unblinking and focussed.
"I'm not lying," Connie knew there was nothing she could do to convince him but she had to try. "I woke up and there was dried blood on my hands but I honestly don't know how it got there."
"Think." That was all Richmond had to say to her as he watched Connie squirm.
"It's all a blur!"
"Think!"
"I'm trying!"
"Think!" Back and forth it went but it was no use; no matter how hard Connie tried she couldn't explain. Richmond scratched his long nails along the table; Connie held her hands to her ears to block out the excruciating screech. "I'm asking you for the last time Mrs. Beauchamp. What happened?" Connie didn't reply. Richmond smiled at her but somehow this only served to make Connie feel even worse; his smile was like a clown in a child's nightmare. The silence between them unnerved her and he just stood there smiling. "WHAT HAPPENED!" Richmond's question echoed like a thunderbolt across the room but Connie was ready.
"I CAN'T REMEMBER!" There was a beat and it looked as if Richmond was mildly impressed by her defiance but whatever he felt, it was short-lived as he leaned over to glare at her.
"Connie Beauchamp, I am charging you with the murder of Michael Beauchamp." Richmond continued to speak but Connie heard none of it. Her entire world had just gone numb and Richmond's words seemed to echo around in her head. Michael. Murder. It couldn't be true, could it? Connie's heart thumped in her chest as she stood up and was led back to her cell.
