‘Smelled a rat?’ Batchelor asked.
Belling glanced at his solicitor, who gave him a nod of encouragement. ‘I don’t know if you’ve ever bought a second-hand car, detective, perhaps your police salaries are so high you don’t need to?’
‘I wish,’ Batchelor said.
Darling and his solicitor both gave fleeting smiles. ‘Yeah, well in all my past experience, vendors negotiate. I offered what I thought was a ridiculously low price, expecting her to come back with a counter — perhaps three-two. But she didn’t. She just said, fine, she’d accept £2,800. I asked her how quickly we could complete the transaction — I wanted to get the car valeted, and then put it outside our house, with a ribbon around it and some flowers in the boot, so my wife would be blown away on her birthday. She said I could take the car away just as soon as she received payment and she sent me her PayPal details. So that’s what I did, the following day. I told her the payment had gone through, then the bitch told me she’d not received any money. She was lying.’
His body language was consistent with someone telling the truth, Grace thought.
‘What happened then?’ he asked.
‘We’d agreed I would collect the car last Saturday morning. I had made payment in full through eBay’s checkout page into her PayPal account on the Thursday — the one she had given me. The money should have been there instantly, but she denied all knowledge of receiving it, the bloody thieving bitch.’
‘The Economic Crime Unit think you may have been a victim of online fraud,’ Grace said. ‘Did you consider that?’
‘Yes. Yes, I checked, of course, right away, with PayPal. They told me there was no such account, the details she had given me were not for a PayPal account.’
Batchelor frowned. ‘What account were they for?’
‘I still haven’t found out. She was a bloody scam artist. Instead of arresting me and locking me up, perhaps you’d like to go and recover my sodding money for me, so I can do something nice for my dying wife?’
Still watching him closely, Grace asked, ‘Would you like to tell us your feelings about Lorna Belling?’
Doris Ishack raised a warning hand and leaned over to her client. Belling nodded, then answered, once more his eyes moving left, first. ‘I’ve just told you, she was a con artist.’
‘What makes you feel it’s her who was the con artist and that you’ve both not been a victim of cybercrime fraud?’ Grace went on.
‘How would you feel if you were in my position, detective? You’ve just paid out more money than you can afford, and you find out you’ve been screwed. Go on, how would that make you feel?’
Privately, Grace considered that perhaps Darling knew he had been conned but had thought he might bully or frighten Lorna Belling into handing over the car — given the man’s track record of violence. But he would leave that one for the prosecution counsel, if it came to court.
‘Angry enough to kill that person?’ Grace tested.
‘That’s a leading question, Detective Superintendent,’ the solicitor interjected.
The two detectives sat whilst Darling and Ishack conferred in whispers. Then, with an irritatingly smug expression, Darling said, ‘No comment.’
Grace leaned forward and pressed a button on the recording control in front of him. ‘Interview suspended at 9.20 a.m.’
46
Sunday 24 April
Grace, followed by Batchelor, stepped out of the interview room, closing the door behind them.
‘What do you think, boss?’ Batchelor asked in the corridor.
‘We know there’s been a spate of frauds around PayPal recently,’ Grace replied. ‘Mick Richards at the Economic Crimes Unit briefed me on it yesterday. Mainly Romanians involved. They bring homeless people over here, give them a chunk of change, get them to open bank accounts then send them home with a nice lump sum. They track eBay and Gumtree transactions, spot a transaction such as this one with Lorna Belling’s car, upload malware and give the purchaser a fake PayPal account number. The purchaser — in this case Mr Darling — pays the money in and, whoosh, it’s gone. Washed through an account and immediately transferred abroad. All his body language says he’s telling the truth about the purchase. He’s a victim of cybercrime fraud, in my view.’
‘Where does that leave us?’
‘With one very angry man.’
‘Angry enough to kill her? Judging from his past form?’
‘Let’s go back in and see what we can find out.’
They entered the interview room again and sat back down.
Pressing the record button on the control unit, Roy Grace said, ‘Interview with Seymour Rodney Darling recommenced at 9.25 a.m.’ He turned to the suspect and reminded him he was still under caution, then continued. ‘Mr Darling, can you tell us where you were on the afternoon and evening of Wednesday, April 20th?’
Darling’s eyes went to his left. That indicated to Grace the man was constructing a lie. ‘I was working that day. In the afternoon I went to measure up for a fencing quote for a customer in Hurstpierpoint.’
‘Can you let me have the customer’s name and address?’
Hesitantly. ‘Yes. Stuart Dwyer — at West Point Lodge, Church Lane.’
‘Mr Dwyer could verify that?’ Grace asked.
Hesitantly again. ‘Yes.’
‘And after that?’
‘I went home. The wife and I had a row.’ He shrugged, seeing the intent stares of the two detectives. ‘The medications she’s on make her very edgy. I went out, took the dog for a long walk.’
‘Where?’
‘Up on the Downs.’
‘Did anyone see you — could anyone verify that, Mr Darling?’ Batchelor asked.
‘I didn’t see anyone.’
‘What time did you leave the house and return?’ Grace watched his face intently.
‘I left about five — I got back around nine p.m.’
‘A four-hour walk?’
‘I often go for long walks.’
Grace noticed how uncomfortable he looked. ‘Do you and your wife row frequently?’
‘We rowed all the time before her diagnosis. I’ve been trying to be understanding since. But —’ He fell silent.
‘But?’ Batchelor prompted.
Darling looked each of them in the eye, in turn. ‘Just because someone has terminal cancer, it doesn’t mean they’re any less of a fucking bitch than they were before.’
Doris Ishack gave him a cautioning stare, then turned to the detectives. ‘You need to understand my client is under a lot of stress at the moment.’
‘I imagine Lorna Belling found being murdered quite stressful, too,’ Grace retorted. He looked at Darling. ‘I am very sorry to hear about your wife’s circumstances.’
‘Is that right?’ Darling said, bitterly. ‘Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you are going to lose your wife?’
‘I can only try to imagine.’
‘Then try a bit sodding harder.’
Ignoring this last outburst, Grace said, ‘I’d like you to think back to Wednesday night very hard. Are you absolutely sure you went straight home after your walk on the Downs?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was the route you took on this walk?’
‘Is this relevant?’ the solicitor asked.
‘It is.’ Grace looked at Darling.
‘From where we live, it’s a few minutes to the tracks of the old railway line that used to run from Aldrington Halt up to the Dyke. I took the dog there — it’s a safe place to let him off the lead.’
‘I used to live in Hangleton some years ago,’ Grace said. ‘I know that route. You walk through beautiful countryside, with great views on a fine day to the south, of Brighton and Hove and Shoreham.’