Kill Shot: A Cavendish & Walker Novel - Book 10

by Sally Rigby

  ‘How do you find working with Mrs Marshall? Do you get on well with her? Are there any arguments?’

  ‘I have no complaints. She’s very fair and gives me time off every week. I get paid regularly and always on time. You do hear stories from other nannies, but I’ve got no complaints in that respect.’

  ‘Were you informed about the nanny cams in the rooms?’

  Sue’s mouth dropped open. ‘No, I didn’t know they had them.’

  ‘Does that bother you?’

  ‘No. Well, maybe. Sort of. I should have been told they were going to check up on me.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that defeat the object of the cameras?’

  ‘In a way. But it’s still an invasion of my privacy.’

  Whitney could see her point. Even if she was behaving appropriately and not doing anything wrong, there were still things that a person wouldn’t want others to see them doing.

  ‘How do you get on with Mr Marshall?’

  ‘Um … He …’ She averted her eyes and stared at the table.

  ‘Anything you say will be between us.’

  ‘I don’t want to risk losing my job, but to be honest he gives me the creeps. I don’t like being left alone in the house with him. He’s got this funny way about him where he invades your space. You know, gets in your bubble. I spend all my time stepping away from him.’ She shuddered.

  Not again. Was there any woman out there who was safe in his vicinity?

  ‘Has he tried it on with you?’

  ‘Not exactly. It’s difficult to explain, but I get the feeling that if I made a move, he wouldn’t refuse.’

  ‘Does he act in the same way when Mrs Marshall’s around?’

  Whitney needed to find out if he was like that all the time without it meaning anything. It wouldn’t excuse the behaviour but it would give her some perspective.

  ‘When they’re together, he doesn’t get close to me at all. If anything, he’s always touching Mrs Marshall. Taking hold of her hand. Stroking her shoulder. It was a bit over the top, if you ask me.’

  Interesting.

  ‘I’d like to ask you about Ryan Armstrong, Scott’s friend and business partner, who was recently shot. Did you ever meet him?’

  ‘Yes, he’d often come to the house. He was really nice and always took the time to speak to me. It was such a shock to hear he’d been killed. I really liked him.’

  ‘Did you witness any arguments at all between him and Mr Marshall?’

  She bit down on her bottom lip and glanced upwards. ‘Not arguments as such.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘One time when he was over, I did overhear them having a disagreement over the staff at the snooker club. Mr Armstrong accused Mr Marshall of being too friendly with them and said that some of them didn’t like it.’

  ‘Did it sound as though Mr Marshall was acting towards them in the same way he did with you?’

  ‘It did seem sort of similar, now I come to think of it.’

  ‘Do you know whether Mr Marshall has had any affairs in the past?’

  ‘Recently, I suspected that he was seeing someone when I heard him on the phone. He didn’t realise he could be heard because he was in the garden. But sometimes, if the wind is in the right direction, a voice travels. He was telling this person he’d try to get away and then said he loved them. I knew it couldn’t be Mrs Marshall because she was upstairs working out on her treadmill.’

  ‘Did you tell Mrs Marshall what you’d heard?’

  ‘No way would I do that. It was nothing to do with me. Plus, I didn’t want to risk losing my job, especially as I didn’t know for certain. I could’ve been mistaken.’

  ‘Where were you the early hours of Sunday, March the seventh, the night that Mr Armstrong was shot?’

  ‘I can tell you exactly. I went back to Leamington Spa to see my family. Mrs Marshall went to stay with her parents and I had a weekend off because she didn’t need me.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for you?’

  ‘My parents can. I can give you their number. I took the train on Friday evening, arriving at seven, and then came back first thing Monday morning. My dad picked me up from the station and took me back there.’

  ‘Don’t you have a car?’

  ‘Not one of my own. For work, I use one of the Marshalls’ cars.’

  ‘Is there anything you can think of which might assist in our enquiries into Ryan Armstrong’s shooting?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m sorry. But why are you asking me? Do you suspect Mr Marshall? I couldn’t imagine him doing something like that. They were friends.’

  ‘We’re just covering all bases. Thank you for coming in to see us, you’ve been very helpful. Please remember to keep this interview confidential.’

  Chapter 33

  ‘George, over here.’ She scanned the area and saw Whitney beckoning her over to the station’s front desk, where she was standing with Brian and Clifford.

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it any sooner. Have I missed the interview?’ she said as she approached them.

  ‘No, we’re on our way. I wanted to wait a few minutes to see if you made it. You can join Seb in the observation area.’

  Whitney’s phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and held it to her ear. ‘Walker.’ She nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She ended the call. ‘That was Ellie. She said forensics have been in touch and the gun we found is the murder weapon.’

  ‘That was quick,’ George said.

  ‘They rushed it through. It had been wiped clean, so no prints. That would be too much to expect, but not crucial.’

  Brian pushed open the doors, and they all headed down the corridor to the interview room. George and Clifford split off and went to observe.

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t ask to interview with Whitney, rather than observing with me,’ she said to Clifford once they were seated on the stools looking through the one-way mirror.

  ‘She wanted Brian in with her. Do you think it would have made a difference if I’d asked to be included?’

  ‘Probably not. Once Whitney has made up her mind, it takes a lot to change it. She’s always believed this shooting isn’t connected to your operation, and it appears she might be right.’

  He shrugged. ‘We’ll see. What do you make of the suspect?’

  ‘Look at the tight lines around his eyes and the way he’s pressing his thumbs together in his lap. He’s worried. Extremely so. Whether that’s because he’s guilty, or innocent and scared no one will believe him, is a different matter.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Stop talking, I want to listen to the interview.’ She turned her head away from him and focused on the scene in front of her. She much preferred being on her own so she could concentrate.

  ‘Interview with Scott Marshall resumed,’ Whitney said, after starting the recording equipment. ‘DS Chapman replacing DI Clifford. In addition, we have …’ She nodded at the solicitor.

  ‘Beatrice Bloom, solicitor for Scott Marshall.’

  ‘Mr Marshall, we’d like to discuss in more detail your relationship with Ryan Armstrong.’

  ‘He was my friend and business partner.’

  ‘Would you say that you got on well?’

  ‘Yes, of course we did. We’ve been friends and practice partners for years, which is why we decided to buy the snooker club together. When he was shot … it was like … like losing my right arm.’ His eyes went glassy.

  ‘The truth?’ Clifford asked her.

  ‘I’m not seeing anything to dispute it.’

  ‘Can you remember the last time you had a disagreement?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘What are you trying to say? That I shot him because of a falling out?’ He banged both fists on the table. ‘I’ve already told you I don’t know how that gun got into my locker. It was planted by someone. You have to believe me.’ He turned to his solicitor. ‘It’s the truth.’

  She rested her hand on his arm. ‘I know.’

  ‘We’ll come back to the
gun shortly. Let’s return to you and Ryan. Would you say it was a volatile relationship?’

  ‘No, we never argued.’

  ‘You were overheard arguing at your house about your relationship with the staff at the snooker club. How do you account for that?’

  ‘Who told you? My wife?’

  ‘Mr Marshall, please answer the question.’

  He leant in and exchanged words with his solicitor.

  ‘No comment.’

  Whitney let out an exasperated sigh. ‘You’re not helping your case. I’ll ask you again, did you and Ryan Armstrong argue?’

  ‘Sometimes we had disagreements, but we were no different from any other business partnership, especially when regarding the direction to take a business.’

  ‘Were your disagreements to do with your manager and the bets he was taking on the side?’

  ‘We didn’t ever discuss that. It was things like me buying beer from another source and breaking our contract with the brewery. He was worried it would get us in trouble. When he played snooker, he’d take plenty of risks, but away from the table he was so risk-averse it wasn’t funny.’

  ‘Did Ryan know about your affair with his wife and that she was going to leave him for you?’

  ‘Nothing was definite about us moving in together and, no, he wasn’t aware of the affair because we were careful.’

  ‘You mentioned in our previous interview that you’d had relationships with other women over the years?’

  He coloured. ‘What’s that got to do with Ryan being shot?’

  ‘Who were these women?’

  ‘They were in the past and nothing to do with Ryan’s shooting, or my affair with Naomi. If that’s all you’re going to ask me then take me back to the cell because I’m done talking.’

  ‘She needs to end this line of questioning,’ Clifford said, running his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Be patient and wait for a moment. She knows what she’s doing,’ George replied.

  ‘I’d like to discuss the gun which you say was planted. Who would do that to you?’ Whitney leant forward slightly.

  George approved of the manoeuvre, as it gave her the upper hand.

  ‘You were right,’ Clifford acknowledged.

  ‘How the hell do I know?’ Marshall said. ‘That’s your job to find out, not mine.’

  ‘Who knows which gym you use and how often you go there?’

  ‘Lots of people. Friends, family, employees. Everyone at the gym. It’s not a secret.’

  ‘And your wife’s family heirloom. Is anyone aware that Jessica owns it and her father looks after it?’

  ‘I don’t know. My father-in-law might have told people about it.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Why would someone want to frame you?’

  ‘How the hell do I know?’

  ‘You must have thought about it and come up with some suspects.’

  ‘Why don’t you do your job properly and find out, because I don’t know. All I can tell you is it’s not me who shot Ryan.’

  ‘When did you last handle the handgun?’

  ‘The gun belongs to Jess and her father. I don’t handle it.’

  ‘Are you saying you’ve never touched it?’

  ‘I don’t remember. Maybe a few years ago. But not recently. You have to believe me.’

  ‘The murder weapon was found in your locker.’

  ‘Were my fingerprints on it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So that’s proof it wasn’t me.’

  ‘There were no prints on there at all as it had been wiped clean.’

  ‘What do I have to say to get you to believe me?’

  ‘Try the truth,’ Brian said. ‘Because you’re facing a very long prison sentence. And it won’t be like Butlins, either. Maximum security prison. Locked up for most of the day. Limited fresh air. You’d love it, it’ll be just like a walk in the park.’

  His eyebrows drew in together. ‘This is ridiculous. You’ve made up your mind and won’t listen to anything I say.’

  ‘You have no alibi for the time during which the shooting took place,’ Whitney said.

  ‘I was at home. How many times do I have to tell you?’

  ‘But conveniently no one can vouch for you. The nanny was away for the weekend and your wife and son were with her parents. You can see that it’s not looking good. Why don’t you admit to killing Ryan Armstrong and make it easier on yourself? It will go in your favour. You’re already facing a long prison sentence, it could be even longer if you don’t cooperate.’

  ‘I. Didn’t. Do. It.’ He folded his arms tightly across his chest, his eyes narrow slits as he stared in their direction.

  Whitney’s body stiffened. ‘Interview suspended. DS Chapman will escort you back to your cell.’

  ‘What about bail?’

  ‘That’s for the judge to decide.’

  Whitney came into the observation room.

  ‘Your view?’ George asked.

  ‘It would be nice if, just for once, a culprit would fess up once they were caught, without us having to go through all this crap to nail them.’

  ‘You don’t believe he was framed?’ Clifford asked.

  ‘George?’

  ‘He was certainly in a state of shock after Brian explained what was likely to happen to him.’

  ‘Maybe the shock was over being caught. Armstrong could have found out about the affair with his wife and confronted Marshall. It turned nasty and, believing he was about to lose everything, Marshall went to the in-laws’ house, under some pretext or other, took the handgun, called Armstrong and asked him to meet at the club to sort it out once and for all. Except how could he have got into the garage to take the gun without anyone knowing? Especially as he’d need to get hold of the key first. We need to go back over the CCTV footage. There’s got to be something.’

  ‘We should also check taxis and Uber. If it was Marshall, he could have left his car at his house, so it looked like he was there,’ George said, as they walked into the incident room.

  ‘Stop what you’re doing and listen,’ Whitney called to her team. ‘We’ve just reinterviewed Marshall, who continues to claim he’s been set up, despite us finding the weapon in his locker,’ Whitney said. ‘Frank, go back over all the CCTV footage again and check the comings and goings at the Armstrong and Marshall houses. Like you said earlier, he could have sneaked out on foot and called a taxi to take him to the club to meet the victim.’

  ‘Yes, guv,’ said Frank. ‘But I don’t think I missed anything.’

  ‘Someone needs to get onto taxi companies and Uber, to see if they had a passenger fitting his description.’

  ‘I’ll do that, guv,’ Meena said.

  ‘Okay.’ Whitney looked at her watch. ‘It’s getting late. We’ll finish now and I want everyone in early so we can get cracking on nailing Marshall. The clock’s ticking, and he’ll have to be released without charge in thirty-six hours if we can’t find something more concrete to nail him.’

  ‘Like the gun found in his locker isn’t enough,’ Frank said, letting out an infuriated sigh.

  ‘You know how this works, Frank. Reasonable doubt. Was the gun planted … blah, blah, blah,’

  ‘Yeah, I know, guv.’

  ‘Do you want me, too?’ George asked.

  ‘Yes, please, if you can make it.’

  ‘I can stay late tonight if you want,’ Frank said.

  ‘Okay, own up,’ Doug said. ‘Who’s stolen Frank and replaced him with some form of AI?’

  Frank frowned. ‘AI?’

  ‘Artificial intelligence. Come on, Frank, you’re not that old. Even you should know what that means.’

  ‘Fuck off.’ He stared daggers at Doug.

  ‘No, you fuck off.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, will the two of you please give it a rest. We do have a visitor here, in case you’d forgotten.’ Whitney nodded at Clifford.

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ Clifford said. ‘I’m thoroughly enjoying the floor
show.’

  ‘Believe it or not, they are the best of friends. And, Frank, I’m sort of with Doug on this. Won’t your wife mind you staying late?’

  ‘She’s going out with a friend for the evening.’

  ‘And poor Frank doesn’t want to be on his own in the house.’ Doug laughed.

  ‘It’s up to you if you want to start having a look,’ Whitney said. ‘But I still want you here early tomorrow morning.’

  Chapter 34

  George looked up from her book when she heard the front door open. Ross walked into the kitchen holding a large bunch of yellow, pink and red tulips.

  ‘I bought these for you,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Thank you. What’s the occasion?’ She took them from him, placed them on the draining board, and went to the cupboard, taking out a Stuart crystal barrel-shaped vase that had once belonged to her grandmother.

  ‘Only you would ask that. Aren’t I allowed to buy you flowers?’ He tilted his head to one side.

  ‘For no reason?’

  Was she being over-analytical?

  ‘Well, there is something I’d like to discuss.’ He rolled his shoulders.

  She froze. What was he anxious about?

  Three months ago he’d asked her to move in with him, so they could be together all the time. She’d agreed. The time they’d spent apart after she’d ended their relationship had made her realise that she would be unhappy without him. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

  The only problem they’d faced was work. She needed to be close to the university and the police station, and, as a sculptor, he needed a studio large enough to work in. They’d ended up splitting their time. During the week they stayed at her house and at the weekend they were at his.

  Ross didn’t mind commuting, he said it helped clear his head.

  It was the perfect arrangement and nothing like when she’d previously lived with someone. Ross gave her space when she needed it, and didn’t insist on the TV blaring all the time. Nor did he get annoyed when she had to work. She had no regrets. Did he? Or was she overthinking? Would a person bring flowers if they were discontented?