‘How?’ persisted the police lady.
‘I told him to . . . stop emailing me.’
Cartwright was nobody’s fool. She just looked intently at Emily.
‘All right, I told him to fuck off and leave me alone and that he was a sad loser. OK?’
Cartwright’s pen scribbled away furiously, asking the odd question about the content of the emails. I got the impression that to her vast and unseemly experience, the emails weren’t even mildly offensive. As she explained wearily, there were guys out there beating seven bells out of their wives and girlfriends every night — often killing them.
In the background PC Carpenter poked about the flat, making obvious comments like. ‘So this is the bathroom.’
I could see why he wasn’t a detective.
As I got to the end of the story, PC Cartwright’s back got straighter and her frown of concentration more intense. Coming to the end of the story, I explained how Daniel and I had seen Peter on the tape, and realised that he’d been in the flat, even before we’d come home to find the unmentionable in the fridge.
Cartwright looked sharply from me to Daniel, and then from Daniel to Emily. She shook her head slightly. I think she thought he was running a harem.
‘We’re definitely dealing with a harassment matter. Have you had any further contact with the young man?’ she asked.
Emily shook her head.
Cartwright pinched her lips tightly and hesitated before she spoke again. ‘This could escalate. I would like you to be aware of that. What we can do, if you would like us to, is warn him about his behaviour under Section Two of the Harassment Act.’
‘What does that involve?’ asked Emily, gnawing at her lower lip.
‘He’s officially warned in person by a police officer and a record is made of this on computer. After that warning, if he persists in his behaviour, we have the power to arrest him and it could go to court. In that case, your video footage would then be evidence. In the meantime, you best hang on to it,’ explained Cartwright, her wrinkled eyes narrowing into something resembling a sympathetic smile.
PC Carpenter returned from his amble around the flat. ‘If you could prove that it was him chucked the brick through the window, you might get him for criminal damage. Did you report it at the time?’
‘Yes,’ I piped up. ‘I’ve got the crime number.’
‘What about your neighbours? Any of them see anything?’
‘Doubtful. The junk shop downstairs is empty at night, the owner lives several doors down and we’ve never even seen the people on either side.’
‘Might be worth popping and asking them,’ observed PC Carpenter.
‘What about the scarf?’ asked Daniel.
Cartwright patiently explained that it was circumstantial evidence and unless we could prove that Peter had taken it from the flat, the police had no grounds to arrest him and seize the scarf for forensic examination.
Talk about unsatisfactory. Basically, we had no proof.
‘What about breaking and entering?’ asked Daniel, bewildered that the law didn’t seem to be able to help.
‘I’d like SOCO to come round and see if they can get some fingerprints from the fridge.’ She sighed wearily. ‘Normally they wouldn’t come out for harassment but this... well... I think it warrants it. Don’t touch the fridge again until they’ve seen it.’
‘Socko?’ asked Emily. ‘What’s that?’
‘Scenes of Crime Officers,’ I piped up. Cartwright raised her eyebrows at me. I smiled weakly. ‘Too many crime thrillers. Not first-hand knowledge.’ I almost added, honest. I always had a compulsion around the police to let them know I was a good, upright citizen.
‘Carpenter, can you get on to that right away,’ said Cartwright, ignoring us both. ‘Might be a good idea to get them here as soon as.’
‘Will do.’
‘So in the meantime, what next?’ asked Daniel. ‘Two girls living on their own. The locks have been changed, but what if he comes back?’
WPC Cartwright softened slightly at his visible frustration. ‘Look, I understand you’re worried. We can flag this address so that if you call 999 there’s a note on the computer about what’s been going on. If anything happens, you’ll be a priority. In the meantime, we’ll contact,’ she looked at her notebook, ‘Barney Snowdon, and see if he can give us this Peter’s contact details. If all else fails, we’ve got his email address and we can contact the service provider.’
