‘Then why bother with smashing up the car, if you’re going to kill someone anyway…’ Janine said.
‘Maybe the car was the initial plan and then he’s still mad with jealousy so he ups the ante,’ Shap said.
‘Why the wait?’ Janine said. ‘The car was smashed up in the early hours then he waits all day until the surgery is closing to make his move on Halliwell. What’s that about?’
‘Perhaps that’s the only time he can get Halliwell on his own,’ said Richard.
‘We don’t have the Range Rover in the area on the Tuesday evening,’ Janine said.
Shap shrugged. ‘Went on foot, less easy to trace him.’
Lisa called out, ‘Boss, Langan used his card on Tuesday at a Travel Inn at Chester services.’
‘He’ll be long gone, now,’ Shap said.
‘No, he used the same card at the ATM there last night,’ Lisa said.
‘Go on, then,’ Janine told them, ‘what you waiting for?’
Butchers was trying to establish whether Halliwell had actually been to visit Roy Gant or if that was another cover story for this funny business with the drugs.
Gant lived in a small terrace with mullioned windows, double glazed so they looked odd, too fussy for the property, Butchers thought.
Butchers knocked and introduced himself. He apologized for the intrusion and explained the reason for his call.
Roy Gant grunted and nodded he should go on. He was dishevelled, Butchers saw, probably still dazed from his wife’s death.
‘Mr Gant, did Dr Halliwell visit you on Tuesday afternoon?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He had to do the cause of death certificate, for Peggy. Then he was calling home, he said, before afternoon surgery.’
This was news to Butchers.
‘What time was he here?’ Butchers said.
‘About two o’clock,’ Gant said.
‘How long was he here?’
‘About ten, fifteen minutes. Just filling out the certificate,’ Gant’s voice caught. Butchers nodded, a little uneasy at the man’s raw grief.
There was nothing about Dr Halliwell calling to his own home in his schedule for the Tuesday but maybe something like that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Dr Halliwell was in charge of the practice after all. If he fancied nipping home for a bite to eat or forty winks he’d not have to answer to anyone.
Butchers thanked Mr. Gant and back in his car he jotted down the new timeline.
1.30 pm, Chemist’s – collecting drugs for Marjorie Keysham
2.00 pm Roy Gant’s
2.20 Home
What if Halliwell was an addict? Maybe he popped home to use the drugs? The notion struck Butchers like a stroke of genius for all of ten seconds. It wouldn’t work, would it? They would have checked at the post mortem.
Chapter 35
Lisa and Shap enquired at the Travel Inn reception for Neil Langan and the receptionist pointed them towards the lounge bar.
‘It could be a domestic after all,’ Lisa said. And if it was, if Neil Langan had killed Halliwell in a crime of passion, then Lisa would be off the hook for messing up the Matthews arrest.
Shap just rolled his eyes, like she was baying for the moon.
Neil Langan was slumped in a corner booth, eyes shut, empty glasses in front of him.
‘Neil Langan?’ Shap said.
Langan startled awake, eyes bleary. ‘What?’
‘DS Shap and DC Goodall.’ Shap made the introductions.
Neil Langan stretched his neck, as though he’d a crick in it. ‘I wondered how long you’d be,’ he said. ‘I thought she should know that’s all.’ He gave a shrug.
‘Back up a bit, sir,’ Lisa said. ‘You were outside the surgery where your wife works on Monday night?’
‘Yes,’ Neil Langan said, ‘I wanted to see with my own eyes. I’d rung the Monday before to ask Dawn something, but the surgery was closed.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘She wasn’t at a late-night clinic every Monday like she told me; she was shagging Don Halliwell.’ He leaned forward and lifted a glass, whisky, Lisa guessed, and drained it. ‘I waited this time,’ Langan went on, ‘and I followed them to the hotel. Then I got hammered and I rang Mrs Halliwell and I told her all about them. Then I sank a few more – pints and chasers.’ He waved the glass. ‘And I went round there in the middle of the night and I rammed his car. Bastard.’
No attempt to mislead them or deny any of it.
‘Where were you on Tuesday, afternoon and evening?’ Lisa said.
‘Here,’ Neil Langan said, ‘well, that table over there, I think.’ He flapped a hand. ‘Or that one.’
‘Can anyone confirm that?’ Shap said.
‘Ask the staff,’ Neil Langan said. ‘I’m their big spender, this week.’ He waved at the bartender who gave a small shake of the head and busied himself stocking up the bottles behind, clearly weary of Langan, Lisa thought. She walked over to him and asked how long Langan had been in residence.
‘Too long,’ the man said.
‘Do you know when he arrived?’
‘He was in here as soon as we opened on Tuesday morning,’ he said, ‘drowning his sorrows.’
‘Did he leave the premises any time on Tuesday?’
‘No. Still here when I clocked off at seven,’ the man said.
There was no way Neil Langan could have returned to Manchester and shot the doctor.
Lisa went back across to the booth and got there in time to hear Langan protesting, ‘I don’t know what you’re wasting time with me for – it’s Norma Halliwell you want to be talking to. I tell her what’s going on, that her husband is shagging my wife, and next thing…’ He mimed someone shooting a gun, made a pow sound like a kid might. ‘I’d no idea she’d take it like that, shoot her own husband. That’s who you should be talking to.’ He stared at the empty glass in his hand, held it up to the light as if there might be more booze hiding somewhere inside it. ‘You should be talking to her. I spill the beans and she goes mental. Norma Halliwell. Unbelievable.’
Chapter 36
Janine and Richard were on their way to the Halliwell house. Janine was trying to accommodate the new theory, relinquish Langan as a suspect given his watertight alibi and focus on Norma Halliwell. ‘She might have motive but how on earth would she get hold of a gun? She’s a piano teacher – her clientele aren’t likely to be toting small arms about,’ Janine said.
‘Hit man?’ Richard said.
‘I can’t see it, though I have been known to be wrong.’
‘Steady on,’ Richard said.
She cut her eyes at him. ‘A doctor’s wife, in her sixties. Can you see her hanging round dodgy pubs in search of a contract killer? Not in a million years. She only learned about the affair on Monday night. And how did she get to the surgery and back? Halliwell had her car, his was wrecked.’
‘Taxi?’ Richard said.
‘So how do we handle it?’ Richard said as Janine drew the car into the kerb outside the house.
‘We can’t put the gun in her hand,’ Janine said, ‘but she’s clearly been keeping things from us. Not a dicky bird about Langan’s phone call. So let’s push her a bit, see what we get, eh?’
Norma Halliwell took her time to answer the door and seemed unsurprised to find them there.
‘We’d like a few minutes of your time,’ Janine explained, ‘to try and clarify some points that have come to light.’
Norma gave a nod and they went with her into the front room again.
She sat in an armchair, her manner distracted, absent, picking at the piping on the chair.
‘Neil Langan rang you on Monday evening,’ Janine said.
Norma glanced at Janine then lowered her eyes.
‘He told you that Don was having a relationship with his wife, Dawn Langan,’ Janine said. ‘That must have been quite a shock?’
‘Not really,’ Norma said, ‘I thought there was someone.’