‘I didn’t kill them.’
‘You know Tim Sheringham?’
‘Are you asking my client or telling him?’ Monica Have eyed Hennessey with a gimlet-like gaze.
Hennessey paused. ‘Do you know Tim Sheringham, he of Sheringham’s Gym?’
‘Aye, I do.’
‘Well?’
‘We have a beer occasionally. Nothing more than that.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
‘Do you use anabolic steroids to build your body?’
‘No. I don’t need to.’
‘Tim Sheringham’s in the frame for this as well.’
‘This?’ Monica Have said, without looking at anybody.
‘The double murder of Mr and Mrs Williams.’
‘Thank you, Chief Inspector.’
‘Tim Sheringham’s in the frame for the double murder of Mr and Mrs Williams as well as you, Mr Richardson.’
‘So go and give him a hard time.’
‘You both have motive, you both know each other, you’re both strong men, well able to dig the grave in which the bodies were found in the time you had to dig it in, and neither of you have an alibi.’
‘So?’
‘And the house, the murder scene was cleaned thoroughly, painstakingly. As if by a woman.’
Richardson’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you saying?’
‘What I’m saying, Mr Richardson, is that with your anger towards Williams, and with Tim Sheringham’s double motivation which you may or may not be fully aware of, fuelled with a little alcohol, feeding and reinforcing each other, you visited the Williamses’ house, where you battered them to death, and later, the following night, you buried their bodies in a field, close to their house. Didn’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Then you got your wife to clean up the mess.’
‘No!’ Richardson stood up. Yellich did the same ‘You leave my wife out of this.’
‘Out of what?’
‘This!’ Richardson sank back into his chair. ‘My life is ruined, without this. I don’t need to make it worse by serving life for murder. I don’t want my wife’s life ruined. She’s done nothing to deserve this.’
‘But you have. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘No. No, I haven’t.’
‘Chief Inspector.’ Monica Have spoke slowly. ‘I have to insist that now you either charge my client with the double murder of Mr and Mrs Williams, or you discharge him from custody pending further enquiries. You have no evidence on which to hold him, and in the absence of a confession, I have to say that your only option is that of the latter.’
Hennessey sat back in his chair, glanced at Yellich, who raised his eyebrows. He then said, ‘This interview is terminated at…10.45 a.m.’ He switched off the tape recorder.
The red recording light faded. He took one of the cassettes and placed it in the case and handed it to Monica Have.
Bravado.
Smug. Well turned out, muscular, handsome, smiling, holding eye contact, but inside, Hennessey knew, inside Tim Sheringham was shaking like a leaf.
The twin spools of the tape recorder spun slowly. The duty solicitor turned to Hennessey as if to say, ‘A pause is a pause but this has gone on too long.’
Hennessey, undeterred by whatever the duty solicitor might think, had to concede that Sheringham was bearing up well, standing up to questioning, hard questioning, very well. Very well indeed. He’d been here before, he knew the value of not saying anything he didn’t have to say.
‘You murdered Max Williams because he was pulling out of a drug deal he was financing, and threatening to inform on you.’
‘Did I?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘No.’
Another pause. Beside him, Hennessey felt Yellich stiffen and then relax.
‘Mr McCarty informs me otherwise.’
‘Mr who?’
‘Mr McCarty. Sergeant McCarty, Drug Squad.’
‘Oh yes…’ Sheringham smiled. ‘I remember him now.’
‘I bet you do,’ Hennessey growled, fighting back a growing dislike for Sheringham. ‘Have quite a motivation, have you not?’
‘Have I? Not?’
The duty solicitor, a small, bespectacled man who had given his name as Fee, and who Hennessey had not met before, glanced at Hennessey but said nothing.
‘You were having an affair with Mrs Williams, she threatened to inform your wife of that and she had photographs that compromised you. And he, well, he had information which could jail you and he was going to spill, he’d already been interviewed by the Drug Squad, and he was going to go along with a sting operation and you found out, or you suspected, and so you bumped them off.’
‘Could you be more specific, please?’ asked Fee.
‘So you murdered them. Two birds with one stone.’
‘Did I?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Then you cleaned the mess up, but not well enough, didn’t get little specks of blood up from under the carpet.’
Sheringham remained silent. Smiling.
‘Then you put them in a shallow grave.’
‘Did I?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘No. In fact, no, I didn’t.’
‘But you benefited from their murder.’
‘Well, yes.’ Sheringham pursed his lips. ‘Yes, I have. My marriage may well survive now, for one.’
‘And for two, Mr McCarty of the Drug Squad won’t be obtaining the major conviction he was anticipating.’
‘No comment.’
‘You know with that anabolic steroid stunt you seem to have skated on very thin ice and got away with it.’
Sheringham raised his eyebrows.
‘But murder. Double murder is a different matter. Not so easy to wriggle out of this one, especially because we can link you with both victims. Not only that, but we can link you with a motivation to murder both victims.’ Sheringham shrugged.
‘Tell me about your relationship with Michael Richardson.’
‘He’s a mate. Not close. Met at the gym. We have a beer together once or twice a month.’
‘That’s all?’
‘That’s all.’
‘You see, he had a grudge against Williams.’
‘I know. He told me. But it was his fault, he should have had money lodged with a solicitor, but he thought Williams’s reputation as a man with a bottomless money bag was safe enough. He won’t make that mistake again.’
‘Two of you together, you with a strong motivation to murder both Mr and Mrs Williams and he with a grudge.
After a few pints, feeding into each other…then you took turns to do the digging of the grave…two strong blokes, easy work Sheringham shook his head whilst smiling in a classically patronizing gesture which Hennessey felt was calculated to provoke him into violence. He was forced to concede that Sheringham’s ploy very nearly worked. He counted slowly and silently to ten. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘Mrs Richardson cleaned up.’
Sheringham remained silent.
‘She’s a lazy woman.’
‘Who?’
‘Michael Richardson’s wife. I’ve never been in her home, but Mick’s forever complaining about it, fag ash everywhere. I tell you, if I did want someone to clean up after a murder, it wouldn’t be Mrs Richardson.’
Hennessey glanced at Yellich, who nodded.
‘You see,’ Sheringham smiled. ‘You can’t make a case, because there is no case to make. Yes, all right, I have benefited from the murder, hers anyway, it’s a neat and an unexpected solution, but that doesn’t mean to say I murdered them. I didn’t.’
‘Chief Inspector Hennessey.’ Fee spoke slowly. ‘I have to move that you now either charge my client or release him from custody pending further enquiries.’
A pause.
The twin spools spun.
Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Hennessey said, ‘This interview is concluded at eleven-fifty-five a.m.’ He switched the machine off and the red light faded.
Hennessey left the interview room and walked down the corridor towards his office and then stopped in his tracks, as if he had received a blow to the stomach. He remained motionless. Then he recommenced walking.