Everyone was squashed into a station ill-equipped for the scale of the operation now underway, as is all too often the case with murder investigations deemed to require a Major Incident Room away from base.
The office manager’s job was not going to be an easy one. Saslow’s first thought was that DI Janet Peters, the deputy SIO whom she knew Nobby had selected, had to be competent and experienced or she wouldn’t have been appointed to the task. But it quickly became apparent that Janet Peters wasn’t Margot Hartley. Saslow was used to working with Hartley and Vogel as deputy SIOs. Their set-up was simple, and had become comfortably familiar. Hemmings held the investigation together at the top. But Hartley held it together at ground level, as an office manager capable of solving seemingly impossible problems of manpower and logistics and making it all look easy. It was as if she never felt the stress and weariness that at some stage or other inevitably overwhelmed all the rest of them during a tough investigation. In addition, she had the enviable knack of bending people to her will without them always noticing it. At Bristol MCIT she was known as ‘bloody superwoman’, by the mere mortals around her, sometimes in exasperation, but invariably in admiration.
It quickly became apparent to Saslow that DI Janet Peters had probably never even heard of superwoman.
As she and Vogel walked into the station lobby they were immediately confronted by the spectacle of a mildly dishevelled looking woman locked in a loud argument with a tall red-headed man whose temper seemed to be in keeping with that traditionally attributed to people of his hair colour. Both were in plain clothes.
‘I need more office space for our team, Detective Sergeant Pearce, and that’s that,’ she demanded.
‘You come in here shouting the odds, and then you expect us to cooperate,’ countered the DS forcibly. ‘Well, you’ve got another think coming, I’ll tell you that.’
Saslow realized the slightly dishevelled looking woman shouting the odds must be DI Peters, even though they had yet to meet, because she could not be anyone else. And she guessed that the detective sergeant, clearly highly frustrated at the invasion of his territory, was probably the senior permanent CID officer at Bideford.
Vogel walked straight up to the quarrelling pair and introduced himself.
‘Can I help?’ he asked casually.
DI Peters coloured slightly. Both officers looked embarrassed.
‘Just a few teething problems,’ said the DI, forcing a smile. ‘I’m sure we’ll sort them soon.’
‘I’m sure you will too,’ said Vogel. ‘And I’ll let you get on with it. DS Saslow and I just need a corner where we can get ourselves up to speed and check through all the data that’s been accumulated so far.’
‘Of course, I’ll see to it, just give me a moment,’ said the DI, heading off into the heart of the station.
DS Pearce made as if he were about to follow her. Vogel called him back.
‘Just a minute, detective sergeant,’ he said, his voice conversational. ‘I’d like to know who you thought you were talking to a minute ago?’
The DS didn’t seem to know quite what to say.
‘Umm, I don’t know what you mean, sir,’ he stumbled.
‘Yes, you do, DS Pearce,’ said Vogel, who now sounded thoroughly steely. ‘And if I ever again hear you speaking to a senior officer like that, particularly a senior officer who is a key member of my team, I will have you back in uniform in a thrice. And as a PC. Do we understand each other?’
‘Uh, yes, sir, s-sorry sir,’ stumbled Pearce.
‘Good,’ said Vogel, turning his back on the man and addressing Saslow directly. ‘Right, let’s get stuck in then, shall we?’ he said.
‘You bet, boss,’ responded Saslow, aware that she must sound like a schoolgirl.
Vogel had surprised her yet again, just when she’d worked with him so long and in so many varied and stressful situations that she really thought he could no longer do that. She had yet to hear him ever pull rank on his own behalf. He was the kind of man who didn’t need to. And she’d never before heard him pull rank on anyone else’s behalf either. It had been a salutary experience.
She was just glad she hadn’t been on the receiving end.
Just before noon a young DC, with a mop of very black hair and a thin pale face rather well suited to his worried expression, which somehow looked as if it might be permanent, approached Vogel.
‘Ricky Perkins, sir,’ he said. ‘There’s been a development you should know about.’
Vogel glanced up from his laptop.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Yes, boss. Forensics have been on. They’ve checked out the rope Jane Ferguson was found hanged from and it’s a line off her husband’s boat. Almost certainly, they say. Covered in his prints. Few others, as well, but... ’
‘But no prints from Jane Ferguson, is that what you’re about to tell me?’ queried Vogel.
‘Absolutely right, boss, none at all, apparently.’
Vogel turned to Saslow.
‘Which effectively rules out suicide once and for all, and points the finger even more at our Felix. Doesn’t sort out the little matter of his cast-iron alibi, though, does it?’
‘Ah, but there’s something else, boss,’ the DC continued, sounding just a tad triumphalist. ‘The team doing door-to-door in the area all around the crime scene came across this man who was out walking his dog on Saturday night.’
Perkins looked down at his notebook.
‘A John Willis. He saw Felix turning into Estuary Vista Close just after ten thirty p.m.—’
‘He did what?’ interrupted Vogel, who felt as if an electric shock had just passed through his body. ‘Is he sure of that?’
‘Apparently so, boss.’
‘Did he speak to Felix?’
‘No. He said he was on the other side of the road and seemed to be in a hurry, walking fast, looking straight ahead. But he knows Felix quite well by sight, lives just up the hill.’
‘It would have been dark, though, and there’s no street lighting in Estuary Vista Close.’
‘Not in the close itself, but there are lights on the road it turns off. New Road it’s called. And it was there that this Willis saw him. On the corner.’
‘And is Mr Willis also sure of the time?’
‘Yes, boss, says he always takes his dog out for a few minutes at half past ten, just before going to bed. And the team who talked to him said he seemed a reliable sort, too.’
Vogel looked at Saslow.
‘Well, that little lot seems to point to our principle person of interest right enough, doesn’t it, Dawn?’ he began.
Then his mobile rang. Vogel glanced at the screen before answering.
‘Yes, Nobby,’ he said. ‘I think I know why you’re calling.’
‘You’ve heard about the latest forensics report and the new witness, I presume?’
For once the detective super clearly had no time for banter or small talk.
‘Indeed I have,’ said Vogel.
‘Right. So what are you planning to do about it?’
‘Well, I’ve not really had time to formulate a plan yet,’ admitted Vogel. ‘But I definitely think, first off, Saslow and I should now interview Felix Ferguson formally.’
There was a brief pause at the other end of the line.
‘You need to do a bit more than that, Vogel,’ responded Clarke eventually. ‘I want Ferguson arrested on suspicion of the murder of his wife. Straight away.’