‘Bullshit!’ Danbury countered. ‘You’re a typical woman – either too lazy or too stupid to think things through properly. So what do you do? You look for the easiest – least complicated – solution. In nine out of ten cases, if the wife is dead, then it’s the husband who did it – so I must be guilty, mustn’t I?’
‘We don’t base our investigations on statistics we’ve collected on other crimes, Councillor Danbury,’ Paniatowski said calmly.
‘No, you probably don’t, ‘Danbury agreed. ‘That’s more the sort of thing that a male detective would do. But I’m willing to bet your methods are even cruder than that. If a man’s clearly weak, then he doesn’t scare you, and so he couldn’t possibly be the killer. But if he’s strong – if you find him intimidating – then you want him banged up as soon as possible, because that way you’ll feel a little bit safer in yourself.’
‘That’s ludicrous,’ Paniatowski said.
‘You’re attempting to punish me because I didn’t cry, aren’t you?’ Danbury ranted. ‘If I’d had tears streaming down my face, you’d have ruled me out as a suspect by now.’
‘It’s not as simple as that.’
‘It’s exactly as simple as that. So let me make my position – and, if you like, my feelings – crystal clear.’
‘William …’ the solicitor said ineffectually.
‘My wife’s death came as a shock to me, particularly given the violent nature of that death,’ Danbury said. ‘I was very fond of her, and I will miss her a great deal. But I am not devastated by her death – because only the weak allow themselves to be that. My life will go on without her. It has to go on without her. I owe that to my boys. And unless you can find some devious legal way to stop me, I intend to pick up the boys and take them home as soon as I leave this police station.’
‘You can’t take them home – that’s still being treated as a crime scene,’ Paniatowski said.
‘Very well, then, I’ll book a suite at the Royal Victoria. But I will be with my boys – it’s my right.’
She could fight him over this, Paniatowski thought, but Danbury could appear rational enough when he wanted to, and he had his solicitor to back him up, so she would only be wasting valuable investigation time, and she would ultimately lose.
‘In my opinion, the best thing you can do for your children is allow them a couple of days of stability and continuity in the foster home,’ she said.
‘Whatever were they thinking of – making a woman a chief inspector?’ Danbury said sneeringly – but also sounding genuinely mystified.
Maggie Thorne had taken refuge in the staff toilets. She had been expecting the police to visit EasyClean, true enough, but that still didn’t make it any easier when they did eventually turn up.
She examined herself in the mirror, and saw a woman of thirty-five who seemed slightly butch (no accident, that, it was the look she strived for), but was otherwise unexceptional.
She could do this, she told herself. She could come across as perfectly ordinary – perfectly innocent. The trick was not to lose her temper, because once she did that, she had no control over anything, and would go in whatever direction the red mist pushed her – and to hell with the consequences.
‘Just keep calm,’ she whispered – and there was a hint in that whisper that she was already worrying she might not. ‘Just keep calm, and you’ll be all right.’
She rolled up the right sleeve of her overall, and bent her arm. In the mirror, she saw her bicep bulge – and immediately felt better. She always felt better when she saw how well her hours of dedicated work in the gym had paid off.
There was a knock on the toilet door and a male voice said, ‘Are you in there, Maggie?’
‘Yes, Mr Clayton,’ she called back.
‘The police are ready for you now.’
And she was ready for them, she thought.
‘Just coming,’ she said.
Paniatowski glared at the woman standing in front of her desk.
‘You’re an experiment, DI Flowers,’ she said angrily. ‘You do know that, don’t you? And even after all these years – even after all the cases I’ve closed – so am I. There are people who still don’t believe women belong in the force and are watching every move we make, just waiting for us to screw up.’
‘You couldn’t make me feel worse about Melanie than I already do, ma’am …’ Inspector Flowers began.
‘I’m not talking about Melanie,’ Paniatowski told her. ‘It was a mistake not to check she was really in the bed, but I know why you didn’t check – and I’d probably have made the same mistake myself. So forget all that – what I’m talking about now, inspector, is that you seem to have no control over your team.’
‘With respect, ma’am, you’re quite wrong about that, and I think it’s unfair of you to even suggest it,’ Flowers said.
‘Do you. Well, how do you explain this? When William Danbury entered his home last night, he was already in a state because he knew that his wife had been murdered – and not only that, he knew exactly how she had been murdered. That meant that our first encounter didn’t go quite as well as it might have done.’
‘Ma’am …’
‘I should have been able to break the news to him gently, and watch how he reacted to it. Then, maybe he’d have been able to tell us something useful in return. Then, maybe he’d have been calm enough to take charge of his kids for the night. Then maybe I wouldn’t have got smashed in the face.’
‘Are you saying one of my team gave him those details, ma’am?’ Flowers asked.
‘No, inspector, he’s saying it – but I believe him.’
‘I know the people I had with me last night. I’ve worked with them all before. I’m certain none of them would have told him anything.’
‘Then how did he find out, when the only people who knew what had happened – and who could have spoken to him before he went into the house – were your people?’
‘I don’t know,’ Flowers admitted.
‘I want you to find out who the big mouth is, and I want his name on my desk by lunchtime at the latest,’ Paniatowski said. ‘Is that clear?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Paniatowski waved her hand dismissively. ‘Then you can go.’
Detective Constable Tom Green liked to be liked, which, he recognised, was something of a disadvantage when what you were striving to be was a hard-bitten bobby. The weakness showed in most aspects of his work, but it was at its worst when he was questioning witnesses or suspects, because he had this tendency to veer away from interrogation and end up with conversation.
This time, things would go differently, he promised himself. This time, he would manage to keep things on a purely professional level.
‘So how long have you been working for Mrs Danbury?’ he asked the woman opposite him.
‘I don’t – I didn’t – work for her,’ Maggie Thorne said.
‘But I thought …’
‘I work for EasyClean (Leaves your house like a shiny new pin) Limited.’
‘Of course,’ Green agreed. ‘What I should have said was, how long have you been working at Mrs Danbury’s house?’
‘Must be around eighteen months.’
‘How did you get on with Mrs Danbury?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘She was all right. We didn’t see much of her. She just left us to get on with it.’
‘She didn’t supervise you?’
‘No.’
‘There have even been cases in which one of the people who worked for the victim is actually the killer,’ Shagger Beresford had said at the briefing. ‘He develops a grudge over the way he’s been treated, and, since he already knows the geography of the victim’s home, as well as the victim’s habits, he’s in an ideal position to get his revenge.’
‘But she must have at least inspected your work and, at some point, criticised it,’ Green said hopefully.
‘She didn’t,’ Maggie Thorne replied.
‘You see, Maggie �
��’ Green paused. ‘It is all right to call you Maggie, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You see, Maggie,’ Green said, knowing he was exceeding his brief, and searching for the stars when his eyes should have been firmly on the ground, ‘you see, what we always look for in a murder case is motive. Now it’s possible – and I’ll go no further than that – that Mrs Danbury might have been so rude – so insulting – to one of the EasyClean staff that that person couldn’t rest until he or she had paid her back. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Yes.’
‘Obviously, that person isn’t you, but I’m wondering if you’d witnessed an altercation between Mrs Danbury and any of the other cleaners.’
A look of indecision came to Maggie Thorne’s face.
She’s going to give me a name, Green thought excitedly. She’s going to hand me a suspect on a plate.
‘No, I can’t think of anyone,’ Maggie Thorne said. ‘Like I told you, Mrs Danbury left us pretty much alone.’
‘You’re holding out on me,’ Green said, in a voice which he considered to be a perfect balance between kindly and determined. ‘You don’t want to get any of your friends in trouble, and I can understand that. But you must ask yourself this – do I want to see a murderer walk free?’
‘The people I work with are not my friends, and if any of them had had a row with Mrs Danbury, I’d tell you,’ Maggie said. ‘But they didn’t.’
Green sighed. ‘Thank you, Miss Thorne. On your way out, could you please tell the next one I’ll speak to her now.’
She had made mistakes – she should never have corrected him about her not working for Mrs Danbury, for example – but, on the whole, it had gone well, Maggie thought as she walked down the corridor away from the office.
She had been tempted to accept his invitation to shift the spotlight onto one of the other cleaners, but it had been wise to resist it. After all, they had nothing to hide, but one of them could well have noticed that she had, so the spotlight would soon have been back on her, much more glaringly than before.
Besides, the police were so obviously going in the wrong direction that it was best just to let them carry on.
Jane was no interfering busybody who would insult you if you didn’t do the work to her exacting standards.
The truth was quite the opposite.
Jane was as timid as a mouse, and it was that very timidity which could enrage you so much that you simply had to lash out.
Maggie Thorne felt a sudden wave of nausea hit her. It was just as well that she was close to the toilets when it happened, because she only just made it into the cubicle before she threw up.
Meadows wondered why a woman as young as Gretchen Müller would be so liberal with her use of foundation. It was always possible, of course, that she had a terrible complexion, but her bare arms suggested that she had a very good skin.
What else could be said about the way the au pair was turned out? Her blonde hair was heavily lacquered and was brushed forward, so it covered most of her cheeks like a ski mask. She was wearing a cream silk blouse, which complemented her mid-length green skirt nicely and clung to her small, but very well-formed, breasts.
The blouse suited her perfectly, Meadows decided, the hairstyle not at all. So had the blouse been nothing more than a lucky mistake, or had Gretchen deliberately chosen a hairstyle which would make her look less attractive?
‘I would like to apologise for calling you into the station so shortly after your shocking experience, but given the circumstances, I’m sure you can see why it was necessary,’ Meadows heard Beresford say.
And while his voice was both sympathetic and professional, she caught a subtle undertone to it which told her that, despite himself, he was imagining Gretchen in bed.
‘I want to help in any way I can,’ Gretchen said.
‘Perhaps you could give us an outline of your movements yesterday,’ Beresford suggested.
‘I am sorry? Outline?’
‘Tell us what you did yesterday,’ Meadows said.
‘Ah yes! It was my free day, so I took my motorbike for a – I think the word is “spin” – for a spin in the countryside.’
‘And where did you go?’ Beresford asked.
Gretchen looked puzzled. ‘I have told you – to the countryside.’
Beresford tried again. ‘But where exactly? Did you, perhaps, visit any particular town?’
Gretchen shook her head – but carefully, so as not to disturb her hair.
‘No, I did not go to any towns,’ she said. ‘Towns are too slow for me. I prefer the open road.’
‘But you must have ridden past towns.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And what towns were they?’
Gretchen frowned in what looked like concentration.
‘When I decided it was time to turn around and come back, I was not far from a place called Dundee,’ she said finally.
‘But that’s in Scotland!’ Beresford explained. ‘It’s in another country!’
Gretchen smiled. ‘Is it? I did not see any border posts.’
‘And it must be at least two hundred and fifty miles from here. Are you telling me you drove five hundred miles in one day?’
‘I did not go all the way to Dundee, so perhaps it was, after all, only four hundred.’
‘Even so, that’s at least eight hours’ driving.’
Gretchen laughed. ‘It was much less than that. I have a very big motorcycle, and I am a very fast driver. Sometimes, perhaps, I break the speeding laws.’
‘And it must have been very cold.’
Gretchen shrugged. ‘The cold does not bother me. At home, I swim in the river every day of the year.’
‘Tell us about what happened when you returned,’ Meadows said, cutting Beresford off before he could start to delve further into the life of this highly beddable Amazon.
‘What actually happened? Or what I was planning to happen?’
‘Let’s start with what you were planning to happen.’
‘I was planning to go to a public house in Whitebridge. It is called the Rising Sun.’
‘Had you arranged to meet someone there?’ Meadows asked.
‘No.’
‘So what made you choose that particular pub?’
‘Many boys go there.’
‘And …?’
‘And I thought perhaps I might sleep with one of them.’
Beresford did his best to suppress a gasp. ‘Is that what you always do on your day off?’ he asked.
‘Mostly it is what I do. Of course, if all the boys are ugly – or if there are only old men in the pub – then I will go back to my room and satisfy my urges myself.’
Beresford’s tongue was now hanging out so far he was in danger of stepping on it, Meadows thought. But perhaps all that might change when she asked her next question.
‘Who would you regard as an old man, Gretchen?’ she said.
The au pair shrugged again. ‘I do not know. I have never really thought about it – someone who is perhaps twenty-nine or thirty. Old like that.’
Meadows inwardly chuckled when she heard a rush of air from the thirty-three-year-old man sitting next to her, then, serious again, she said, ‘So when you got back to Whitebridge, you went straight to the house?’
‘Yes, I wished to shower before I had my sex.’
‘And that was when you found Mrs Danbury?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you phone the police immediately?’
‘No, first I went into the garden and was sick.’
‘But then you phoned?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you do next?’
‘I waited by the gate for the police to arrive.’
‘You didn’t check on the children?’
‘No.’
‘Isn’t that strange? After all, you are the au pair, and looking after the children is surely part of your duties.’
‘I looked after them when I fir
st arrived, but I do not like children, and perhaps I did not make a good job of it, because Mrs Jane said that in future she would find me other things to do, and look after the children herself.’
‘How did you get on with the Danburys?’
‘I did not see much of Mr William.’
‘And his wife?’
‘We did not talk much. She had only two interests – her children and her health. When she was not fussing over the children, she was bothering the doctor with her latest illness.’
‘So you didn’t like her?’
‘I didn’t dislike her.’
‘Tell me about her friends.’
‘She did not have any.’
‘Or enemies, either?’
‘It is hard to make enemies when you don’t leave the house.’
‘So you have no idea who might have wanted to kill her?’
‘Perhaps no one wanted to kill her,’ Gretchen suggested. ‘Perhaps she was just in the way of a man who wanted to satisfy his unnatural desires – and those of his friends – with a baby girl.’
‘What kind of motorbike do you ride?’ Meadows asked.
‘It is a BMW R 75/6.’
‘That’s a very expensive bike.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Gretchen agreed.
‘Did your father buy it for you?’
‘No, my father has been dead since many years.’
‘Then who …?’
‘I have known many boys who have wanted very much to keep me happy,’ Gretchen said. ‘The motorbike was a gift from one of them.’
‘The reason I’ve asked to see you, Monika, is so we can decide beforehand exactly how we’re going to handle this bloody press conference,’ Chief Superintendent Holmes said.
‘You’ve been sending patrol cars to Milliners’ Row every time that mad old colonel asked you to,’ Paniatowski said accusingly.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Is he a golfing friend of yours, or something?’
‘If patrol cars have paid more visits to Milliners’ Row than they have to other parts of Whitebridge – and I’m not saying that they have – then perhaps it is because it is one of the more prosperous areas of the town, and therefore a prime target for burglars.’
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