According to Gail, it was the one and only time she’d slept with Sam. It hadn’t exactly been a match made in Heaven. Just a bit of a laugh, really. The two of them had been flirting for a while. When he’d rung to commiserate over her sprained ankle and asked if she’d like him to kiss it better, she’d said it was the best offer she’d had in ages. Probably he fancied a slice of what his dad had been having, but Gail wasn’t bothered about his motives. She knew too much about men to entertain illusions. As a lover, the son didn’t compare to the father. Youth and virility were all very well, but no match for experience, in her book.
The three-way alibi was Tina’s idea. Neither Tina nor Kirsty knew what Sam had been up to and at first he refused to say. They panicked out of fear that his tense relationship with Warren might make him a suspect. Only later did it strike Gail that, just as Tina had persuaded Sam to lie about his whereabouts, so she might have inveigled Kirsty into shielding her from a murder charge.
‘Gail sent us the note about Tina, didn’t she?’
‘Racing certainty,’ Hannah said. ‘Not that we can prove it.’
‘God, she’s a bitch.’
All of a sudden, and against all logic, Hannah felt sympathy stabbing at her.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But a very unhappy bitch.’
Linz’s brow creased in disapproval — keen young DCs didn’t do sympathy. She’d learn. They drove on for a few minutes until Linz broke the silence.
‘On the radio this morning, the forecaster said that humidity levels have never been so high in this country. I’m sweating like a pig.’
‘They’ve promised a storm before the end of today.’
‘Can’t come a moment too soon, as far as I’m concerned. All right, ma’am, where do we go from here?’
‘To Old Sawrey. Time for another word with Tina Howe.’
‘Gail Flint? Gail Flint?’
If Hannah had accused her son of having had his wicked way with the late Myra Hindley, Tina Howe might have been more relaxed. Gail Flint? This was sleeping with the enemy.
‘The bastard told me she was a tourist from Sweden. Just passing through on her way to Scotland, that’s why she wasn’t around to back up his story. And you’re telling me it was that hatchet-tongued lush! A natural blonde, he said!’
Natural? At least a sense of irony must lurk beneath Sam’s sullen exterior. Hannah asked when he would be back and Tina spread her arms.
‘He’s supposed to be working, but he’s just as likely to be propping up some bar or having a leg-over with some scrubber in a caravan park. He doesn’t bother about keeping appointments. We’re trying to keep going as best we can after — what happened to poor Kirsty, but he isn’t helping. We’ve had loads of complaints, haven’t we, Peter?’
Peter Flint gave a nervous cough of assent. The four of them were in his office; this was his domain, but he’d hardly uttered a word since their arrival. His bony frame was squashed up in his chair and Hannah supposed this was how he’d managed to stay married to Gail for so many years. When the going got tough, he pretended to be invisible.
Tina shook her head. ‘There’s only one thing that lad seems to care about, and it isn’t his work, I can tell you. He takes after Warren, and he won’t pay attention to what I say any more. Just like his dad.’
‘We’ll talk to Sam later.’
Tina put her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. ‘Go on, then. Who told you this?’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Howe, we can’t…’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be Sam, would it?’ Tina’s voice rose. ‘Not exactly something to boast about, having it off with Ms Nip and Tuck. It was her, wasn’t it? That reconstructed cow.’
‘You’ll appreciate the implications of the information we’ve received,’ Hannah said. ‘You and your children maintained that you were together when your husband was killed. If your son was — otherwise engaged — then the question is obvious. Were you with Kirsty at all?’
‘How do you think we managed to take the fucking photographs?’ Tina was almost screeching.
‘Photographs?’ Hannah shrugged. ‘Of course, in this day and age, all kinds of technological jiggery-pokery is possible. Isn’t that right, DC Waller?’
Linz nodded sagely. ‘Dead right, ma’am.’
‘For Christ’s sake, we were there! Up at the old Roman fort, on the Hardknott Pass, just as we said!’
Hannah felt a surge of triumph. She’s losing it.
‘Who precisely was there?’
Tina swallowed. ‘OK, let’s just assume that Sam didn’t come along that day. What does it prove?’
‘You’re going to tell me you’re still protected by Kirsty’s statement, that she was with you all the time?’ Hannah turned to Linz. ‘Any thoughts?’
‘Trouble is, ma’am, Kirsty’s not here to corroborate the story any more.’
Tina said in a low voice, ‘My daughter died two days ago, Chief Inspector.’
‘I was there, Mrs Howe.’
A bitten-off laugh. ‘Yeah, I remember you puking your guts out.’
‘Tina!’ Peter Flint’s tone was despairing rather than authoritative. ‘I know you’re upset…’
Tina turned on him, crimson with anger. ‘That bloody old sow Gail, you’ve always let her walk all over you. All those years you were married, and now you’re paying through the nose for the privilege of divorcing her. You’ve let her get away with murder.’
Hannah said, ‘One thing is for sure, Mrs Howe. For years someone did just that. They got away with your husband’s murder.’
‘Seems like you’re no nearer to finding out who did it than on the day he died.’
The horsy face crumpled and Tina Howe started to weep. All of a sudden, her whole body was convulsing. As they watched, she wailed and beat down on the table with her hands. Linz put out a hand to her, but Tina shoved it back. Hannah’s surge of triumph ebbed away as Peter Flint got to his feet. He went over and wrapped his arms around Tina, murmuring words of comfort. But it was no use. She would not be stilled, could not be silenced.
Peter treated Hannah to a glare of reproach. Christ, she thought, I deserve it.
Grief had deadened her own emotions. Burying herself in the cold case worked as a means of coping. But it didn’t give her the right to torment a woman who had watched her own daughter plunge to her death a couple of days ago. Even if that woman had killed the girl’s father by cutting him up with a scythe.
‘You think she’s guilty, ma’am?’ Linz asked as they drove into the car park at Headquarters.
Hannah had spent the journey swathed in gloom as she weighed up that very question. ‘I suppose she’s still my prime suspect.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘What do you think?’
Linz took a breath. ‘How about Peter Flint?’
‘Why him?’
‘Humiliating enough if your wife shags your business partner. How must it feel if she seduces the same bloke’s son for good measure?’
‘Isn’t that a reason for murdering your wife rather than your business partner?’
‘But he wanted her back. Must have done. This was before he and Tina got it together, don’t forget. And what if Warren encouraged Sam to take a turn with Gail? If Peter realised, wouldn’t he want to take revenge?’
Hannah locked the car and led the way inside the main building. At length she said, ‘Of course, it’s possible. But you saw how his jaw hit the floor when I told them about Sam and Gail? I’d say he was even more shocked than Tina. If he knew beforehand, he’s the next Olivier.’
They turned a corner and saw Nick and Les Bryant striding down the corridor towards them. Les grunted at the sight of Hannah and said, ‘Nasty business at that airfield, by all accounts. Messy. I heard you’d been signed off for a week.’
‘I have amazing powers of recovery.’
‘You reckon?’
‘We’ve had a busy morning.’
‘Fresh developments in the Warren Howe case?’
‘Have we got news for you. Come to my office: Linz will debrief you.’