Paternoster looked at his solicitor, then up at the ceiling and around at the walls. ‘Two sacks of litter?’
‘Correct,’ Potting said. ‘Two large sacks of Tesco Lightweight ten-litre cat litter — several weeks’ supply for a normal household cat.’
Paternoster ran his hands through his hair. Then he said, ‘All I can think of is that Eden must have bought the stuff in Tesco after I dropped her off, and someone she met in the store drove her home.’
‘Pause it again,’ Grace said.
Branson hit the button, freezing the image again, and looked at Grace, then at the screen.
‘He’s holding eye contact,’ Grace said. ‘His blink rate is steady; he’s not covering his mouth or throat.’ He shrugged. ‘None of these things is conclusive, he could just be a bloody good actor. If he had been planning to murder her for some while, he might have looked up on the internet all the signs of a liar, knowing that when the police interviewed him, they’d be looking at his body language.’
‘So you’re saying he’s either innocent — or smarter than we’re giving him credit for, boss?’
‘Bearing in mind his business partner vanished overboard while they were sailing off Perth in Western Australia, do we have a repeat pattern here?’
‘Want me to fly out to Perth to talk to the police there?’
‘Sure, ask Cassian Pewe to sanction your ticket. Tell him you need to fly Business or maybe even First so you’re fresh when you arrive.’
Branson looked at him, for a moment wondering if he was being serious, then wised up. ‘Maybe you should ask him on my behalf, boss?’
Grace pointed to his neck with his forefinger. ‘You know what? I prefer to keep this attached to my head.’
Branson smiled. ‘So we have a potential history here of our friend, Paternoster, dispatching someone with no trace — you think?’
‘I’m suggesting the mantra of all experienced financial investigators, Glenn. Follow the money.’
Branson nodded. ‘OK, so what we know is that Niall Paternoster is struggling, with a failed business, and making a small living as a taxi journeyman, driving a mate’s taxi during unsociable hours. After returning to the UK from Australia he met, charmed and married Eden, who — maybe coincidentally — has a house worth over half a million quid, plus a fair stash of cash. And now he’s offed her? Am I on the right track?’
Grace nodded. ‘That’s how the evidence is looking.’
‘Apart from his body language, boss?’
‘Apart from that — which we know is only an indication,’ he replied, then continued, ‘We made the decision as part of our interview strategy not to ask him specific questions about what has been found at Ashdown Forest. They’re still searching there and we’re waiting for DNA results. He already said in interview that he didn’t leave the house in the early hours of Friday morning, but we know the BMW was at the forest. The camera images don’t help us as to who was driving. We can ask him questions in due course and he may not pick up about the police search activity there. You never know, he may return to that area and with any luck our people will be behind him. So let’s summarize what we have so far in addition to that evidence.’
‘OK,’ Branson said. ‘Three key issues.’ He raised a finger in the air. ‘First, we’ve established he may be lying about the cat litter and the photograph.’ He added a second finger. ‘The forensics against him at the house don’t look good.’ He raised a third. ‘He has a motive, but now we have the potential sighting of Eden, his wife, on the Isle of Wight hovercraft.’
‘Your priority,’ Grace said, ‘is that sighting. Throw everything at it.’
‘We always get loads of sightings of mispers, and 99.9 per cent of the time they turn out to be wrong,’ Branson said.
‘I’d be happier if we’d seen Paternoster clearly lying just now, but we didn’t. It would help us move forward one way or the other to either verify or dismiss that sighting PDQ.’
‘Understood.’
‘In the meantime, see if we can organize a surveillance team. Regardless of the possible sighting, I want Paternoster watched from the moment we release him. Killers often behave suspiciously or return to the deposition site, either out of some macabre curiosity or to make sure the site hasn’t been disturbed.’
‘Understood and will try.’
There were only two Surveillance Teams these days, and they worked with both Sussex and Surrey police forces. And they were kept busy. Both detectives knew they’d be lucky to get one.
Grace stood up. ‘OK, I’m going to go out to my car, for privacy, and call Cleo. I think I’m ready.’
Branson took his hand in his and crushed it. ‘Good luck, mate. I’m thinking of you all.’
Grace turned away, unable to face him, not wanting him to see his tears again.
63
Niall Paternoster sat in the front passenger seat of the Skoda Superb taxi owned by his pal, Mark Tuckwell, as they drove out through the gates of the Brighton custody centre. It was 11.15 a.m.
‘Been a bad boy, have you?’ Tuckwell, a relaxed, good-natured man of thirty-five, jested.
‘That’s not funny — I don’t know what’s going on. They reckon I’ve offed Eden.’
‘And have you?’
‘Do I look like a murderer?’
Tuckwell was nonplussed. ‘Did Dr Harold Shipman or Ted Bundy?’
‘Thanks a lot, mate. Thought I might count on you for a bit of sympathy.’
‘Not if I’m driving a fugitive from justice!’
‘You are not driving a bloody fugitive.’
‘So what’s happened, talk me through it.’ Tuckwell grinned. ‘What weapon did you use?’
‘I’m not in a mood for joking, really I’m not, all right? Two sleepless nights in a cell — Jesus — I’m not surprised people confess to shit they haven’t done, just to get it over with. So, OK, right, Sunday we go out for a drive — Eden and me — we both like going to stately homes — National Trust places, that kind of thing. It’s something to do — and something to dream about, right?’
‘Dream about their heating bills and the cost of their roof repairs, you mean?’
Paternoster tutted. ‘We actually have the vision to look beyond that. When we go to these places, I’m looking for ideas, inspiration, right? I want inspiration for the kind of house I’m going to buy when my new business comes good and my first million rolls in.’
‘So until then, when are you going to open 507 Nevill Road to the public? Will you be serving cream teas? What attractions will you have in the grounds — a safari park?’
‘Haha.’
Paternoster stared for some moments through the windscreen, appreciating his freedom; appreciating being away from the confines and tedium of his cell and from feeling, in just that brief time, almost immediately institutionalized. It was a fine day. He’d barely seen any daylight since Monday.
‘You’ve got a nice back garden — maybe make it a dinosaur theme park?’
‘Will you stop this? I’m in serious crap, Mark, OK? I need your wisdom, not your rubbish humour. Seriously. Please?’
Tuckwell braked as they joined the rear of a queue of traffic on the slip road. He shook his head. ‘Tell you what, how long have we known each other?’
‘Since Year Ten?’
‘Pretty much — so — over twenty years. In all that time, all you’ve ever done is dream, you’re always wanting something more, something better than you have.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘What’s wrong is you don’t know when to stop, Niall. You’ve got a lovely wife in Eden, but I’m guessing she’s not enough; you’ve got a nice house — for a lot of people it would be a dream home — but you want something way bigger.’ He paused. ‘You know what I learned a long time ago?’