Geare is silent.
‘It would be especially important to know if there’d been any incidents with young women – any suggestion of sexual harassment. Or –’
‘Or interfering with the children?’ He’s shaking his head. ‘Absolutely not. The only reason I wasn’t saying anything was because I was wondering how best to put it, that’s all. Donald Walsh is a difficult man. A bit brusque on occasion. I often wonder why he went into teaching at all given that he clearly doesn’t like children. All that irony – he’d no doubt call it wit but the kids just think he’s being sarky. It makes them wary of him, so he struggles to build rapport. He’s not much good at being part of a team either. Not “collegiate”. That’s a Donald word by the way. Personally, I’d just say “friendly”.’
There’s a knock on the door and the secretary puts her head round. ‘Mr Geare, your appointment has arrived.’
Somer gets up and shakes his hand. ‘Thank you. If anything else occurs to you that you think we should know, please get in touch.’
*
Down in the car park, Gislingham is waiting. The PC from Walsh’s office is being loaded into the forensic team’s van.
‘I spoke to some of the teachers as well,’ he says as she gets in the car and closes the door. ‘They don’t like him, but they don’t think he’s actually dodgy.’
‘Richard Geare said the same. Broadly.’
Gislingham looks at her. ‘Richard Geare? Seriously?’
She shakes her head. ‘Poor sod. It must be the first thing everyone says.’
‘So is he?’ asks Gislingham, pulling on his seat belt.
‘Is he what?’
He grins. ‘You know, An Officer and a Gentleman.’
She smiles. ‘If only you knew.’
***
The curtains are open on the first floor of 81 Crescent Square. Robert Gardiner can be seen moving about, talking on his mobile. At one point he stoops suddenly and lifts his son on to his shoulders. Quinn sits watching for a moment, then gets out of his car and walks across the street.
‘Detective Sergeant Quinn,’ he says, when Rob Gardiner opens the door.
Gardiner frowns. ‘What do you want? Has something happened? Have you arrested someone?’
‘For the murder – no. Not yet. It’s your childminder. Pippa?’
Gardiner’s eyes narrow. ‘What about her?’
‘Do you know where she is?’
‘No bloody idea.’
‘Can you give me her number then? You must have it on your phone –’
‘I did but I’ve deleted it. And no, I don’t have it off by heart, sorry.’
‘What about an address for her family?’
‘Nope, don’t have that either.’
‘Really?’ says Quinn, openly sceptical now. ‘She was looking after your child – didn’t you check her out, take references?’
‘Hannah hired her, not me. She met her at that Farmers’ Market on North Parade. At one of the stalls. Pottery or artisan coffee beans or some such. Anyway, they met up a few times after that and she told Hannah she’d been training to be a nanny but the money ran out. Hannah took pity on her and gave her a chance. She was like that. Always seeing the best in people.’ He stares at Quinn with undisguised hostility. ‘What do you want Pippa for, anyway?’
‘Don’t worry,’ says Quinn. ‘It wasn’t that important.’
***
Everett locks her car and walks back up to the Iffley Road; if Vicky was living in a bedsit, this is as good a place to start as any. She has a list of rented properties and the only way forward is to start knocking on doors. Though she has that sinking feeling of looking for a needle in a city-sized haystack.
She consults her map. The first house on the list is in the street opposite. A pile of bikes outside, wheelie bins stuck anyhow across the front garden. She rings the bell and stands, waiting, until the door opens.
‘DC Verity Everett,’ she says, holding up her warrant card. ‘Could I ask you a few questions?’
***
Interview with Robert Gardiner, conducted at St Aldate’s Police Station, Oxford
5 May 2017, 2.44 p.m.
In attendance, DI A. Fawley, DC A. Baxter, P. Rose (solicitor)
AF: Mr Gardiner, thank you for making time to come in. I apologize for the short notice. We wanted to talk to you because we have some additional questions in relation to the death of your wife.
RG: [silence]
AF: Mr Gardiner?
RG: I’m waiting to see what you have to say. I can’t imagine what you could possibly ask that you haven’t already asked me a hundred times over. The answers aren’t going to be any different. But go ahead – knock yourself out.
AF: As you know, we constructed our timeline for that day based on the fact that several witnesses said they saw your wife at Wittenham that morning. We know now they were mistaken. Obviously this means we have to re-question a number of people about where they were. Including you.
RG: So that’s it, is it - you’re going to try to stiff me with this? What about that bloke – Harper, whatever his name is?
AF: We expect to prefer charges shortly in relation to the young woman and child found in the cellar at 33 Frampton Road. We do not, as yet, have any conclusive evidence to suggest there is a connection between those offences and the death of your wife.
RG: So in the absence of any other options you’re going to have another run-up at me, are you? Just like last time?
AF: New information has come to light, Mr Gardiner -
RG: Right, so now you seriously think I killed Hannah? That I abandoned my own son?
AF: I didn’t say that.
RG: You didn’t bloody have to.
AF: Look, we’re trying to find out what happened. And to do that we need your help. Your cooperation.
PR: My client is more than willing to assist you in every reasonable way. Although I take it as read that you are questioning him as a witness, not as a suspect, given that you have not cautioned him?
AF: For the present, yes. So, let’s go over what happened again.
RG: How many more times. I left the flat at 7.15 and caught the 7.57 to Reading –
AF: Not that morning, Mr Gardiner. The night before. Tuesday June 23rd.
RG: But you know Hannah was alive that morning. You don’t even need to take my word for it – you heard her yourself on that voicemail. What difference does it make what happened the night before?
AF: All the same, I’d like you to answer the question.
RG: [sighs]
As far as I remember I collected Toby from the nursery on my way back from work. Must have been about 5.00. So I’d have got home about 5.30. I’d been in a meeting with some German investors most of the day so I was pretty knackered. We just had a quiet night in.
AF: Can anyone corroborate that?
RG: No. Like I said, it was just the three of us. Me, Hannah and Toby.
AF: Your childminder – she wasn’t there with you?
RG: No. She left about 7.00.
AF: Was your wife in when you got back?
RG: No. She didn’t get back till about 8.00.
AF: And how was she?
RG: What does that mean?
AF: Happy? Anxious? Tired?
RG: She was a bit preoccupied I suppose. She had a lot on her mind. The interview the following day – there was a lot riding on it.
AB: The interview at Wittenham? With Malcolm Jervis?