As the detectives approached he had finished loading and had started to slit open the top of the bags, in readiness, they correctly assumed, for feeding when he reached the cattle. When he had slit open the fourth, and last, bag he had seen the detectives approaching, jumped down and leant against the tailgate, waiting motionless for the them to join him.
“Good morning, Mr Sutton. You may remember that I am Detective Inspector King and this is Detective Sergeant Harris.”
Both detectives noted that once again he did not enquire as to the progress on the search for Mary. Neither did he return their greeting, just nodded his acceptance that he knew who they were.
“Just an observation, but as we came through the five bar gate we noticed there didn’t appear to be any padlock or other means of securing it. There have been a number of farm thefts, so aren’t you worried that Quarry Farm could be targeted?”
“It would be a brave thief to steal from us,” Sutton menacingly replied. King wasn’t implying that thieves don’t need to protect themselves from themselves, but if he had been, it was lost on Sutton. He decided to move on.
“Since the last time we spoke, have you had any further thoughts about why Mary Cranson has vanished?”
“I told you then, and I’ll tell you again, I have absolutely no idea what could have happened to her. All I know is you can easily get lost on the moor or trapped in a bog, but as she’s been missing for quite some time, I don’t think either of those things can be the cause. I know it was reported that one of her mittens was found, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s been kidnapped.”
“Quite so. Do you ever have to go to Hound Tor?”
“Fairly often, to keep an eye on our livestock out on the moor. I take it in turns with my dad and my brother.”
A tactic that King often used was to repeat questions he had asked at the first interview, just to see if the story had changed.
“Remind us, when was the last time you were there?”
“I think it was Wednesday and then again on Friday. I can’t remember as when you’re farming, the days of the week don’t really register. If there’s work to be done, we just get on with it whatever day it is.”
“Well it’s important to us that you do remember, so I suggest you give your movements last Wednesday very careful consideration. Last time we spoke you said you were out on the moor looking for your lost knife, but you didn’t see anyone. Is that right?”
“Yes.” The irritated farmer decided to adopt monosyllabic answering to the questions after the mild rebuke from the inspector. “Did you skirt by Haytor on your way there?”
“No.” If Sutton could get away with ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers that suited his rather childish approach.
The ever observant sergeant indicated to her inspector that she wanted to ask a question.
“As we entered the barn to meet you, I noticed that after you put the feed bags in the back of the vehicle, you slit open their tops, which I assume is for ease of feeding when you reach the cattle?”
Dick Sutton nodded his agreement, and the sergeant continued: “Could we see the knife that you used to slit open the bags please, Mr Sutton?”
He reached into his pocket and passed a Swiss Army knife to the sergeant who examined it. The distinctive red plastic cover with embossed white cross was engraved: “To Dick – Love Mum and Dad”.
“When we interviewed you before and asked where you were on the afternoon that Miss Cranson disappeared, you told us that you had got your brother to do the milking for you while you went on to the moor to search for your lost knife. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“So why is it in your possession now?” Sutton abandoned his answering tactic.
“I thought I had lost it when I had been feeding the cattle the other side of Honey Bag Tor. As my mum gave it to me before she died, it is a very precious possession. I didn’t want to lose it and, therefore, I was prepared to spend a couple of hours searching for it. In the end, as it began to get dark, I eventually gave up and came back to the farm, and helped Harry finish the milking. It was a few days later when I was cleaning out the foot well of the quad bike – they tend to get clogged with mud from boots – I found the knife caked in mud. I realised that when I had put it into my trousers, the pocket had become very worn and a hole had gradually developed: the knife must have slipped through that hole into the foot well without me realising it. Sometimes when I’m on the quad bike I stand up with my feet in the wells, if I need more height to scan the moor. It must have been then the knife slipped through my pocket.”
“Are those the trousers you normally wear?” the sergeant asked, and he nodded that they were.
“Can I see the pocket please?” She realised this was tantamount to requiring proof of his story, but made no apology. He rather grudgingly turned his left trouser pocket inside out. If a repair had been done, it was a very neat job.
DI King interjected: “Any repair would be more obvious when viewed from the other side of the pocket. If you would look away sergeant, I’ll ask Mr Sutton to undo his trousers and show me the pocket from the other side?”
He duly did what he’d been asked and the inspector examined the pocket accepting that it had a hand-stitch repair on its corner.
“Okay, Mr Sutton, you can do your trousers up. You must have realised the importance of this investigation and how crucial it is for us to establish the whereabouts of the people who knew Mary Cranson would be on the moor. You were out there at the same time as her, but could not corroborate your account. Didn’t it occur to you to tell us when you found your knife as we are now starting to doubt the reason you were on the moor?”
This was a not so thinly veiled attack on the burly farmer and the detectives awaited his reaction.
“Stop playing games with me. What I told you was the truth. I thought I had lost it and was glad when I found it in the foot well. As I’ve got nothing to hide and didn’t realise I was a suspect, no I didn’t think of telling you.”
King looked suitably sceptical, but moved on to his last question: “I noticed a number of vehicles in the outbuildings on the right-hand side of the farmyard. You’ve got the UTV here, the quad bike is across the yard, together with a horsebox and a Land Rover with a low loading trailer. Who actually is licensed to drive these vehicles?”
“My dad, Harry and me are all licensed to drive all the vehicles, and we all use them from time-to-time. Now if you’ve finished with me, I’ve got some hungry cattle to feed.”
“We’ve finished with you for the time being, Mr Sutton. Thank you for your time.” King’s ‘thank you’ was tinged with more than a hint of sarcasm. With that, they retraced their steps and hoped for a more helpful response from the brother. Before they reached the parlour, the sergeant spoke.
“Did you notice the defect on the back tyre of the UTV?”
“Yes, I did. That vehicle had passed along the track where the mitten was found, but who was driving it and does that in any way implicate the driver?”
*
The detectives pondered for a few minutes before they continued across the yard and peered around the door of the milking parlour. They were surprised as the milking stalls were empty. Harry Sutton was brushing cow excrement in to a heap from the central channel ready for removal. He looked up and immediately approached them.
“Good morning. We were expecting you yesterday. You’ve timed it right as I’ve just finished milking and the clearing up can wait. Any news of Mary?”
This Sutton was unlike his brother in looks and stature. Harry Sutton was a charming, good looking young man and, according to some of his friends, he apparently had an eye for the ladies: many ladies also had an eye for him! Apart from his general appearance, the biggest difference between the brothers was their overall manner. He was far more good-natured than Dick and it was easy to see why he w
as so popular.
King began the second interview with the amiable farmer. “Sadly, no news about Miss Cranson. We just have a few follow-up questions, Mr Sutton. She has been missing for nearly a week now. Since the last time we spoke, have you had any further thoughts about what could have caused her to have gone missing?” The inspector had slipped into re-checking questioning mode.
“I’m as baffled as you appear to be. I can’t think of any reason why she would just vanish or of any person that would want to do her harm.”
“Can you just tell us again where you were and what you were doing last Wednesday afternoon please?”
“I was in the barn across the yard, where I was servicing the UTV. The local garage charges an arm and a leg, so I do it and we just have to pay for parts, mainly oil and a filter.”
“Can you produce receipts for the oil and filter?”
“Probably, but we keep a stock here so I didn’t need to buy them last Wednesday.”
“What time did you start and finish the job?”
“I started a bit later than planned because I was cleaning in here. I suppose it was about 3.30 and I finished just before dad got back about 5 o’clock. I not only changed the oil, but checked it over and pressure washed the underside as it gets very muddy. So, I reckon I finished about a quarter to five. By then I was a bit late starting the milking. Dick got back just before it got dark and helped me finish off.”
“What time did he get back?”
“After dad, so sometime after 5 o’clock I think, maybe 5.15. I don’t wear my watch when I’m milking, so I’m guessing. Could have been ten minutes before or after that time.”
“So you didn’t see anyone from around lunchtime until gone five?”
“Yes. I was just keeping busy doing the jobs that needed doing.”
Before bringing the interview to a close, the inspector asked the question he had put to his brother.
“We noticed as we came through the five bar gate to the farmyard that there was no padlock or other means of securing it. There have been a number of farm thefts recently, so aren’t you worried that Quarry Farm could be targeted?”
“Not particularly. All our vehicles are secure and I think one of us would hear anyone trying to steal anything.”
“Thanks for your time, Mr Sutton. I’d like to see all three of you before we leave as there has been a development on the barn fire.”
“Okay, if you go back to the farmhouse you’ll find my dad there. I’ll fetch Dick if he hasn’t left yet.”
The two detectives approached the house and John Sutton met them, even before they had reached the garden path. Once again, they both thought this was odd as it was the third time he had intercepted them before they got to the house.
What didn’t he want them to see? King could have pursued their curiosity, but instead he tried to catch the gnarled farmer off guard.
“Last time we were here to see your sons, we noticed you left in rather a hurry: why was that? What was so urgent?”
“I wanted to check on some beef cattle we’ve got up in High Spain.”
“That’s interesting as I happen to know that the High Spain field is south west of here: you were heading west and you were using the tractor.”
The oldest Sutton became a little flustered: “Oh yes, I remember now. I wanted to pop over and see a neighbour of mine first and stop off and see the cattle later. It was slow going because, as you say, I was on the tractor.”
“Which neighbour and why?”
“Fred Pearce at Black Tor Farm, and I wanted to discuss livestock prices in readiness for market day next week.”
Just then the younger son appeared and explained that his brother had left to feed the cattle. King wasn’t surprised the surly son had left, but it was of no consequence.
“I wanted to update you on a crime we have been investigating, namely your barn fire. We have two lines of enquiry and are working hard on both. We will be interviewing a possible suspect, hopefully later today, and I’ll keep you informed of anything that develops.”
Mr Sutton senior said, “If you catch the bastard, I hope the insurance company go after him for the money they are going to pay me, and I want my fucking thousand quid excess back too.” Harris winced as she knew her boss wouldn’t like the use of the ‘f’ word: in all the time she had worked with him she had never heard him swear. As they turned to leave, the detectives knew that they would wait a long time for any hint of gratitude from Sutton, not that they were seeking it.
Harris was driving them back and as she started the car, King reached for a sherbet lemon. They reached the end of the drive and although the road was clear in both directions, the sergeant paused as she recognised the significance of her boss sucking his favourite sweet.
“You know sergeant, I’m not sure we’re getting the whole story, or the whole truth, from those three. I don’t think this is the last occasion we will be meeting with the Sutton family.”
TEN
It was past noon when King and Harris returned to the police station. Lacey was waiting impatiently for them in the interview room, with a police constable sitting motionless in the corner, ensuring that he didn’t leave. King collected two subsidised coffees from the machine and the detectives entered the room; the PC then left. Sergeant Harris was carrying Lacey’s iPad and put in on the table in front of her as she sat down next to the inspector: Lacey recognised it as his. As delegated by King, she began the interview. Sitting opposite Lacey, she pushed the button to start the recording machine, which was on one side of the table. With electronic bars ready to illuminate to the resonance of her voice, the sound indicators on the front of the device lit up as she spoke. After stating the date and time, she listed who was in attendance. This seemed to unnerve the usually calm estate agent.
“Mr Lacey, you are under caution at this interview.”
“What does that mean? I thought it was just a follow-on chat.”
“It’s a bit more than a chat. It means that you are being interviewed as it is suspected you have committed an offence.”
“Offence? What offence?”
“We’ll get to that. Now, when we spoke to you before over the disappearance of Mary Cranson, tell us again where you were on that Wednesday afternoon when she went missing.”
“I had been to a house in Princetown to measure-up a property, and then I travelled across the moor to Paddock Wood House close to Widecombe. It took me about forty minutes to get to the Princetown property and I spent just over an hour there before driving to Widecombe. So, I would have arrived at Paddock Wood House at about two. After I’d taken my measurements, and because the house was unoccupied, but furnished, I sat in an armchair and caught up with my emails.”
“So, you worked on your emails for about an hour?”
“Yes, that’s right. What’s the problem with that?”
“The problem, as you put it, Mr Lacey, is that we’ve had your iPad checked and there is no activity shown on it from the time you left the branch until you returned after 5 p.m.: can you explain why that should be?”
“Yes, that’s because what you took was my work iPad: I was using my iPhone to do my emails.”
“Why would you use your phone when you had your iPad with you? Surely it would have been easier to use that rather than your mobile?”
“I have separate profiles. My iPad profile is work related, while my iPhone is for my social mails: it’s my personal account.”
The inspector interrupted, and there was some irritation in his tone.
“Why didn’t you tell us that before? You knew why we took it. It seems to me, Mr Lacey, that you have two choices: either you can wait in a cell, while I get someone from our Cyber Crime Unit to inspect your phone and check out your story, or you can tell us what you were really doing around the time Miss Cranson disappeared. I’m thinking that t
he time you can’t currently account for, could have been used to abduct her. After all, you were fairly close by and you knew she was on the moor at that time.”
The interviewee sat expressionless for a few seconds, which seemed to him an eternity. King waited patiently and thought that if Lacey’s skull had been transparent, you could have seen his brain working frantically, as he decided what to say.
“Okay. I can assure you that I was at Paddock Wood House at the time I said I was, but I wasn’t working on my emails. Truth is, I was with someone, but I don’t want to say who it was as it is a private matter between me and her.”
“So, you lied to us. Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” King held his right hand out in front of him with his thumb and fore finger both extended and almost touching, “I am that close from charging you with wasting police time at best and, at worst, with the abduction of Mary Cranson. You’d better think carefully before you tell us any more lies, Mr Lacey, as another charge I could bring against you is perverting the course of justice.”
Harris was happy for her boss to assume control of the interview.
“The truth is I was with someone from our agency. When the circumstances are right, namely when either of us is measuring a house for sale that is unoccupied, we meet there and, you know, have some fun.”
“You haven’t told us who you met.”
“I’d rather not say as I’ll get into trouble and could lose my job.”
“You are already in trouble for lying to the police.”
Lacey was between a rock and a hard place. King abruptly stood up. “Okay, sergeant. Please take Mr Lacey to the cells so he can have a long hard think about what he wants to do.” His threat had the desired effect.
“I was meeting Mrs Burton. We arranged to meet at Paddock Wood House at three o’clock. I measured the rooms and noted the details and Barbara, I mean Mrs Burton, arrived just as I finished.”
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