Chapter Nineteen

  Twenty minutes later, Sterling and Murray returned to the interview room. Leadsom had been given some tea, just to pass the time and as a reason for him to wait around a little longer, but the fact was that if he’d said in the interim he was going to leave Lake Central he would not have been allowed to do so. Sterling was carrying a new file, and Leadsom saw it – he looked at Murray and discovered that the expression of apparent sympathy which he had detected on that face earlier seemed to have disappeared. Leadsom had made his fortune in difficult meetings and he knew how to read a room – he drank the last of the tea, his eyes still on the detectives over the edge of the mug, and said, ‘I think we’re done.’

  They did not respond to that, and so Leadsom stood up. He met the detective constable’s gaze again and saw a new expression there; Murray had leaned back, making the chair creak in protest, and crossed his arms. This was a big, powerful man and the look was almost inviting the interviewee to try and leave the room. Still on his feet, Leadsom said, ‘What? Am I under arrest now?’

  Sterling opened the folder and began to read the first page – this was a copy of the list of prescriptions Greene had handed to Freeman. Not once looking up at Leadsom, she said, ‘Not yet. Please sit down.’

  The detective sergeant had begun to apologise to Freeman as soon as they met during the suspension of the interview and had politely been told to shut up – then Freeman said, ‘We sent you in to bat without a bat. Here’s a bat,’ handing over what Greene had brought them.

  Leadsom had taken his seat again, and Waters saw the change in him – he was too savvy to say anything else, and his defences had gone up. Sterling said, ‘It’s good news, James.’

  In the recording room, the only sound was the faint whirring of a fan somewhere inside the machinery; in the interview room, the silence must have been even more fraught and unnerving. Waters glanced at the senior investigating officer sitting next to him and saw her mouth working as she nibbled the inside her cheek, a habit he had observed before in moments of… He searched for the words but could only come up with ‘investigative intensity’. If she was aware of Waters watching her, she gave no sign of it.

  Sterling stopped pretending to read the sheet and looked Leadsom directly in the eye, as she said, ‘We think we’ve found Ronnie. And that’s good news, isn’t it? I mean, I know you were never close, but even so…’

  The detectives had discussed whether Leadsom would opt for “No comment” at some point; Waters had thought he would not. Every low-life villain has watched them by now, the videos of true crime investigations, and they parrot the behaviour of the suspects who smirk and repeat those two words. He wasn’t sure why but something had told him James Leadsom had too much class for that – he would opt for silence and wait for the cards to be turned over.

  Sterling said, ‘So, Ronnie is alive. Or he was up to a couple of months ago, according to this,’ indicating the print-out on the desk. ‘Unfortunately, James, I can’t say he’s alive and well. He does appear to have a few medical issues.’

  She looked up, met the silent stare once more and continued by reading out the names of some of the drugs on the sheet. She paused, checked once more with Leadsom and said, ‘We’ve had a quick look at this. To be honest, James, we’ve Googled some of them. It seems Ronnie is being treated for liver failure, which is sad, isn’t it? He’s no age really, is he?’

  The pauses are made to show a jury that opportunities were given for answers to be offered – Waters knew this would never be shown in court but Sterling was in complete control now, and in the absence of any bowling from the opposing end, she had decided to use the bat she had been given as an offensive weapon, a sort of club.

  She said, ‘Was Ronnie a heavy drinker when you knew him well, all those years ago?’

  Leadsom’s face was impenetrable now. It was possible he knew enough of the law to realise that nothing he had done could justify detaining him against his will for long; he had not been cautioned, not been charged, not been sworn in a criminal trial and therefore he was not committing perjury. He had perhaps given the police grounds for suspicion that he had not told them the entire truth, that was all. Freeman had seen this coming and told Sterling and Murray not to play any legal cards with him – she was certain he would call that bluff, and as Murray had pointed out before, Leadsom would not be using a duty solicitor.

  Sterling said, ‘Anyway, that’s just one of his problems, according to the information we now have. He’s also on medication for some serious psychiatric issues. I can’t even pronounce half of these…’

  She studied the sheet again, as if the important thing was being able to do so. Leadsom’s gaze went down to the paper on the table – they had given him long enough to work out what they had found.

  Sterling looked at Leadsom again and said, ‘These prescriptions are from a GP practice in Skegness. They’re filled on a monthly basis and collected by staff from a place called Wainfleet House. We’re looking into this as we speak but it’s a pretty safe conclusion that that’s where Ronnie is living now, and, by the look of the rest of the information we’ve received, where he’s been for some years. Is there anything you’d like to say at this point, James?’

  He gave them just the merest shake of his head. Freeman said to Waters, ‘He’s a cool customer. Be easy to underestimate him.’ And then into the microphone she said, ‘Carry on, Denise. You’re doing fine.’

  Sterling said to Leadsom, ‘We’ve found Wainfleet House on the map. Imagine our surprise when we realised it’s only… How far?’ and then looking at Murray as if she’d forgotten.

  Murray said, ‘Fourteen miles.’

  ‘Imagine that, James. All these years Ronnie’s been living just up the road from Marsh Farm! I know you said you were not close, but the fact is, you were a lot closer than you thought. What are the odds on that, James?’

  Through the camera one could not detect Leadsom’s breathing, and there are perhaps a dozen other ways in which we can subliminally sense the mental state of another human being – watching, Waters wondered how much differently he might have handled this. Despite the training in techniques, interviewing remains as much an art as a science.

  Murray spoke for the first time since the interview had resumed. He said, ‘We are going to need a word with him.’

  It was a short but perfectly judged intervention – Leadsom reacted to it immediately and Murray saw that. He added, ‘There’s no way around it. He’s a key witness in a murder investigation.’

  Freeman said, ‘There could be all sorts of reasons why he doesn’t like that idea, but I think it’s protective. He’s protecting his little brother. Sweet, isn’t it?’

  She looked at Waters as if she wanted his thoughts on the matter, and he didn’t know how to answer. And then Freeman said, ‘So how can we use that?’

  Weeks ago, Waters had realised something had occurred between Freeman and Smith, something to do with the decision not to press charges against Charlie Hills’ son. Smith had mentioned this only indirectly and without pointing a finger but there had been ill-feeling of some sort, and in their last visit to Drifts End, Smith had said, almost in passing, that their DCI was a ruthless opponent. He had said it with an odd expression, and it was only later Waters realised he had been given a warning.

  She said to him again, ‘Chris? Any thoughts? How would you lean on Leadsom now?’

  Waters said he would emphasise again that Ronnie was being viewed only as a witness at this stage of the investigation; he would also talk to Leadsom about the identity of the girl, explaining that she was no longer a mystery and that her twin sister would be coming to England soon. Sometimes making the victim more real is enough – if James was protecting his brother, he might understand how this sister was feeling now.

  Freeman didn’t dismiss these ideas but they never had the chance to test them in the interview room, where moments later things took an unexpected turn, and Leadsom began to speak again. He leaned forward, put both elbows on the table and said to Denise Sterling, ‘No offence, love, but I need to talk to the organ grinder now. I assume he’s watching and listening in – nod once for yes and twice for no.’

  Sharp indeed, thought Waters, and wouldn’t Smith have loved this one? It was difficult to know whether Sterling was more offended by the “love” or the assumption that her boss was a man; he was sure, however, that Leadsom had intended offence of some sort because the two of them simply had not hit it off right from the beginning. It happens – the same rules apply in the interview room as in any other situation in which people interact. You meet honest individuals you dislike and villains you know would be great company on an evening out. The skill comes in separating those feelings from the facts of the matter.

  Sterling tried to talk her way around it. Leadsom listened with patience, allowing her to finish in a way that she must have known was almost patronising, and then he said, ‘You can save your breath, love. There might be a deal to be done here, but I’m not doing it with either of you. I need to know who’d be making the decisions, and whatever I say you’re only going to leave the room and be told what to say in return. So let’s cut out the middlemen. You’ve done all right up to now.’

  Freeman said into the mike, ‘Stall him for a couple of minutes,’ and then to Waters, ‘A deal? What sort of a deal?’

  This time his answer came more promptly because of the sudden change in Leadsom’s approach – he said to Freeman, ‘It has to be more than an appeal to be kind to Ronnie. He thinks he has something to offer in return, ma’am.’

  She nodded and he could see Freeman had come to the same conclusion. She said, ‘Agreed. We have to know what that is, and he knows it. What would you do? Would you give way and talk to him yourself?’

  Freeman was regularly firing these questions at him now. One had to think quickly and decisively, even when one’s instincts were to reflect and gaze out of the window. He said, ‘Yes. Leadsom’s intelligent but he has an ego that likes to see himself as in charge. He used the word “deal”. He’s viewing this as a takeover or a buyout. I’d play along with that.’

  She was aware of Priti and her notepad, close by as always. She said, ‘As SIO you’re supposed to be managing the evidence chain, not making it.’

  Waters said, ‘It’s unlikely, in my opinion, that he’s going to say anything that might lead to his own prosecution, ma’am. I know the protocol, but in this case… He could get up and leave at any moment and I don’t think he’s going to talk to anyone but the organ grinder, as he put it.’

  She nodded – ‘All right. We’ll play along. But one of those monkeys is going to be pretty pissed off. It wasn’t a match made in Heaven, was it?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  She told Priti to make a complete note of what she was about to do. And then she said to Waters, ‘We’ll give him two fresh faces. You’re coming in with me.’

  Chapter Twenty

  When they entered the interview room, Leadsom stood up. He did not offer to shake hands with Freeman – and if he had she would have refused, Waters knew – but the old-fashioned politeness suggested to him that Leadsom’s sexist attitude towards Denise Sterling had been calculated and deliberate. Neither did he show any surprise on learning that this young woman was in charge of a murder investigation. Freeman sat down and told Leadsom to do the same. Her opening remark was, ‘I’m stepping out of line here, Mr Leadsom – I hope you’re not going to waste my time.’

  Denise Sterling and John Murray had taken their places in the recording room, which seemed only fair; Waters assumed that Denise would resist the temptation to switch on the microphone and direct her boss if things became complicated.

  Leadsom began to say something about appreciating what she was doing, and Freeman interrupted him – ‘We should get one thing clear. DC Murray was absolutely correct when he told you we will be paying a visit to Wainfleet House. Nothing you say to me is going to change that.’

  Leadsom looked at her for some seconds and then glanced at Waters. He pursed his lips, frowned and gave a single nod, and in response to that, Freeman added, ‘On that basis, we’re prepared to hear what you have to say.’

  Waters watched the hands that Leadsom had rested on the table, the right on top of the left – they were still and giving nothing away. There was a single plain gold ring on the index finger of the upper hand. Leadsom said, ‘I’m asking you to back off for forty-eight hours.’

  ‘Really?’

  Freeman looked at Waters as if to see whether he too found that amusing, and then added, ‘I can think of no earthly reason why I would agree to that, Mr Leadsom. Unless you can give me a good reason, I think we’re already done here.’

  He waited, and perhaps he was calling her bluff. Freeman had brought with her the file Sterling had used; she picked it up and said to Waters ‘OK?’ as she moved to get out of her seat.

  ‘Hold on! Hold on… I’m being straight with you here. I want the time to get some advice, that’s all. I’m talking legal advice, and not for Ronnie, for me. I need to know where I stand on a couple of things.’

  Freeman put down the file and said, ‘Why would you need legal advice?’

  This was a clever question, of course – if he answered it directly, he might find himself making an admission instead of a deal. Leadsom took a little time.

  ‘I want to take some advice on whether I need some advice.’

  ‘And you think I will suspend a murder investigation because you’d like to get some legal advice? Out of the goodness of my heart? I can tell you, Mr Leadsom, that if my detective sergeant here wasn’t so well-mannered, he’d be laughing out loud. Anything else? We could put you up in a nice hotel here in Lake while you take some time to think things over…’

  Leadsom didn’t bat an eyelid at the sarcasm but it was this approach which brought him to the turning over of his first card on the table. He said, ‘Whatever my lawyer tells me, I’ll talk to you anyway. I’ll tell you what I know. I just need to have some things organised before I do.’

  She said, ‘Tell us what you know about what, Mr Leadsom?’

  He thought for a long time before he answered her. The hands came up off the table, the fingers interlocked and formed an arch on which Leadsom rested his chin as he stared down at the file in front of Freeman. Finally he looked up at her and said, ‘How she died.’

  Twenty years is a long, long time – time enough for someone to be born, experience their entire childhood, finish their secondary education and be two years into university or their first job. Some even marry and begin families of their own in less than twenty years. When Sylvie Favreau was killed, Waters realised, he was in primary school and short trousers, yet now they were on the verge of finding out the truth about her death – having exhumed her remains, they were about to exhume the truth itself.

  Freeman’s face gave nothing away but she too must be feeling it. She said in matter-of-fact fashion, ‘If you think you need legal advice, Mr Leadsom, that suggests to us that you believe you might have committed an offence. If you admit an offence to me, I must, under the law, caution you, and this interview will conclude. When it recommences, it will be under a different set of circumstances.’

  This was a subtle point but absolutely correct, and Waters understood immediately why she had made it to Leadsom – she did not want anything to interrupt the opportunity to discover what he knew; she was effectively saying to him, even if you believe you have committed an offence, don’t admit it until you’ve told me everything else.

  Leadsom seemed to understand this, and nodded. Then she said to him, ‘There is one question I have to ask you, then. James Leadsom – were you personally involved in the murder of Sylvie Favreau?’

  The name took him by surprise. Whatever Leadsom knew, he had been carrying it around in his conscience for two decades, and though a thought is weightless, it must still become heavier over such a span of time as that. The name makes it worse, somehow.

  Leadsom said, ‘No, I was not.’

  Freeman said, ‘On that basis then, rather than end it, I am going to suspend this interview briefly while I consult with a senior officer. Would you like some more tea?’

  Waters had assumed she might speak with Detective Chief Superintendent Allen but no – it was DI Greene she consulted, back in the main office, along with the rest of the team. She wanted to know how far he had got with Wainfleet House. Greene said, ‘I’ve made contact. He’s there and has been for some years. I didn’t ask for details but I have told them we have his medical records from the DHSC, and after that there wasn’t any resistance. I have the name and number of his consultant.’

  Freeman looked around the team, not needing to say ‘Thoughts?’ on this occasion. Denise Sterling said, ‘I don’t see why we should give him any time.’

  And from Serena, ‘If we do, he can’t have any contact with Ronnie.’

  Murray – ‘Or anyone at Wainfleet House who might speak to Ronnie on his behalf.’

  She nodded and said to Greene, ‘When you’re talking to the consultant, that needs to be clear. You can say it’s for Ronnie’s own protection. And see if you can find out whether James does visit. Have another word with your old mates in Lincolnshire, let them know what we’re doing. If James turns up at the place, they might need to keep the door locked, and the local uniforms should be called in that case.’

  Sterling said, ‘Can I ask, ma’am, why you’re giving Leadsom what he wants?’

  This was the other side of the coin. When Freeman gave you a direct order, you’d best carry it out and ask questions later, but when plans were being made and discussions were in progress, it was understood that you could speak your mind.