Vogel had no doubt he shouldn’t have said that. Again he hadn’t been able to help himself.
‘But you know I didn’t, don’t you? You know where I was at the time he died. You know I couldn’t have done it.’
‘So it would seem, Gill. I wonder, though, do you have any idea who might have killed your husband.’
‘Me? No. Of course not. How could I?’
‘Well, did Thomas have any enemies?’
‘He would certainly have crossed a few people in business over the years, he was that sort, and I got the impression there were some pretty angry business associates out there at the moment. I told you, those phone calls. But I can’t think that there would be anyone who would want to kill him.’
‘What about Wynne Williams?’
‘Wynne? Good God. You’ve met him. Wynne wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘He’s besotted with you, Gill. It’s amazing what people will do, the lengths to which they will go when they are in love. Mr Williams actually told us he would do anything for you...’
Greg, followed by Saslow, re-entered carrying a tray with four mugs on it and a bowl of sugar.
‘What’s this about Wynne Williams?’ he asked.
‘Mr Vogel thinks Wynne might have killed your father, and that I may have helped him do it, or perhaps that he did it just because he thought I wanted your father dead,’ said Gill bluntly.
She was suddenly beginning to sound considerably more on the ball. Indeed quite sharp. Vogel could for the first time imagine her holding down a senior teaching and admin job. The miracle of sleep, he thought, not for the first time.
‘What?’ said Greg, looking and sounding perplexed. ‘I mean, why?’
‘Because, Greg, Mr Williams is in love with your mother,’ said Vogel.
He too could be blunt, when he thought it might be to his advantage.
‘And he was aware of your father’s abusive behaviour towards her,’ Vogel added.
‘Mum?’ Greg queried, sounding astonished. ‘Are you having an affair with Mr Williams?’
‘No, I’m not. Your father thought so though. Or at least, he said he did. Sometimes I thought that might be an excuse for...’ She paused. ‘For what he did to me.’
‘So is that why Dad went for you on Friday night?’
‘Yes. He caught us in the pub together.’
‘You went out with him?’
‘It wasn’t “going out”. Not like that. Not for me, anyway.’
‘But you told him what Dad did to you. And you never told me.’
‘I didn’t tell him the half of it. Anyway, I’ve explained that. You’re my son. I didn’t want you to be affected by it all.’
‘Well, I am now, aren’t I? I’d have made you leave him, Mum, I’d have taken care of you. None of this would have happened if only you’d told me...’
Greg’s voice tailed away. His eyes had filled with tears.
‘I wanted to protect you from it,’ said Gill.
‘I wish you hadn’t.’
Vogel stepped in then.
‘Greg you lived at home until you were seventeen, with both your parents, you have continued to see your mother frequently, to spend as much time as possible with her. Did you really not know about your father’s violence towards her?’
‘No, I didn’t. I swear. Upon my life. I knew he was controlling, and unkind. But I never imagined for a moment anything like I’ve seen today. I had no idea. If I had known, I’d have done something about it.’
Maybe he had done something about it, thought the DCI. He did not voice his thoughts though. He would save that for a formal interview. And, ideally, he would like to have at least some evidence first. Could it be possible, he wondered, that the young man really hadn’t known about Thomas’ physically abusive behaviour? Or was he acting?
‘Yet you moved out of the family home when you were so young,’ Vogel continued eventually. ‘If you didn’t know what your father was doing to your mother, why was that?’
‘We didn’t get on. I told you that before. And he tried to control me too. To make me do what he wanted, not what I wanted. I wasn’t going to have it.’
‘You had a privileged education, you could have gone on to university, taken up a profession, anything. Yet you gave it all up, left school with no qualifications, I understand, and walked away from both your mother and your father—’
‘I didn’t walk away from my mother, and I never would, she knows that,’ interrupted Greg. ‘And I did have a few GCSEs. But I wasn’t an academic, that’s for sure. I always liked working with my hands, making things. I’d already worked for Durrants in the school holidays. Mike Durrant took a shine to me, he offered to take me on as an apprentice. He fixed me up with digs too.’
‘Greg’s always been independent, and a hard worker,’ said Gill, suddenly every inch the proud mother. ‘He’s done well for himself, too, I always knew he would.’
Vogel was just considering whether he should continue with this line of questioning, or whether he should save it for the inevitable formal interview, when his phone rang. It was DI Peters, calling from the incident room.
Vogel excused himself and stepped out into the hall.
‘Boss, we’ve just had a report of a disturbance in Tide Reach, that new building on The Pill,’ she began.
Momentarily Vogel wondered why she was telling him that, but he kept quiet. There was sure to be a very good reason. He had developed a considerable respect for Janet Peters.
‘Thing is, boss, that’s where Thomas Quinn’s company have their offices,’ the DI continued, immediately offering an explanation for her call, just as Vogel had expected. ‘And the chap who called in heard what he thought could have been gunfire. Tide Reach is mostly made up of offices, so you’d expect them to be empty on a Sunday, but there are two apartments at the top of the building, and our caller lives in one of them. He’s been told to stay put until we’ve checked the place out. The other apartment is unoccupied, apparently.’
Vogel experienced the familiar frisson of excitement he always felt when he suddenly learned something that might be of significant import in a case. This time it was accompanied by the merest tremor of fear. He’d been told there may have been gunfire. And Vogel didn’t like guns.
‘Has anyone tried to contact Thomas’ business partner again?’ he asked.
‘Jason Patel? You and Saslow were on your way to see him, weren’t you?’
‘Yes. But we haven’t got to him yet. We’re at Greg Quinn’s place. You could try him on the phone.’
‘Will do, boss.’
‘Are first responders on the way?’
‘Yes, boss. Ambulance and armed response too, just in case. As there might be guns involved, we’re taking no chances.’
Vogel had already learned enough about North Devon to have a reasonable grasp of logistics.
‘We’re fifteen minutes away,’ he said. ‘Will attend.’
Twenty-Two
Lilian lay for hours on the concrete bed unable to sleep, and in any case fearing that if she did her troubled head would be invaded by another nightmare. The blanket she’d wrapped herself in smelt strongly of disinfectant. After a bit she didn’t notice.
She must have eventually fallen into a fitful, although mercifully nightmare-less, sleep. She was woken by the rattle of the lock to her cell as they bought her tea and a pre-packed breakfast at seven a.m.
Two hours or so later they came for her again and took her back to the same interview room where she had spent most of the previous day.
This time DS McDermott was sitting at the table waiting for her, a sheaf of papers stacked tidily before him.
‘You may be interested to know that your husband’s condition is improving rapidly and that he is expected to make a full recovery, Mrs St John,’ the DS began.