Текст книги "Fear of Drowning"

Автор книги: Peter Turnbull

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‘Little, little…little.’

‘What?’

‘Specks…little…little…little…but everywhere.’ Partridge waved his arms about as if conducting an orchestra. Tiny…tiny…specks.’

‘Of?’

‘Oh, blood. Oh yes…lots of them. The bleach has clearly cleaned up most of the mess, but blood has a habit of getting into the smallest of cracks, the most minute hole will be a home for a spot of blood. Found a lot under the carpet.’

‘A lot?’

‘Microscopically speaking. Under the edge of the carpet. A little in the cracks between the skirting board and the floor. There are two main areas of blood. Here in the hallway where we stand, at the entrance to the main bedroom. A lot of blood…microscopically speaking, we found around here…in all directions…the other main area is in the living room, just through here.’ Partridge pushed between Yellich and Hennessey, a small figure between two towering police officers, and stood in the centre of the living room. ‘Goes up as well as down,’ he beamed.

‘What does?’

‘Blood. See.’ He pointed to the ceiling. The person who cleaned this area of the home looked down, and all around, but didn’t look up. There.’

‘I don’t see anything.’ Hennessey looked at the ceiling.

‘Well, there isn’t anything to see.’

‘Dr Partridge…’ Hennessey growled.

‘With the naked eye.’

‘But with the aid of a lens held at close quarters, small specks of blood have been located.’ He smiled an aren’t-I clever, smile. Taken samples, of course, sent them off to the forensic science laboratory at Wetherby. Of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Went off by courier just before you arrived, boss,’ Yellich explained. ‘We’ve also got a latent.’

Hennessey smiled.

‘It could belong to one the Williamses, but it’s worth checking. Plenty of evidence that the person or persons who ransacked the house wore gloves, but there’s a very recent looking latent in the bathroom.’

‘Very recent,’ Partridge said. ‘Noticeably more recent than any other latent and also different. The latent in question is a “loop”, being one of the four classifications of fingerprints: “loops”, “whirls”, “arches” and “tented arches”.’

‘I know that.’

‘Well, all the other prints in the house are “whirls”, as if the Williamses, as a family, all had “whirls” as their fingerprint type, but the recent latent was made by someone with prints of the “loop” category. I pointed it out to your Scene of Crime Officer, he’s lifting it now.’

‘It’s a promising point, boss,’ Yellich said defensively of Dr partridge. ‘We have a house full of fingerprints of the “whirl” type, a lot of prints made with gloved hands, and then one, just one, “loop” print in the bathroom.’

‘If it was our man, who’d want to search a bathroom? What could be hidden in a bathroom?’

‘Either he was being thorough, or he didn’t search it. He took advantage of the facilities while he was in the house. It’s been known before, burglars having loose bowels during a burglary, induced by the fear and tension of the act.’

‘I’m aware of that, sometimes they even use the toilet.’

‘I’ve known felons do more stupid things than take their gloves off for a second or two.’

‘Yes…’ Hennessey sighed. ‘Indeed. So what was being searched for?’

‘These.’ Yellich held up a cellophane sachet containing photographs.

‘I thought you looked pleased with yourself, Yellich.’

‘Found them in the garden shed, sir.’

Hennessey took the photographs out of the sachet and held them carefully at the edges, making sure he prevented his own fingerprints getting on the surface or the reverse of the prints. ‘Had a pleasant time together, didn’t they?’

‘Aye…’ Yellich said. ‘I recognize the bungalow in some of the photos, but the other location…it’s like a studio…hardly any furniture…just a mattress on the floor.’

‘It’s the house Richardson built for Max Williams—I’ll tell you the story. But it’s clear from this that Mrs Williams and Tim Sheringham used it as a love nest.’

‘Shall we pick Sheringham up, boss?’

‘Not yet. Let’s process that latent, if he’s got track and if the latent is his, then we’ll fondle his collar. Time for cautious treading, Yellich.’

‘Anything you say, boss. How did you get on with Richardson?’

‘Well, he’s got a motive. Williams looks like he’s destroyed his business.’

‘Motive enough. I’ve known people murder for less.’

‘So have I. He didn’t say anything to implicate himself, but he didn’t say anything to enable us to strike him off the list of suspects. He’s still in the frame, as is Mr Sheringham. But mainly Sheringham.’

‘Does he have an alibi for the time window?’

‘Not for Sunday or the Monday or Tuesday evenings. His wife, very conveniently, was in Ireland. She arrived back this morning.’

‘How convenient.’

‘Isn’t it? Give me an alibi merchant every time. If we can break the alibi we’ve won. No alibi means the heavy burden of proof rests on our shoulders. But he’s a volatile man and he’s got a lovely motive.’

‘Love that word,’ said Partridge. ‘Lovely. It’s a lovely word.’

Hennessey and Yellich glanced at each other. They had forgotten Partridge’s presence.

That evening at home, Yellich was kneeling near an alcove in his house putting up shelves, as had long been requested by his wife, when his son approached him.

‘Hiya, Jeremy,’ Yellich smiled.

Jeremy beamed at his father.

Yellich held up a nail. ‘Nail,’ he said. ‘Nail.’

‘Nail,’ repeated Jeremy. Yellich held up a hammer. ‘Hammer.’

‘Hammer.’

‘Good boy.’

Jeremy Yellich walked away, looking pleased with himself.

A few moments later he returned to where his father was working and picked up the hammer and said, ‘Hammer.’

‘Good lad.’ Yellich put his arm round his son and kissed his forehead. ‘Good, good boy.’

The younger man toyed with Oscar’s ears as the dog allowed his head to rest on the man’s lap. Hennessey put the coffee pot, and tray of milk and sugar and cups, down on the kitchen table.

‘Names?’ said the younger man, looking over the list of names that Hennessey had written.

‘Something I thought I’d do out of interest. You see, I went through school from the age of eleven to sixteen with the same form, some left, one or two came, but to all intents and purposes, the thirty-two that finished were the same thirty-two that started. Each morning of every school day the register was taken, each morning the same thirty-two surnames were read out. I thought I’d try and remember them. As you see, I’ve recalled all but five or six.’

;You’re getting old, Dad. You’re looking back.’

‘No, I’m not, I’m convincing myself my memory is still intact. He poured the coffee. So you’re in Leeds tomorrow?’

‘Yes, I’m going to the case you’ll have read about, bloke set fire to his council house to force the council to give him another tenancy. Killed his two infant children in the process.’

‘Yes, I read it.’

‘The bloke says he’s a victim of local hostility, and vigilantes tried to burn him out. The Crown case against him is overwhelming, but he belongs to that mind-set which, from childhood, believes that if you deny something you’ll get away with it. It’s far better to play with a straight bat and make a clean breast of things. As it is, he’ll get two life sentences. He’s told his solicitor to enter a NG plea, so his solicitor has instructed me and I dutifully take instructions and will have to challenge the Crown’s case, which is not challengeable. But that’s how our criminal justice system works.’

Hennessey sat down. ‘What would happen if a felon were to say to a barrister, “Look I did it, but they can’t prove it, so I want to plead not guilty.”’

‘Show him the door. If you went along with that you’d be misleading the court, wilfully so. You’d be finished as a silk.’

‘I thought that. It’s a pleasant evening, shall we have coffee on the lawn?’

Sitting on the wooden garden furniture chairs, the younger man said, ‘You should have got married again, Dad.’

‘Nothing could replace…’ Hennessey smiled. ‘I mean, no one could replace Jennifer.’

‘But it couldn’t have been easy for you, bringing me up alone.’

‘It wasn’t, and I loved every minute of it. And I had help; Mrs Last used to help a lot, I couldn’t have done it without her.’

‘I remember her. I was quite saddened by her death.’

‘Well, you and she bonded with each other. It would have been quite a loss for you. But that’s it, I’m not a needy person. I can live without a partner more easily than I can live with the wrong partner. And like I said…if I couldn’t have Jennifer…we were very much in love, you know, your mother and I.’

‘I know you were, Dad.’

‘She planned the garden, you know.’

‘You never told me that.’

‘She did. When we moved into this house, the entire garden, the back garden, was just a greensward, a swathe of grass, could play a game of cricket on it. That’s why I won’t leave this house, not just because her ashes are scattered here, but because this garden is her design.’

‘Well…’ The young man watched a swallow loop and swoop.

‘She was heavily pregnant, couldn’t do anything except sit and read, and one day at the kitchen table she designed the garden. Reduced the lawn to half its original size, planting a privet from left to right with a gateway set in it, a potting shed and an orchard beyond the privet, and a waste area with a pond in the very bottom. The first apple trees were planted to coincide with your arrival, at least Jenn saw that. She used to walk with you amongst the saplings. Took me fully five years to complete it to her design.’

‘The trees are as old as me then? Thirty years.’

‘The oldest ones are, apple tree saplings are quite expensive and so we…I had to plant the orchard over time.’

‘Still, you ought to have found someone.’

‘Oh, I have.’ Hennessey smiled at his son. He relished his company.

‘Well, all the secrets are being exposed this evening. This is news.’

‘It’s a recent development. Still new.’

‘Tell me about her.’

‘She’s a professional woman, divorced, three children who are old enough to know that their mum needs a partner and are not possessive of her. They’ve welcomed me into their family-I help out with the homework, and the like. Love it. She has three children, a high-powered, demanding job, a horse and two rabbits, so we’ve worked out that I come eighth on her list of priorities.’

Charles Hennessey smiled. ‘You haven’t lost your dry sense of humour, Dad. I think that has carried you through.’

‘Probably has.’ Hennessey glanced up at the crimson sky.

‘Magnificent sunset.’

‘Isn’t it.’

‘Tell me about Mum.’

‘What can I say…a lovely, lovely woman…all she could do was give of herself, nurture things, husband, son, a garden, house plants…she just gave and gave and gave, and all she seemed to want in return was to see that the things she gave to thrived. That was all the reward she wanted.’

Thursday morning

…in which a suspect is quizzed and a double life is exposed.

The twin spools in the cassette tape recorder spun slowly, silently. The red light glowed.

The date is Thursday, the eleventh of June, the time is ten-fifteen and the place is Micklegate Bar Police Station in the City of York. I am Chief Inspector Hennessey. I am going to ask the other people in the room to identify themselves.’

‘Detective Sergeant Yellich.’

‘Nathan Samual of Samual, Samual & Kileen, solicitors.’

‘Tim Sheringham.’ Said in a resentful, surly manner.

‘Mr Sheringham, you have been arrested in connection with the murder of Mr and Mrs Williams.’

‘So I understand.’

‘Did you murder Mr and Mrs Williams?’

‘No.’

Hennessey looked at Sheringham, such sudden long shots had paid off before. ‘Thought you’d say that.’

‘Did you know Mr and Mrs Williams?’

‘No.’ Sheringham smiled. ‘I didn’t know them.’ He emphasized the word ‘them’.

‘Did you know Mr Williams?’

‘No.’

‘Did you know Mrs Williams?’

‘Yes. Very well indeed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean sexually. I knew her sexually. We had an affair. She enrolled at the gym. Things went from there.’

‘I see. How long did you know Mrs Williams?’

‘About two years, maybe longer. I didn’t keep a diary.’

‘When did the relationship finish?’

‘Last week.’

‘Why did it finish?’

‘Because my wife was getting suspicious.’

‘How did Mrs Williams react?’

‘As you’d expect.’

‘Mr Sheringham, I’ve been a police officer for many years, pretty well all my working life, and I have learned not to expect anything. So, how did she react?’

‘Badly. She threw a tantrum. Screaming about the place.’

‘The place?’

‘Her little house.’

‘The house or the bungalow?’

A pause. Then Tim Sheringham said, ‘The house.’

‘Did she threaten to tell your wife?’

‘Probably. She was angry. I didn’t really listen. She was angry because she’d spent a lot of money on me. I was her “boy”. She bought me gifts and meals in upmarket restaurants. I showed her a good time. I gave her a good time. She gave me money and things.’

‘She gave you money?’

‘Yes. She bought my body. Why not? Men do it all the time. And anyway, wouldn’t you want my body if you were a fifty-something woman with a drunkard for a husband?’

Hennessey didn’t reply.

Sheringham smirked. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t really understand that, not being married and all, I mean, would you, Chief Inspector? You know the first time we “did it”, it was at the bungalow. He came home earlier than expected, in a taxi, entered the house and curled up on the sofa, drunk as a lord. We just carried on and then went for a meal. He wasn’t aware of anything going on at all. She told me that had been the first time she’d done “it” for many years, she said she had a lot of catching up to do.’

‘And you helped her catch up?’

‘Well…yes. Is there anything wrong with that? Look, I am not a Christian but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy. She had money, she could afford it.’

Hennessey said nothing, but the word ‘credit’ crept into his mind. ‘You didn’t always spend time with her at the bungalow?’

‘No. We met at a house her husband had had built. They had money. I told you. We started to use the house as soon as it was complete because she thought her neighbours were getting suspicious.’

‘And she didn’t take it too kindly when you broke it off?’

‘Like I said, very unkindly. I mean, I was her possession, she’d take me to restaurants not just to buy me a meal, but to show me off. She used to enjoy the envious looks she’d get from other women.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘We went away once…a weekend…a hotel near the coast. Not actually on the coast itself, that was too near bed and breakfast land for her…but just inland, a mile or two inland from Scarborough. She paid.’

‘She would by the sound of it.’

‘Well, she’d have to, the gym is paying its way but only just and anyway, my wife and I have a joint account, I couldn’t hide spending money on Amanda. I’m in trouble as it is. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this.’

‘How did you explain the weekend away to your wife?’

‘Said it was a business trip. Anyway, we were not married then. I enjoyed it, we were both something on the side for each other, that was part of the fun…but she was getting too indiscreet…showing me off too much…I felt it was getting dangerous…coming to the gym very frequently. Daily almost, so I blew her out.’

‘Then what did you do?’

‘Got on with living my life. Running the gym.’

‘So why did you go back to the bungalow after she and her husband had been murdered?’

Sheringham glanced at Nathan Samual, who said, ‘Can you explain that question, Chief Inspector?’

‘I’d be happy to. Your affair, Mr and Mrs Williams were murdered, their home was ransacked. We know that the house was sanitized after the murder, but we got a fingerprint from the bathroom.’ Sheringham caught his breath.

‘Remembering something, Mr Sheringham?’

‘I’m not saying anything.’

‘You see,’ Hennessey continued. ‘You see, not only was the house sanitized after the murder, it was kept in a fastidiously clean manner. Cleaned daily, I should think, especially the bathroom. And your client freely admits that latterly he was rendezvousing with Mrs Williams at a newly built house, not at the bungalow, so his fingerprints could not be in the bungalow by lawful means.’

‘Accepted,’ Nathan Samual said. He was a small, thin-faced man, dwarfed, it seemed to Hennessey, by the powerfully built Tim Sheringham whose T-shirt stretched over a muscular chest and revealed muscular arms.

‘The print in the bathroom, that belonged to Mr Sheringham. It puts you in the house after the murder of the woman with whom you had just broken off your relationship.’

‘No comment.’

‘Why did you ransack the house?’

‘No comment.’

‘What were you searching for?’

‘No comment.’

‘You didn’t take anything. Stopped burglarizing homes, have you?’

‘No comment.’

‘So what were you looking for?’

‘No comment.’

Hennessey opened the file which lay on the table in front of him and took out a photograph and placed it on the table in front of Sheringham. Sheringham’s jaw dropped, his eyes widened.

‘There are quite a few like that. Clearly taken over quite a long time period, at the bungalow, at the house…some out of doors. Only you and Amanda Williams…never a third person, so the photographs were taken with a time-delayed shutter.’

‘Yes…they were. She insisted. I knew it was a bad idea. She sent them away to be developed, there’s a company in London that will print anything. Pretty well, they draw the line at children.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

‘Is this what you were looking for? This and the others? We found them in the garden shed, by the way.’

Sheringham gasped.

‘They were not in the house at all. So what was it? Blackmail?’

Sheringham nodded.

‘Could you speak for the benefit of the tape?’

‘Yes.’

‘How much did she want in return for the photographs?’

‘Nothing. She didn’t need money.’

‘What then?’

‘She wanted me to agree to continue our affair, just carrying on as we had been doing, every Wednesday. You can understand it. How could a woman like that replace a man like me? She was going to send them to my wife. Look, I’m thirsty…how about…’

Hennessey reached for the off button and said, ‘The time is eleven-oh-five a.m. The interview is being suspended for refreshments to be taken.’ He switched off the tape recorder.

Sheringham and Nathan Samual remained in the interview room, sipping coffee out of white plastic beakers. Hennessey and Yellich stood in the corridor.

‘What do you think, boss?’ Yellich held his beaker of coffee in both hands.

‘He’s definitely in the frame for it, very definitely. He had something to fear from Mrs Williams. He’s arrogant enough to murder, he’s strong enough to dig the grave…he battered her over the head and he felled Mr Williams because he was there. He’s got more of a motivation than Richardson because with Richardson things couldn’t get worse. With Sheringham things could get an awful lot worse…Richardson isn’t out of the frame but if you ask me, Sheringham’s a stronger candidate.

‘Fear, you see, Yellich, fear feeds the imagination, that leads to desperation and desperate men do desperate things. I can see him doing it. He’s full of himself, has a lot to lose, pops ‘em both off as the only safe thing to do. Sanitizes the house, then collects the bodies a day or two later, drives them out to a field and buries them. Then he returns looking for the photographs of himself and her in happier times and, during the search, leaves a careless but very convenient fingerprint in the bathroom.’

Then Yellich said quietly, ‘Do you think they might be in it together, boss?’

Hennessey’s eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me more, Yellich.’

‘Well, I once came across an Arabic proverb: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’

‘Go on.’ Hennessey sipped his coffee.

‘They’re both members of the business community in York. If they’re known to each other, they both have motivation to murder the Williamses…they’re both strong enough to dig the grave, but sharing the job would make it a cakewalk. Together, they’d make light of it. It’s also a big crime scene to sanitize, two guys would be better employed at it than one. Just thinking aloud, boss.’

Hennessey beamed at him. ‘Yellich, on occasions you please me greatly.’

‘I do, boss?’

‘Yes, Yellich. You do. Two heads are always better than one. Maybe for Richardson and Sheringham, as well as for you and me. I’ll continue here.’

‘Yes, boss.’

‘You go and have a chat with Mrs Sheringham at the gym. Tease out what you can, but be discreet.’

‘Yes, boss.’

‘York is a small city; you’re right, they may very well be known to each other, a link between them will be interesting. Very interesting indeed.’

Hennessey dropped his plastic mug into the waste bin beside the hot beverage vending machine and returned to the interview room. He switched the recording machine on as he sat down, the spools turned, the red light glowed. The interview recommences at eleven-twenty a.m. in the absence of Detective Sergeant Yellich.

‘I am Chief Inspector Hennessey. I am now going to ask the other people in the room to identify themselves.’

‘Nathan Samual.’

‘You know who I am,’ Sheringham growled.

‘Just state your name for the tape, please.’

‘Tim Sheringham. Happy now, old man?’

‘Thank you. So, Mr Sheringham, you don’t deny that Mrs Williams was a source of trouble for you?’

‘I don’t deny it.’

‘So you have benefited from her death?’

‘I’ve benefited from those photographs not being sent to my wife.’

‘But she did threaten to speak to your wife.’

‘No comment.’

‘It’s not unreasonable of me to assume that she did make such a threat.’

‘Assume what you like.’

‘So it’s not therefore unreasonable of me to assume that you have benefited from her death. She can’t talk to your wife from beyond the grave.’

‘She can’t.’

‘So a weight is off your mind?’

‘Yes…yes…if you like. But not fully, you know it’s possible that Vanessa will find out…your past has a way of catching up with you.’

‘As you well know.’ Hennessey took a sheet of paper from the file. ‘Your previous convictions.’

‘A lot of them are spent.’

‘A lot are…but there’s quite a pattern of violence, isn’t there? And burglary. Aggravated burglary. And you are, are you not, just the sort of person who’d batter the life out of someone and then ransack their house?’

‘I object to that question.’ Nathan Samual spoke softly, yet with no small measure of authority.

‘I’ve calmed down,’ Sheringham said coldly. The gym’s seen to that. And marriage. My last spell inside I spent as much time as I could pushing weights, working on my body culture. A guy in there said I could earn big money if I could open a gym. I’m not making as much as he reckoned I would, but enough. I’m making more straight pennies than I ever made bent pennies.’

‘I’m gratified to hear it…but the potential’s there. Now, tell me about this offence, which is not spent. The conviction a few years ago for the misuse of a controlled substance.’

‘A few ounces of cannabis, for my own consumption, I hasten to add. I wasn’t selling it.’

‘Still known to Mr McCarty though.’

‘Of the Drug Squad?’

‘The one and the same.’

‘I’ve had the pleasure once or twice.’

‘But nothing current?’

‘Of course.’

‘Of course.’ Hennessey smiled. ‘But let’s return to your potential.’

‘Potential?’

‘For violence…that’s been your history. You have not hesitated to attack someone if they annoyed you.’

‘I’ve calmed down.’

‘To batter someone to death because they threatened to ruin you?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘So you did!’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘“Wouldn’t you” implies you did.’

‘It implies nothing,’ Nathan Samual said solemnly.

‘Even so,’ Hennessey pressed forward, ‘we have assault, grievous bodily harm, malicious damage…not the sort of person you’d want to meet in one of the snickelways on a dark night, are you?’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘Or on a dance-hall floor.’

‘I don’t dance.’

‘Or inside your home.’

‘I didn’t kill them.’

‘Where were you on Sunday afternoon?’

‘I went for a run by the river.’

‘Anybody see you?’

‘Plenty.’

‘Anybody that recognized you, that could offer an alibi? What about your wife?’

‘At the gym. Wednesdays and Sundays are ladies’ days, both are long days for her.’

‘Other days it’s mixed?’

‘Yes. The customers like it that way. A lot of relationships have started in the gym.’

‘I can imagine. Yourself and Amanda Williams being an example of same.’

‘You should come down, free session, I’ll take you round the circuit, maybe you’ll want to enrol. You’ll be the oldest there, but you never know your luck, some women go for the older man, they want a father figure.’

‘As some men go for the older woman, eh, Mr Sheringham?’

‘Only if they have dosh.’ Smiling, provoking, game playing.

‘What about it, fancy a trip round the circuit?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Well, don’t say I didn’t make the offer. It’s no good at the end of your life saying, “I wonder what would have happened if…”’

‘Full of wisdom for one so young, aren’t you?’

‘I was born old, like Merlin the Magician. I get younger by the day.’

‘Where were you on Monday and Tuesday night?’

‘At home.’

‘Alone?’

‘With my wife.’

‘She’ll vouch for that?’

‘She may.’

‘May?’

‘She’s a heavy sleeper. She’ll sleep through an earthquake. Me, I suffer from insomnia from time to time. Not every night, but some nights. There’s been times when I’ve been unable to sleep, I’ve got up, gone out for a six-mile run, come back, showered, got back into bed, grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep and we’ve woken up together and she hasn’t realized I’ve been away.’

‘So you may not have an alibi for Monday and Tuesday night either?’

‘No. But I don’t need one. I didn’t kill anybody, see?’

‘No. Actually, I don’t see.

‘Can you drive a car?’

‘I have the ability, but no licence.’

‘Disqualified, part of the malicious damage incident, it says here.’

‘Guy cut me up at the lights. So I sorted his car. Thought I’d be less likely to get a prison sentence if I only damaged his metal, rather than him.’

‘Seemed to work. Heavy fine but you avoided the slammer. You have access to your car?’

‘Yes.’

‘So it’s not impossible for you to have gone to the Williamses’ bungalow to silence Amanda Williams who was threatening to expose your affair and silence her in the best way you could think of, and then to silence Max Williams because he was unfortunate enough to be there. And it’s not impossible for you to have slipped out of your house on Monday night to sanitize the crime scene, because there’d have been blood everywhere, and it’s not impossible to have slipped out of the house on Tuesday to bury the bodies.’

‘No.’ Sheringham smiled. ‘It’s not impossible but you’ll never prove it.’

‘Why, did you cover your tracks well enough?’

‘Because I didn’t do it.’

‘Double murder. Rotten thing to have on your conscience.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Did you have eye contact just before you killed them?’

‘Don’t answer that.’ Nathan Samual turned to Sheringham.

Then to Hennessey he said, ‘That’s a leading question, Chief Inspector.’

‘Which one was first, Sheringham?’

‘Really, Chief Inspector, I protest at this line of questioning.’

Samual turned to Hennessey and, somewhat imperiously, Hennessey thought, said, ‘Chief Inspector, I really have to insist that at this point you must decide whether to charge my client or terminate this interview until you have more evidence.’

‘There is a fingerprint in the bathroom.’ Hennessey leaned back in his chair. ‘That is evidence of unlawful entry.’

‘Not when my client has been a regular visitor to the house.’

Hennessey reached for the off switch of the tape recorder.

‘This interview is terminated at eleven-forty a.m.’ He switched off the machine, the spools stopped turning, the red light faded. ‘Very well, your client is free to leave the police station. But this is not the end of the matter, please understand that.’

Liam McCarty was a well-set man in his forties, short hair, grey suit. He was a sergeant in the City of York Police Drug Squad. He and Hennessey knew each other just well enough to be on first-name terms. Hennessey tapped on the door of McCarty’s office and sat in the chair in front of McCarty’s desk.

‘Come in and sit down,’ said McCarty with a smile.

Hennessey returned the smile. ‘Tim Sheringham?’ he said.

‘Sheringham…Sheringham…bells ring, George, but I can’t place him.’

‘Sheringham’s Gym. He’s a suspect in a code four one. We put his details into the computer and, among other things, he came up as an alert to you and the good men and women of the DS.’

‘Yes…that Sheringham.’ McCarty stood and walked to a filing cabinet, opened it, and extracted a file and handed it to Hennessey.

‘Well, well…’ Hennessey looked at the grainy black and white photographs in the file which showed Tim Sheringham and Max Williams talking to each other, on a park bench, inside a cafe, walking in the centre of York, walking the walls.

‘So they knew each other? He’s in much more deeply than he’s letting on. What’s the story here?’

‘Incomplete as yet, but we believe that Williams was funding an anabolic steroids racket, and I mean big time, putting up money for large-scale purchase of the stuff which Sheringham was then knocking out to the gym customers. We have a couple of guys in the gym, posing as members. Not enough evidence for an arrest yet, but we were focusing on Williams, we had him in for a quiz session…he’s easy meat, no bottle at all…we just let him know that he was under suspicion…just to put the pressure on him, a slight turn of the screw…we floated the possibility of immunity from prosecution in return for information and a statement implicating Sheringham. He’s a rising drug baron in the Famous and Faire and we’re looking to nip him before he rises much further.’

‘Talk about the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing.’

‘Well, you do know, we registered our interest, had it entered on the computer which is why he came up as an alert to us. Why, what’s happened?’

‘Just that the guy we believe Sheringham has filled in is none other than Max Williams.’

‘Well, there’s your motivation. If he thought Williams was going to blow the whistle on him, and Sheringham’s a nasty piece of work, he wouldn’t hesitate to off someone if he thought it would save him from a stretch as a guest of Her Majesty.’

‘It’s a far stronger motivation than we thought. Makes more sense – he was into Williams’s wife…playing away from home…he walked out on her and we believe Amanda Williams threatened to tell Mrs Sheringham of the affair she had had with her husband. We believe he killed her to stop that and her husband just got in the way somehow. Now it appears that he had a motivation to ice them both.’