‘But he did, Izzy,’ says Weld gently. ‘The transaction’s recorded in his bank account.’
Izzy frowns. ‘I don’t understand. I’m sure he would have told me.’
‘Like he told you about his phone?’
Izzy’s head drops. She grabs herself a tissue.
‘I just didn’t know him, did I? I’ve been such a fool. There were so many lies.’
‘What about your relationship with Aidan?’
‘My relationship? What are you asking?’
‘Whether there was anything between you and Aidan which made you more than friends.’
Izzy looks up slowly. A blush of anger is brightening her cheeks.
‘That’s outrageous.’
‘We have to ask, I’m afraid.’
‘The suggestion’s disgusting. Whatever he was, I loved my husband, I certainly never cheated on him, and Laura is my very good friend. So you can make a note that I’m stating categorically there’s never, ever been anything between me and Aidan Ridley. What kind of person do you think I am? Jesus.’
‘I don’t mean to insult you,’ says Weld. ‘But this is a murder investigation, and that means if we have to offend people’s sensibilities, that’s what we’ll do. We have to dig in the dark places. Most often, that’s where we find our answers.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Izzy. ‘I’m a bit of a wreck at the moment, and being in Sterndale isn’t helping. Every time I go out, I feel people watching me and whispering, and there’s still the odd reporter hiding in the bushes.’ She gives a small laugh. ‘That sounds so paranoid.’
‘Not to me,’ says Weld.
‘Mum thinks we should get away, take Flora to the seaside, the whole walks on the beach, fresh air and sandcastles thing. She’s booked us a cottage for a few days. Is that OK?’
‘I think it sounds like a great idea. Take some time for yourself, gather your thoughts, process what’s happened. Eat properly and recharge your batteries. You’re going to need to be resilient as the investigation moves along. We’ll try not to disturb you, but if there’s anything you really need to know, don’t worry, we’ll be in touch.’
‘Can I ask you a question before you go?’
‘Ask away.’
‘You mentioned Aidan and this money – he’s not a suspect, is he?’
‘If you don’t mind,’ says Weld, ‘I’d rather not comment on that until more enquiries have been made.’
‘There’s another public reputation potentially in tatters,’ says Weld, as they get into the car. ‘I feel really sorry for her. But why the hell didn’t she tell us about this phone from the start?’
‘Desperate to keep the lid on it,’ says Gooch. ‘For the reason you just said, that his reputation is about to get shredded. But doesn’t it really open up our investigation? What if one of these women was at the wedding? Tristan might have used it to arrange a rendezvous. But what I don’t get is why he was wanting to leave his wife. She’s gorgeous, the house is fabulous. She has my perfect life.’
‘Begs the question, doesn’t it, how happy the marriage was. And if she knew he was going to dump her, might that not be a motive for her to get mad at him? I mean really mad?’
‘Easily. At least I know that’s how I’d feel.’
‘You know what else?’ says Weld, starting the engine. ‘If he had inside info from the nanny, that could explain how Murray Roe knew the weapon was a champagne bottle.’
‘So you don’t think it was him who actually assaulted Tristan?’
‘I don’t think we can rule that out yet, but what she’s just told us suggests another possible reason for him being front and centre in all this, namely his trying to sell an exclusive to the media. I think we need to talk to him again, ask him if he wants to change his statement.’
‘This is exciting.’
‘It’s not exciting, Amber, it’s possible new evidence in a murder enquiry. And it’s one thing telling your mum about the kitchen gadgets, but don’t for God’s sake be telling her about the phone. This is confidential information, and we don’t need any leaks tipping anyone off.’
‘As if I would,’ says Gooch. ‘But I am going to tell her about the coffee machine. Fancy stopping somewhere for a sandwich on the way back?’
Forty-five
Weld finds Muir in the canteen, finishing a mug of tea and a chocolate muffin. She gets herself a coffee and joins him at his table.
‘Don’t tell Amy,’ he says, wiping cake crumbs from his fingers. ‘We’re supposed to be doing this low-carb diet together. Thing is, I’ve lost pounds and she’s lost next to nothing. I’m trying to put a bit back on so she doesn’t get disheartened.’
‘Best excuse for breaking a diet I ever heard,’ says Weld. ‘Why do you need to diet, anyway? If you get any thinner, we won’t see you when you turn sideways.’
‘Moral support. I know it’s harder for women. How did you get on with Mrs Savage?’
‘Very interesting.’ Weld tries her coffee. ‘This stuff never improves, does it? If it didn’t look so nerdy I’d bring a flask. Anyway, are you ready for this? Isobel Savage has been withholding possible evidence, in the form of a phone Tristan was using apparently to call a number of women.’
Muir raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you serious? Do you mean a burner phone?’
‘Essentially. She found it soon after he was taken to hospital. Meanwhile she’s been sitting on it out of fear – she says – of the media getting hold of the story and trashing Tristan’s carefully curated public image, which she’s understandably very keen to protect for the daughter’s sake.’
‘Wow.’
‘There’s more. By doing her own detective work, she’s also discovered Tristan was in the process of building a house with one of the women who features on the new phone. Looks like he was thinking of leaving her.’
‘And she’s kept all this quiet until now?’
‘I suppose now he’s gone, she knows there’s no way of keeping his reputation intact indefinitely. Don’t they say you can’t libel the dead? No more hiding behind threats of injunctions or damages.’
‘I need to think for a moment,’ says Muir. ‘More tea.’
He goes to join the short queue at the service counter. Weld sips her coffee, wishing she’d had water instead.
When Muir returns, he’s brought a slice of fruit cake to go with his drink.
‘Brain food,’ he says, as he sits down. ‘This could be a real game changer. Doesn’t it give Isobel an excellent motive to assault Tristan herself?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ says Weld. ‘It might and it might not. If it’s true she didn’t find the phone until after he was hospitalised, the motive goes away, and we can check that by looking at the phone’s recent usage. But she’s by no means stupid. If she thought the phone was going to incriminate her in any way, why even tell us about it? Wouldn’t she just quietly dispose of it, drop it down a drain? We’d never be any the wiser.’
‘Good point,’ says Muir, picking up his cake.
‘Anyway, it’s in our hands now and loaded with a list of contacts which should be straightforward enough to trace, given we can start the easy way and ring them. Especially someone called Tina. She’s the one Tristan’s building a house with.’
‘Maybe Tina’s got a jealous partner who didn’t care for Tristan’s interest.’
‘Maybe she has.’
‘Well, it’s good to have a new avenue to explore, but we’d be in a much better place if we’d known about it from the beginning.’
‘And speaking of avenues, I don’t think we’re in any way done yet with Murray Roe or Aidan Ridley.’
‘Tell me more,’ says Muir.
‘Izzy’s also found out – via CCTV we didn’t know she had – that there was a visitor to the house on the night of the wedding. None other than Murr
ay Roe.’
‘You’re kidding. Well, he didn’t mention that when Golding and I spoke to him. I knew we weren’t getting the full story there. What was he doing?’
‘By her account, recruiting the nanny, Bridget Feahny, into a scheme to sell some kind of Tristan exclusive to the press.’
‘What kind of exclusive?’
‘Good question. He might just have been casting a net to see what swam in. Or he might have had knowledge or expectation that something big was going to break around the family.’
‘What does the nanny say?’
‘We haven’t asked her, not yet, anyway. Unsurprisingly, she’s been let go.’
‘So you’re right about Roe. He’s still on our list. What about Aidan Ridley?’
‘Izzy Savage confirmed she had no idea about Tristan’s loan to him, and she didn’t take the news too well. More proof, as she said, that Tristan’s been less than honest – to put it mildly – throughout their marriage. When I asked about her personal relationship with Ridley, she became very defensive, and I can’t help wondering if she was protesting too much. On the way back here, I remembered something Bridget Feahny said to me when we interviewed her. She talked about Tristan being irresistible to women, but she said Izzy has the same effect on men.’
‘I could see that,’ says Muir, with a smile.
‘Well, at the funeral wake, Gooch and I saw Izzy and Aidan Ridley looking very cosy together. Which makes me wonder whether there’s something going on there we should know about.’
‘A large sum of money and a possible interest in the dead man’s wife,’ muses Muir.
‘Not forgetting the hotel manager’s identification of him behaving oddly in the lobby that evening. I know that’s not hard evidence, but it could be evidence of an agitated state of mind.’
‘So Aidan Ridley definitely has the makings of a person of interest. Where do you reckon we should go next?’
‘I think we start with the phone, see who we’re dealing with there.’
Muir nods. ‘I agree. We need to understand what’s been going on, so make that your number one priority. For the time being we’ll put Murray Roe and Aidan Ridley on the back burner, but let’s be sure we don’t leave them there too long.’
Forty-six
Gooch is disappointed to find the house on the Oxford outskirts is several notches downmarket from Foxcote Lodge. In a long street of nondescript sixties semis, at number 85 someone is at least making an effort, with pots of flowering plants in the tiny front garden, and the place overall looking tidy and clean. There’s no car in the driveway, only a moped tucked in close to the house, a heavy lock on the front wheel to deter thieves.
Weld turns off the engine.
‘This doesn’t look like somewhere Tristan Hart would stash his mistress,’ says Gooch, and Weld agrees.
When the doorbell sounds, the seventies reggae playing inside is turned down. The woman who opens the door is in her late fifties, overweight and dressed in cut-off denims and a bright pink T-shirt. Her hair is dyed vibrant crimson, and on her right arm is a tattoo of a writhing red dragon. She’s a distinctive-looking woman, and Weld has seen her before.
‘Martina Stokes? DS Weld, DC Gooch from West Mercia Police. We spoke on the phone.’
‘Yes, we did. Come in.’ Martina’s accent is more Basildon than Oxford, but her welcome seems warm.
‘You were at Tristan’s funeral,’ says Weld, as they step into the hallway.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it,’ says Martina. ‘Sobbed my eyes out, I did. He was one in a million, he was, a diamond, an absolute prince. I still can’t believe he’s gone. Takes a while for it to sink in, don’t it? Do you want a cuppa?’
‘Yes, please,’ says Weld. ‘We’re looking forward to hearing how you know Tristan.’
‘Long story,’ says Martina, ‘and to be honest, he’s left me in a bit of a hole. Go through, make yourselves comfortable. If the cat’s on the sofa, shove her off. Don’t let that little madam be taking any liberties.’
While Weld’s driving them back to Burnt Common, she asks Gooch to call Izzy Savage and arrange for them to meet, but Izzy’s phone goes straight to voicemail.
‘She’ll be on a beach somewhere,’ says Weld. ‘Leave her a message, tell her we need to talk.’
At Weld’s request, Gooch then puts in a call to Muir.
‘It’s Amber, Sir, on behalf of DS Weld,’ she says, when he answers. ‘She’d like to respectfully suggest it’s time we started talking to Aidan Ridley.’
‘Thanks for coming in, Aidan. I appreciate this may be difficult for you.’
From across the table, Aidan eyes Muir and Golding. He looks relaxed and he’s declined a legal representative, which Muir knows is supposed to signal his innocence, but those tactics don’t work on Muir. In Aidan’s position, he’d have a lawyer here, no question about it.
‘No worries,’ says Aidan. ‘You’ve got your job to do. I just want to get this straightened out, so you can focus resources in the right direction.’
The implication that they’re getting it wrong nettles Muir. It’s a cocky attitude from an ex-beat officer, but if Ridley’s not their man, then he’s quite right – this will be a waste of valuable time.
Better get on with it.
‘You’ll know why we want to talk to you today,’ Muir begins. Beside him, Golding’s taking his usual careful notes, even though the interview’s being video-recorded. Golding always maintains that when you need to refer back to what’s been said, it’s easier to find what you’re looking for in a few pages of handwriting than in hours of digital media. ‘This is in relation to a sum of money paid to you by Tristan Savage, also known as Tristan Hart. Do you want to tell us how that came about?’
‘Like I told DS Golding before,’ says Aidan, nodding in Golding’s direction, ‘it was Tristan’s idea.’
‘Why did he suggest giving you money?’
‘He wasn’t giving it. It was a loan.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘I needed more investment for the business. I was complaining that the bank was dragging its feet on a decision, and he said, “Screw them, I’ll lend it to you.”’
‘And you didn’t question whether such an arrangement would be wise?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Money and friendship aren’t always a good mix.’
‘Fair comment. But I knew he could afford it. Most of my mates have mortgages to pay. I wouldn’t be borrowing off one of them.’
‘How did you know he could afford it?’
Aidan shrugs. ‘He said he could easily spare it, and I took him at his word. Anyway, you’ve only to see their house to know they weren’t hurting for money.’
‘Still, it was a sizeable sum.’
‘Maybe to a lowly policeman. Not so much to him.’
‘And how long had you known Tristan?’
Aidan considers. ‘A couple of years. Laura – my wife – met Izzy soon after they moved to Sterndale, and they really hit it off. I think Izzy appreciates having a friend who’s down-to-earth and normal. She invited us both over for drinks, and Tris and I got along well too. I liked him. He had an energy about him. There was never a dull moment when he was around.’
‘When you say you went for drinks, was Tristan a heavy drinker?’
Aidan smiles, shaking his head. ‘Never. The job kept him on the straight and narrow. He drank a lot of those daft-expensive posh juices and scented waters, but never alcohol. He said it was dehydrating for the skin, and that HD showed every wrinkle. You might say he was vain, but actually I think he was terrified he’d get picked on in the press, you know, end up in one of those “Look how shit Tristan Hart looks on a Sunday morning” photos in the Daily Mail.’
Muir pauses before his next question, putting his thoughts in order.
‘S
o, going back to this loan. Despite the fact it was supposedly all above board, you didn’t tell your wife anything about it, and Tristan didn’t tell his wife, either. You even went to the lengths of using a bank where you’ve never been a customer before. Can you explain why that was?’
‘Explain again for the recording, you mean? Because I’ve already said this.’ Aidan nods again towards Golding. ‘Tris insisted it be a condition of the loan that they should be kept out of it, for Izzy’s sake. He didn’t want to upset the balance of her friendship with my wife, and to be fair, I could see where he was coming from. They were already very generous to us, paying for meals, entertaining at home in a way we could never match. I saw no need to make Laura feel any more beholden to them than she already did.’
‘Was there interest to be paid on this loan?’
‘That was never discussed.’
‘So what did you think was in it for Tristan?’
Aidan frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ says Muir, ‘did you take this large, interest-free loan to be a simple act of generosity? The kind act of one friend to another?’
‘Yes. Why shouldn’t I?’
‘You never asked yourself why he might want to park that money – without making any interest on it, as you say, and without his wife’s knowledge – in a place where no one was likely to find it?’
‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at.’
But Aidan’s face suggests light is beginning to dawn.
‘Do you expect us to believe that, Aidan?’ says Muir. ‘As an ex-copper, you’re surely more aware than most of the kind of tricks people pull. Tax dodging, money laundering. Which of those do you think this was?’
‘Neither. He did it as a favour.’
‘And was that purely as a favour to you, or were there benefits for himself?’
‘I never thought about that.’
‘Well, you’d better think about it now. Aiding and abetting in tax evasion is a criminal offence.’
Forty-seven
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