Michael Fowler - Secret of the Dead

“Meanwhile, I’ll be overseeing a search of your home,” added SIO Dawn Leggate. “Is there anyone else in the house we need to be aware of?”

He gulped, “My wife, Pauline, but she’s not very well. She’s made up with flu. She’s sleeping in the back bedroom.”

“Well, we’ll inconvenience her as little as possible, and we’ll try our best not to damage anything. Now if you’d get dressed please and my officers will escort you back to the station. I will see you later and update you.” The SIO beamed a broad smile at him. “After all, we want to make sure you have no grounds for complaint.”

Hunter thought he heard Alan Darbyshire swear beneath his breath as he trudged his way upstairs to dress.

* * * * *

Once they had left Darbyshire’s house, Hunter wanted as little contact as possible with their prisoner before his interview. He arranged for the retired DCI to be escorted back to the station by Tony Bullars and Mike Sampson, and for them to book him in at the custody suite. He knew that what lay ahead would challenge everything he had learned over the years, and so when he returned to the office he drafted an outline plan of how he intended to approach the interview. Twenty minutes later his pre-interview notes were ready. He cast his eye back over them, double-checking, matching times and dates against the evidence and information which had been recorded on the incident white boards. Finally he selected the exhibits he required, checked they were all labelled correctly, and that they corresponded with his notes. He slipped everything into a folder.

“Ready?” he asked, looking across his desk to Grace. She was resting her head in her hands.

“This is a first,” she said getting up, “You making notes prior to an interview. After all these years, you’re finally going to conduct an interview according to the rules.”

He smiled. “You’re know what they say about wit?”

“Anyway while you were preparing your stuff, I nipped next door to the HOLMES team and had a chat with Isobel. Things are really stepping up a gear.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She tells me that they’ve done quite a few checks on Peter Blake-Hall and Ronnie Fisher. Associates, vehicle ownership and premises checks mainly. They’ve got an address for Ronnie and guess what?”

Hunter raised an eyebrow.

“Swansea have confirmed a black Mitsubushi Shogun Sport listed to that address. Ronnie is right in the doo-dah now. The boss has asked Tony and Mike to do some discreet enquiries to confirm if he’s still living there and see if they can spot the vehicle. The gaffer’s apparently trying to get hold of Headquarters Surveillance Team to target him and Peter, especially now that we’ve pulled in Alan Darbyshire.”

“Well, we’d better make sure we can sign, seal and deliver everything at our end then.” He picked up his folder and a pen and made for the door.

In the interview room Alan Darbyshire was already seated at a table with the duty solicitor Miles Harper. As solicitors went, Hunter knew that Miles was one of the more amenable ones, who, providing the rules of PACE were adhered to, would allow the interview to flow without interruption.

Hunter had already decided he was going to play it straight down the line.

From chest height Hunter dropped his folder on the table and let some of the papers and exhibits spill out. The file was bulging, and his actions were deliberate. He wanted Alan Darbyshire to see exactly how much evidence they had against him. Hunter was determined to take a psychological advantage. He lowered himself into a seat opposite his adversary and tried to fix him with a stare. The retired DCI immediately dropped his gaze. Hunter loosened his shirt collar and slackened the knot in his tie. Then slowly he unfastened his shirt cuffs and rolled them back over his forearms. He clasped his hands in front of him, resting on the table.

Grace dropped into the seat next to him and switched on the tape recorder. A buzzing noise filled the room for several seconds.

When it stopped, Hunter said, “This interview is being tape recorded.” He then went into the starting preamble to any police tape recorded interview, strengthening the tone of his voice as he reminded Alan Darbyshire that he was still under caution,

“You understand why you have been arrested this morning?” he asked across the table. Darbyshire was beginning to sweat. Droplets of sweat teased his Brylcreemed hairline.

“Yes, and all I want to ask is when this is supposed to have occurred?”

“Nineteen-eighty-four. The trial of Daniel Weaver ring any bells?”

“A long time ago now, but yes I remember it.”

Hunter opened his folder and picked up his pre-interview notes. He scanned them, then looked up at Alan Darbyshire. This time he held Hunter’s stare.

“Mr Darbyshire, in nineteen-eighty-three you were a detective Sergeant in headquarters CID, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And in August of that year, the twenty-seventh to be precise, you received a phone call from Peter Blake-Hall to the effect that his wife was missing. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“Can you lead me through what you did regarding that missing person enquiry.”

Alan Darbyshire licked this lips, then answered, “Peter rang me early that Saturday morning and told me that his wife hadn’t come home, and that he was worried because he had rung her parents, and round her friends and no one had seen or heard from her. I went to his house with Jeff Howson, made the decision that this was not a usual missing from home, and therefore took a few details and got a recent photo from him of his wife Lucy, then went back to the nick and began making enquiries.” He paused, but he still held eye contact with Hunter across the table.

“Go on, tell me exactly what you did.”

“You know what happened after that, because I’m guessing that since we last spoke you will have read the file, otherwise why would you be asking these questions?”

“Please Alan, just go through what you did regarding your enquiries.”

He shook his head. “Well, as you know we found out that Lucy had been seen arguing with a man the night before in Barnwell Market place — the Friday, it was a Bank Holiday and there were quite a few folks about who had witnessed it. Anyway we found out that the person she had been seen arguing with was a Daniel Weaver. That was the last anyone had seen of her and so, early Sunday morning, me and Jeff went around to his flat and had a chat with him, hoping that Lucy was there. She wasn’t, of course. He admitted he’d been having an affair with her, and that he’d asked her to come and live with him, but she’d told him it was over and they’d ended up rowing about it. We noticed scratches to his face and when we asked him how they’d come about he said that Lucy had done them when he’d grabbed hold of her and she’d pulled away. When we asked him what had happened after the argument, he told us she had left to go home. We weren’t happy with that story and so we arrested him and carried out a search of his flat.”

“And did you find anything?”

“Not in his flat we didn’t. Later, Scenes of Crime found her prints there, but we knew from what he’d told us that she had spent some time there, so they were valueless. But we did find her handbag in a shed in the garden at the back of the flats, which was his. It was hidden in some sacking. He couldn’t account for it being there.”

“And it was definitely Lucy’s handbag?”

“Definitely. Peter identified it.”

“So you then interviewed him back at the station?”

“Yes.”

“And what form did that interview take?”

“I interviewed him and Jeff wrote down everything.”