Serena sensed it; Chloe has been waiting for twenty years. There will have been many hopes and disappointments – she wants, she needs for this to be over now but it has to be for certain.

  Freeman said, ‘Madame Favreau, I-’

  ‘Chloe, please.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m not sure how much you have been told about our investigation, Chloe. It is a complex one. But my team and I are now certain that the remains we have found belong to Sylvie. They have been examined by experts from Cambridge University. There is medical evidence to suggest it is Sylvie, as well as the DNA.’

  Chloe Favreau asked about the medical evidence – and Freeman made a mental note to tell the rest of the team that this relative was likely to ask for details every time. And what an ironic contrast to the behaviour of James Leadsom.

  Freeman said, ‘We have her dental records should we need another form of confirmation…’ and then she saw Serena tapping her forearm and remembered. She continued, ‘And other significant details. We know that the young woman found here broke her arm when she was quite young.’

  Chloe Favreau said, ‘Which arm was this?’

  ‘Her right arm, close to the wrist.’

  There was a pause. Priti always used a pencil – the sound of it continued for maybe four or five more seconds and then came to an end.

  ‘She was seven. She jumped from a swing. She was always going too ’igh.’

  A difficult moment. Freeman said, ‘Once again, Chloe, you have all our sincere sympathies.’

  They did not know how much Sylvie’s sister had been told by the French police but she did not ask about the cause of death – it was possible she didn’t want to hear those details so soon. She explained her situation, however, and what she intended to do. She was a school teacher in Marseille, a wife and the mother of two children, aged twelve and nine. The school term did not end until the 6th of July but she was certain she would be able to get a leave of absence under these circumstances. She would come to England, to Norfolk, once she had made the necessary arrangements. She would like to meet the officers who had found Sylvie after such a long time, because she wanted to thank them in person, and then she wanted to take Sylvie home, back to France. She was telling the officer in charge of the case these things now so that the legal processes could begin as soon as possible.

  She said, ‘Do you think there will be a problem? Someone will need to sign papers, won’t they?’

  Freeman could be disarmingly honest when the occasion required it. She said, ‘I honestly have no idea, Chloe. I’ve never been in this situation and I don’t know anyone who has. But I promise you I will find out, and I will make your wishes known to my superiors. As far as I am concerned, what happens to Sylvie now should be your decision, and yours alone.’

  Serena listened to these exchanges and thought her boss could not have handled it any better – Freeman could be tough and abrupt, and often without warning, but then she would surprise you with a side to herself you would not have imagined possible. All people are complicated but some are more complicated than others, she decided, and then heard her own name mentioned – ‘… one of my detective constables, Serena, will act as your first point of contact, Chloe. Here she is.’

  They said hello and exchanged contact details. Serena noted the best times to call with any new information, and Chloe Favreau was told that her English liaison officer was available twenty-four seven. When this had been done, Freeman made the sign that said you end the call, I don’t need to speak to her again.

  Afterwards, Freeman shook her head and said, ‘Poor woman. It’s bad enough to lose a sister… To lose your twin? What did she say? “She was always going too high”?’

  Serena nodded, and Freeman went on, ‘I really wanted to quiz her after that, to find out about Sylvie, but it was way too soon. Wasn’t it?’

  She looked at the two other women and received two nods.

  ‘Still, Serena, if you’re talking to her maybe you’ll be able to find out a little more…’

  And there it was back again, the reassuring ruthlessness that drove the team forward through the bad days as well as the good ones. Serena said, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and then the senior investigating officer moved on.

  ‘Good. Tell DI Greene what we’ve just arranged with Chloe Favreau. And what’s happening with James Leadsom? He’s beginning to get on my nerves.’

  Forty minutes after those words had been spoken, the internal phones in the main office buzzed. Clive Betts picked it up, listened and called across to John Murray that it was for him, from reception. Murray was busy and didn’t get up immediately – Greene had told him the senior executive officer from the DHSC had just agreed that some disclosure of Ronald Leadsom’s medical records would be made and officials were now debating the extent of the disclosure they were willing to offer to the police. Greene said this could take another three weeks, and if he was on holiday, Murray should deal with it.

  The line to reception remained open for some minutes and anyone close enough to it might have heard a tinny voice on the other end asking if there was anyone there, as if this was some sort of electronic séance. Eventually Murray picked up the handset and asked the obvious question.

  ‘Good of you to answer,’ said an irritated voice. ‘Anyone would think we have nothing better to do all day…’ but it tailed off because the relationship between uniform and the others is like a long marriage which is never as good as it might have been but which is not so terrible that the partners feel the need to put it out of its misery.

  ‘… some bloke down here asking for you, detective constable.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Leadsom.’

  Murray straightened up to his full six feet and four inches, caught Greene’s eye, mouthed ‘Leadsom’ and pointed down towards his feet. It might seem improbable but the DI understood exactly what he meant, got up out of his seat and made a gesture of his own which seemed to involve opening and closing something. Murray nodded and told the officer in reception to get Leadsom this side of a door that needed a security code to re-open it. Afterwards he realised he hadn’t even asked for a Christian name but it hardly mattered – any Leadsom would do.

  Freeman had said, ‘This is more like it.’

  The four of them – Freeman, Greene, Denise Sterling and Waters stood by Greene’s desk and discussed the way forward now that James Leadsom had been brought up and safely stowed in Interview Two. Planning ‘The Approach’ is a critical part of the process – it cannot be undone and you only get that first opportunity once. Murray should be involved; that was a given. It offered continuity and a connection of some sort for the interviewee, and it was also in its own way a reward for a job well done. Freeman was now considering who should go in with Murray in the light of the little they knew about Leadsom. As the senior investigating officer she had come to accept the new protocol, that it should not be her; Greene, as the desk officer on the case, would also not usually be involved in such an interview. Therefore, it would be one of her two detective sergeants, both of whom had relevant experience.

  She said, ‘As far as we know, he lives on his own?’

  Greene nodded and said Murray had formed that impression. Waters wondered how she was feeding that into her calculation, and then Freeman continued, ‘so at some point the wife and kids have left the scene. Twenty years ago, so the kids will be in their twenties, which is fair enough. What happened to Mrs Leadsom, I wonder…’

  Waters still could not see it but Denise nodded and said, ‘We should find out, ma’am. Depending on how the split went, she might be willing to talk – especially if her ex isn’t.’

  And that was enough. To Waters it was an improbable idea, that Leadsom’s presumably ex-wife might know what had happened to her former brother-in-law, but it was a reminder that male and female detectives do operate differently at times, and that was why DC always said he wanted two of each in the ideal team. Freeman said, ‘OK, Denise, in you go. Talk it through with John now, and let’s aim to get things underway in fifteen minutes. Chris, you and I are watching a movie. I like that toffee-flavoured popcorn.’

  He did not immediately give the impression of a man whose name had once featured prominently in the headlines of The Financial Times. James Leadsom had made more money than most of us can imagine and he had spent a good deal of it but he didn’t look happy and he didn’t look particularly healthy. He was somewhat overweight, and pale – too much good food piles on the pounds but Leadsom looked as if he had eaten too much of the other sort. Waters had an image of a pizza delivery boy waiting at the security gates Murray had described. And Leadsom had something of a tired and deflated air, jaded, as if he had seen and done a little too much of everything money can buy. He did not look concerned at being interviewed by the police, but something had brought him here. As Freeman had put it moments ago, Leadsom had taken the bait and it was time to reel him in. Waters had wished Denise Sterling good luck but she would have guessed he would rather have been going into the interview room himself than watching her on screen.

  Murray was speaking first, thanking Leadsom for offering to help with their inquiries – which he had not, of course. Every officer involved recognised that Freeman’s calculations a couple of days ago had been correct, and that Leadsom was here because he wanted to find out what the police thought they knew about his brother; what was interesting was why he was so curious if the two of them had never, as he had told Murray, been very close.

  Denise interrupted Murray as if she was impatient with the two of them catching up – she asked Leadsom to tell her about the last time he had had contact with Ronnie. Freeman glanced at Waters and nearly smiled – he too understood that this was something the two interviewing detectives had agreed beforehand. Murray would appear to be the decent bloke who had believed what Leadsom had told him, and this bossy and officious woman looked like a common enemy.

  Leadsom said he wasn’t sure of a date but it was years ago. Families lose touch all the time. Hadn’t spoken to Ronnie since before he moved up to Marsh Farm. Sterling already sounded bored as she said, ‘So that’s at least three years, according to what you told my colleague. Do you live there on your own?’

  Leadsom nodded, fixing his gaze on Sterling now.

  She said, ‘DC Murray tells me it’s a big place.’

  ‘Well,’ Leadsom said, ‘he’s very observant, isn’t he?’

  That was unexpected – Waters saw Freeman’s eyebrows twitch upwards a little. There was a microphone on the table in front of her, one she could use to talk to Sterling; she moved it towards herself a few inches but didn’t switch it on. The eye contact between Leadsom and the detective sergeant lasted for some seconds before she continued with, ‘So you’re telling us that your brother Ronnie has never visited you at Marsh Farm?’

  Leadsom hadn’t taken his eyes off Sterling yet. He said, ‘As I said, I haven’t spoken to him since I moved there, so unless he made a secret visit I’d have to say that’s what I’m telling you, yeah. What’s this about?’

  No one had anticipated Leadsom going onto the offensive as quickly as this, and Waters realised that Denise had a difficult job now – because they had virtually nothing to play with. The DNA evidence involving his brother was incontrovertible but if James Leadsom denied all knowledge and demanded to know why he had been called here, this interview would be a short one. Waters was watching the screen as intently as Freeman, and he saw it – the moment when Sterling’s eyes wavered and glanced up at the camera that was recording the interview. Was she looking for help already?

  Murray stepped in then, and said, ‘James, it’s like I told you. We’re re-investigating what happened to the girl who was found dead on the Wissingham estate. I can’t tell you all the details but there’ve been some developments this week. I can tell you there’s evidence now that Ronnie met that girl.’

  Leadsom turned his attention to Murray and when he responded, his attitude was different, perhaps deliberately so as a way of showing his contempt for the other detective present. He said, ‘Mate – and it’s like I told you. I wasn’t there. Ronnie would’ve met scores of people, and if she was a looker, he’d have made a point of meeting her. That was Ronnie, back in the day. But this is history. I thought you had things to tell me. Why have you brought me in here when I told you I don’t know where he is?’

  Freeman said aloud as she watched Leadsom, ‘We didn’t bring you in – you came. Why? Come on, Denise. Find a way to keep him talking.’

  But it was Murray who picked it up again. He said, ‘We can’t find him, James. He seems to have disappeared without a trace. When people do that, we tend to worry about them. We wanted to talk, to see if there’s any way you can help, anything you can give us.’

  Leadsom considered this for several seconds – long enough for Sterling to put in, ‘And we want to speak to him as a witness. He’s not a suspect at this stage.’

  Leadsom made a point of not looking at her again. He said to Murray, ‘In the message you left me, you said “as his next of kin”. We all know what that implies – that someone has died. But you don’t think that – at least, you don’t know it. You said that just to get me here. This is a wind-up.’

  Freeman looked at Waters. She said, ‘He’s sharp. I’m going to pull them out before he walks. We need to try something else. You-’

  Murray was talking again – ‘You’re right but it’s not a total wind-up. And in your line of work you must have pulled a few stunts in your time.’

  Leadsom was listening and he shrugged – that was enough. Murray said, ‘Before you go, it would help if you can give us a picture of Ronnie in those days. You mentioned the girls. Was there anyone he was involved with afterwards? Anyone we could talk to, to see if we can find him?’

  Leadsom wasn’t refusing, and Murray said, ‘What DS Sterling said is correct. We know Ronnie met the girl. We’re not saying he’s a suspect.’

  With an undisguised sardonic edge, Leadsom said, ‘You just want to eliminate him from your inquiries…’

  Murray managed an awkward smile as if he’d been caught out again. Leadsom shifted in the chair, sitting back a little and said, ‘The chicks loved Ronnie, and Ronnie loved the chicks. New Age? Free love? It was Ronnie’s idea of heaven on earth…’

  As he began to talk, Freeman turned to Waters and said, ‘Make sure Murray gets a lollipop.’

  That last year, the place was already up for sale though it wasn’t generally known. Ronnie had persuaded him to let the festival go ahead and promised he’d organise it properly. There wasn’t a hope in hell that would happen, of course, but James had lost interest in Wissingham and wasn’t too bothered by what the locals might think – they’d been nothing but a nuisance since he bought the place.

  There were some weird sorts involved, though. James had met them in previous years and the same ones turned up as regularly as the flu – those were his words. All sorts of nut-jobs and free-loaders as far as he was concerned but it was a bit of fun, it livened up the place for a couple of weeks every year. Ronnie was into all of it, flitting from one wacko idea to the next and from one pretty girl to another. He said, ‘Ronnie was a good-looking kid and he had the charm as well…’ And then, remembering what this was all about, he said, ‘He was never heavy with anyone. It was all about fun for Ronnie. He’d never hurt a fly.’

  A different note sounded in his voice then, and Waters heard it – Freeman saw him making a note. After a pause, Murray said, ‘Ronnie made a brief statement during the first investigation, but there’s no record after that when it was being followed up. Any idea where he went at that time?’

  No, Leadsom said. He, James, was living back in London by then and had his own stuff going on. Wissingham was sold before Christmas and he never went back there. As far as he knew, Ronnie had gone back to the smoke as well. They used to keep in touch, the odd phone call, but months would go by, and then it was years. Murray asked what Ronnie did for work, and the answer was that he was always trying to get into the music business, studios, production, promoting, but again James didn’t know any details or names.

  Listening to this, Freeman said, ‘For a clever man he has a peculiarly poor memory for details, doesn’t he?’ and Waters could only agree. He said, ‘A couple of times now he’s pointed out that Ronnie was not threatening in any way, that he was never violent. Is that just because James knows this is a murder investigation?’

  Freeman nodded – ‘Or is there a more specific reason – I’ve had the same thought. They were never very close and he hasn’t spoken to Ronnie in years but he’s going out of his way to make sure we think well of him. It doesn’t quite add up… This hasn’t been a complete waste of time. We’ve got a clearer picture of what was going on during the festivals, from someone who was present at previous ones. What we’ve been told about Ronnie more or less confirms the DNA finding wasn’t the result of a freakish coincidence – he and Sylvie had a close encounter. What we don’t know is whether that had anything at all to do with her death.’

  Murray had done well but Waters didn’t know whether he could keep the interview going any longer – and as he had that thought, there was a knock on the door, followed by the entrance of DI Greene. In his hand he held a print-out which he handed to Freeman, and he never said a word. She began to read it and then looked up at the two of them. She said to Greene, ‘Is this what I think it is?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. It’s part of Ronnie Leadsom’s medical record. Those are the dates of prescriptions.’

  She traced down them with a forefinger and said one of her favourite swearwords, more to herself than to her colleagues. And then to Waters, ‘They’re current. The last on the list is two months ago. And I happen to know what some of this stuff is for…’

  Greene stepped behind her and pointed as he said, ‘There’s more. This number is the reference code for the prescribing GP’s practice. I’ve looked it up. I’ve written the details on the back, ma’am.’ Freeman turned the sheet over, stared at it and then she reached for the microphone. Denise Sterling nodded, the agreed signal, and then Freeman said, ‘Suspend the interview. We’ll send in someone to wait with him. I want you both out, now.’