‘Hold fire,’ said Kay. ‘Let’s find out if Greg can tell us anything first. Ken probably knows Barnes has the rabbit, but he might not realise we know its significance yet. Not given the way our last two conversations have gone with him, anyway.’
‘Do you think it’s him?’ said Gavin.
‘Slow down,’ said Kay. ‘One step at a time. Let’s get these other witness statements together first. Given what that family’s gone through in the past two weeks, we can’t afford to make a mistake. We need to be sure we’re right about this. Speaking of which – Debbie, can you phone Andy Grey and ask him to get his team to work through the CCTV images from last Friday night again in the vicinity of East Farleigh. What sort of car does Patricia Wells drive – anyone?’
‘A black four-door hatchback, guv,’ said Laura.
‘Right – that’s what they’re looking for, Debs.’
‘Guv.’
Kay raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, don’t just sit there, you lot.’
The team scrambled out of their chairs, and within seconds the incident room was a cacophony of noise. She signalled to Barnes as Sharp walked in, and brought the DCI up to date.
‘Where are you off to now?’ he said.
‘The prison, to interview Greg Victor. We’ll come back here afterwards to debrief with Carys and Gavin to find out if there’s anything that ties in his statement with that of Patricia Wells.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Once we have those, we’ll make a decision about Ken Archerton. And, Barnes – good work.’
Fifty
Gavin adjusted his tie, attempted to flatten down his hair, then gave up and slammed shut the locker door.
Wrenching open the door into the main corridor, he sidestepped a female police constable concentrating on the radio clipped to the front of her vest, and hurried to join his colleague.
Carys swept the case files into her arms and pushed back her chair as he strode towards her.
‘Ready?’
‘Yeah. Has she calmed down?’
‘Quiet as anything once she was shown into a cell.’ The detective constable grinned. ‘It was only a glass of water. Good job you had a clean shirt in your locker, though. I thought two of the admin girls were going to faint with excitement when they saw you walk in.’
Gavin rolled his eyes. ‘Is her solicitor here?’
‘Just arrived.’
‘Let’s go.’
He held open the door for her and followed her down the stairs, musing about Patricia Wells.
When they had turned up at Kenneth Archerton’s house, the carer had answered the door with a glass of water in her hand, and had told them Archerton was at a doctor’s appointment, having taken a taxi into town.
When Carys had informed the woman that she was required to answer questions at the police station and that she was expected to accompany them immediately, Gavin had taken the brunt of the woman’s reaction.
The water had hit him square in the face.
While he’d stood dripping on the doorstep, Carys had formally cautioned Patricia before marching her to their car.
His colleague had nearly laughed, and spent the entire journey back to the station with her jaw clenched, unable to look at him.
Now, he opened the door to the interview room and noticed that an air of reticence clung to Patricia.
She sat next to her solicitor – a man by the name of Douglas Carter – wearing a meek expression as Gavin and Carys took their seats.
He set out his notes as Carys started the recording and recited the formal caution.
‘My client would like to apologise for her earlier actions,’ said Carter. ‘She overreacted.’
Gavin said nothing, opened the file in front of him and took his time turning to a new page of his notebook. He checked the time on his watch against the clock on the wall, popped his pen, and wrote along the top line before relaxing into the back of his chair.
Finally, he addressed the woman in front of him.
‘How long have you worked for Kenneth Archerton?’
Patricia pushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. ‘About five months.’
‘How did you get the job?’
‘Through an acquaintance. She said she knew a businessman who’d recently been diagnosed with MS and needed some part-time help.’
‘Which organisation are you registered with?’
Clearing her throat, Patricia cast a glance at her solicitor, and back to Gavin. ‘I’m not. I have all the right qualifications, though.’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Are they valid?’
‘Yes. Of course they are.’
‘Where did you get your qualifications from?’ said Carys.
‘France.’
Gavin stopped slouching, and rested his hands on the table. ‘Whereabouts in France?’
‘Laval. It’s west of Le Mans. There’s a community college there. When I split up with my husband, I moved over there for a while. I wanted a change of scenery. Then the money ran out, and I knew I’d have to find something to do.’ She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Ageing population, isn’t there? At least I had a good chance of not being made redundant.’
‘When did you come back to England?’
‘About a month before I started working for Mr Archerton.’
‘Had you spoken to him before then?’
‘No – my friend sorted it all out. I had an interview with him the week before I started, as a formality, but that was it. I suppose you could say we hit it off straight away.’
A sly smile crossed Carys’s lips, and then she tugged a copy of an email from the folder beside Gavin and spun it around to face Patricia. ‘We’ve spoken to Annette Victor, who confirmed your story. Unfortunately, the community college in Laval has never heard of you.’
Patricia’s eyes widened as she read the email.
‘Have you ever seen Kenneth Archerton walking without the aid of his sticks?’ said Gavin.
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Who is the friend who put you in touch with him?’
‘Why? She’s got nothing to do with this.’
‘We’ll need a name.’
Patricia shoved the email back across the table to him. ‘No.’
‘If you won’t help us, we can’t help you,’ said Carys, and left the email where it lay. ‘Can Archerton drive?’
‘What? I don’t know. He always gets me to drive him anywhere, or if I can’t or he wants to run some errands, he gets a taxi like he did today.’
Gavin forced himself to stick to the interview plan he and Carys had agreed with Fiona Wilkes, despite his desperation to demand the answers they sought. He took a breath, then pulled out one of the photographs from the crime scene at Tovil and held it up.
Patricia gasped, and rocked back in her seat as she took in the shattered features of Robert Victor.
‘Does Ken Archerton own a gun?’ he said.
‘I-I don’t know.’
‘Think carefully, Patricia. Do you think Ken is going to protect you when we speak with him?’
The woman’s jaw worked, and then she motioned to her solicitor and whispered in his ear.
Carter nodded, and then turned to the two detectives. ‘I’d like a word with my client in private.’
‘We’ll be outside.’
Gavin pushed his chair back, waited for Carys to end the recording, and then gathered up the contents of the file and moved out to the corridor. He spun on his heel as his colleague slammed the door.
‘We’ve got him, haven’t we?’
‘Almost.’ Carys exhaled. ‘I wonder how much she knows?’
‘Depends how much he trusted her, I suppose. Do you think Ken simply employed her as part of the ruse that he was sick, or do you think she’s more involved?’
‘She has to be in on it, doesn’t she?’
‘Gav!’ Debbie appeared at the door through to the stairwell and waved a sheaf of paper at them. ‘Andy’s sent through t
he CCTV results from East Farleigh.’
He took the outstretched pages from her and held them so Carys could see at the same time. Each one was a still taken from a security camera on the southern side of the medieval bridge crossing the River Medway.
And in each, a four-door black hatchback with a licence plate matching that registered to Patricia Wells was shown driving over the bridge, then turning left into the car park beside the river.
‘Gotcha,’ said Carys.
‘We can’t see who’s driving it, though,’ said Gavin. ‘Are there any more angles, Debs?’
‘No, sorry – that’s all we’ve got. Those were clocked at ten-fifteen on Friday night.’
He frowned. ‘It was still quite light then.’
‘Might’ve waited in the car park,’ said Carys. ‘Let it get dark, and then wander along to the boat. There was less chance of being seen by any residents or dog walkers.’
The door to the interview room opened, and Douglas Carter appeared. ‘My client wishes to have a word.’
‘I’ll bet she does,’ said Gavin under his breath. ‘Thanks, Debbie.’
He followed Carys back into the interview room, closed the door and started the recording once more.
‘Before you say anything, you might want to take a look at these,’ he said, and placed the photographs in front of Patricia.
She paled, but said nothing.
‘We haven’t got all day, Patricia,’ said Carys. ‘Do you have anything to say?’
‘I got a phone call at the beginning of April from a woman I’d bumped into in Laval – she approached me one day while I was sitting in a café trying to read the job adverts on my laptop. She latched on to the fact I was English, and I suppose she guessed I needed the money.’ Patricia twisted her hands together. ‘She told me she worked for a private client who had business interests in France, but that he lived in Kent. She said he had recently been diagnosed with MS, but was still quite independent. He simply wanted someone to be on hand to do the cleaning and washing, but who could help if he took a turn for the worse. I told her I didn’t have any qualifications for that, but she just said not to worry about it – that she’d sort it out so if anyone asked, it wouldn’t be a problem.’
She leaned over and held her head in her hands. ‘I know I was stupid, but I needed the money. My ex-husband and I, we weren’t well off or anything, and my savings were starting to run out. Most of our friends were his, and I didn’t know what else to do. So, I took the job.’
‘Is he sick?’ said Gavin.
‘No. He said he needed me to help him keep up appearances.’
‘Who was the woman who recruited you?’ said Carys.
‘Beatrice. I don’t know her last name. She works for Mr Archerton on the French side of his business.’
‘Are we still talking about the wine merchant business, or something else?’
‘The other business. The drugs.’ Patricia exhaled. ‘Look, I only found out by accident a few weeks ago. I overheard him talking on the phone one afternoon – he didn’t realise I was outside the study at first. I think he must’ve smelled the furniture polish I was using, because when he’d finished he called me in. What could I do? He asked me if I’d heard anything, and I said yes but that I’d keep quiet because I didn’t want to lose my job. He told me that I could expect to earn a lot more for my loyalty.’
‘And you didn’t think to report this?’
‘I couldn’t! I needed the money for a start, and what would have happened to me? He knew I visited my mother in Leicester from time to time – I used her address on the CV I gave to Beatrice because she specifically asked for a UK one. What if he’d harmed her? You’ve seen what happened to Robert.’
‘Tell us about his illness. We have statements here to suggest you were the one who took him to his GP appointments, and to see a specialist he was seeing in Manchester. Who was he really meeting with?’
Patricia’s shoulders slumped. ‘The GP appointments were real. He has high blood pressure.’
‘And Manchester?’
‘It’s the other end of the drugs business. That’s where they’re planning to ship them to. Ken likes me to drive there so he can work while we’re travelling. He’s in the final stages of getting it all set up.’
‘Can you describe this Beatrice?’
‘About my height. Medium-length black hair. Slim. Not skinny, but not fat, either.’
‘What happened on Friday night?’ said Gavin.
‘Ken told me he was going into town to meet a friend,’ Patricia said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘He said he didn’t need me to drive, that it was only a short distance and there wasn’t much traffic on the road.’
‘Had he ever driven your car without you before?’
‘Once or twice. Only at night, though. So he wasn’t seen, I suppose.’
‘What time on Friday?’
‘He left at about nine forty-five. He was in a foul temper – I’d heard him shouting on the phone in the study an hour before, and I worried when it went quiet. I knocked and asked if he was okay, and he said he was and that he didn’t want to be disturbed.’
‘What time did he get back?’
‘About eleven-thirty. He went straight upstairs and showered. When he came back down, he asked me to bring him a light supper. When I took it into the study, he was sitting with a tumbler of brandy staring into space with a fire burning in the grate. He didn’t say anything to me, and I didn’t want to ask. I put the tray of food on the desk and left.’
Fifty-One
Kay shoved her mobile phone back into her handbag, and then forced a smile as she rejoined Barnes next to the security gate into the prison.
‘Have you made your excuses as well?’
‘Luckily we were only planning on having a Chinese takeaway tonight,’ said Barnes. ‘Pia sends her regards.’
‘About time we all got together again. I meant to ask you over to ours earlier in the summer, but it’s gone past so quickly.’
‘That’d be good.’ Barnes squinted up at the security camera. ‘They do know we’re waiting here, right?’
She scuffed her shoe against a stone, sending it flying. ‘Probably busy.’
Turning at the sound of the gate opening, she gave him a nudge and then walked through into the prison.
The requisite security checks took twenty minutes until the guards were satisfied that all the procedures had been followed. Once all their belongings had been confiscated, Kay and Barnes were led to an interview room.
Cameras jutted out from the walls, and a table and fours chairs took up most of the space.
‘His solicitor has arrived at the gate, so we’ll show him and Victor in presently,’ said the guard who had accompanied them.
‘Thanks,’ said Barnes, and leaned over to familiarise himself with the recording equipment.
Kay hugged her arms around her waist and leaned against the wall while they waited. She wondered if Alice had any idea of the chain of events she’d triggered by dropping the soft toy while on the run with Greg. If she hadn’t, would they have ever known?
Robert Victor’s murder could have remained unsolved for years, and yet here they were, tantalisingly close to the answers they’d been seeking.
She pushed away from the wall and moved to one of the chairs as the door opened and the guard showed in Greg Victor.
The man had a shrunken appearance, the toll of the past week evident in the lines that knotted his brow, his shoulders slumped as he shuffled across to the seat opposite hers.
His solicitor hovered at the threshold, waited until the guard had advised his client of the process to follow, then nodded his thanks as the man left the room.
‘Detectives, I’m Andrew Gillow – senior partner at Blake Arrow. I’m currently representing Mr Victor in the absence of my colleague. It’s late in the day, so shall we get on with it?’
Kay handed the solicitor one of her business cards, and then gestured to Barnes
to begin.
After making sure the digital recorder was working, he recited the formal caution and turned his attention to Greg.
‘Kenneth Archerton hasn’t got multiple sclerosis, has he?’ he said.
Greg swallowed. ‘No comment.’
‘We know that the toy rabbit that Alice dropped in the canoe you stole contained a substantial quantity of illegal drugs. Do you have anything to say?’
‘No comment.’
‘Your brother, prior to his death, suspected his father-in-law of illegal activities that may have endangered his daughter,’ said Kay. ‘Maybe he thought he could try to gather some evidence before coming to us. Maybe he wanted to confront Kenneth with that evidence in order to get some answers. But he didn’t get the chance, did he? Because Kenneth found out he was poking his nose in, and killed him. Why? Why take such a risk?’
‘I can’t.’ Greg closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’
‘Please, Greg. We’re planning to speak with Ken, but without your help I can’t arrest him. Not based on hearsay. I need something I can work with.’
Kay held her breath, unable to think of anything that would change his mind. She knew she was close, but––
‘Robert asked me to help him get Alice out of the country. I was scared Ken would harm Sadie if he found out I was involved.’ Greg blinked, then ran a hand across his mouth, sweat beading at his temples.
‘Your daughter?’
He nodded.
‘Has he threatened you or your daughter in any way?’
‘He doesn’t need to – I know what he’s capable of.’
‘What do you know about the toy factory in northern France? Did Robert tell you?’
‘Yes.’ He wiped his palms over his face, and then leaned forward, his arms folded on the table. After a sideways glance at his solicitor, he took a deep breath. ‘It was why Robert asked me to move down from Nottingham – so I’d be at the house while he was at work. It’s why he asked me to take Alice away that night. I didn’t kidnap her. Well, not at that point. Robert was planning to come home to confront Ken. The boat trip was a last-minute decision – he phoned me on Tuesday night to tell me he was travelling up past Le Mans, that he had to go and take a look at something he thought Ken was doing with the business behind the scenes. He wanted to know Alice was safe – he already had his suspicions about what Ken was getting involved in. He just didn’t know how he was doing it.’
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