She’d been surprised when Blake Hamilton had agreed so easily to meet with her at short notice. Relief had coursed through her body, too. The trauma of the past few days had left her exhausted, and it was only now that she was away from the house that she realised she’d spent most of the time holding her breath, as if waiting for something.
She climbed out the car and straightened the short skirt she’d managed to squeeze into. She tried not to think about the state of the petrol station toilet she’d used to get changed into her new outfit, and adjusted her blouse. She couldn’t let Matthew know she’d been spending money behind his back, at least not the amounts that had passed through her fingers of late.
Slamming the door shut, she took a deep breath and stepped towards the front portico of the restaurant.
Part of a chain of hotels that had purchased then renovated old buildings around the country to an exquisite standard, the restaurant was popular at weekends and in the evenings. As she entered the reception area and turned right into a lounge area, she was pleased to see that at lunchtime, it was quiet. In fact, aside from two old men – from their conversation, likely two partners in one of the solicitors’ firms that were dotted along the High Street – the bar was empty.
‘Gin and tonic,’ she said to the bartender, and then moved across to a table and two chairs next to the window, sunlight dappling the green velvet upholstery.
She checked her watch as the bartender brought her drink across, nodded her thanks, and took a sip.
She reminded herself not to gulp; she’d need her wits about her for this meeting.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered whether she should have left it another week before approaching him – after all, some might think her callous given that her daughter had been found murdered only hours ago. She pushed the thought away. Right now, her own survival had to take priority, especially as it was evident Matthew’s finances were worse than she first thought.
She heard Blake before she saw him, his sonorous tone carrying from the lounge area, his mobile phone pressed to his ear.
He entered the bar in a hurry, nodded at her before he turned away to finish his call at the same time as ordering a large glass of white wine, and then tucked his phone into his jacket pocket.
‘Diane,’ he said as he approached the table.
She stretched up towards him, offering her cheek.
His lips breezed past her jawline, and then he straightened, held up his glass in a toast, and took a sip. ‘Have you ordered yet?’
‘No. Here.’
He took one of the menus from her and placed his wineglass on the table while he ran his eyes over the food on offer.
‘Thanks for seeing me in private.’
‘No problem. Are you ready to order?’
‘Yes. I’ll have the steak, please. Rare.’ She crossed her legs, and let the short skirt ride up her thigh.
Blake ignored her, glanced over his shoulder and held the menu up to the bartender. ‘One Dover sole, and the fillet steak, rare.’
‘Sir.’
He hovered next to her, then pulled out one of the soft chairs and lowered his bulk into it. ‘I didn’t get to ask you at the house, because Courtney was talking so much. How are you holding up?’
Diane took another sip of her drink, and realised her hands were shaking. She concentrated on putting the glass on the table before answering.
‘It’s a nightmare. Matthew’s gone over the figures again, but it’s impossible – especially now that German retailer pulled out after the Brexit fiasco. The business simply hasn’t recovered.’
‘I meant about Sophie’s murder.’
‘Oh.’ She blushed. ‘Oh, yes. It hasn’t really sunk in that she’s gone, to be honest.’
‘Jesus, Diane.’ He shook his head, and glanced over his shoulder as a waiter in black trousers and crisp white shirt approached them.
‘If you’d both like to follow me through to the dining room and I’ll show you to your table?’
Diane drained her drink, picked up her bag and allowed Blake to lead her back through the dining area.
They turned right at the reception desk and then through a large archway and into a spacious room that overlooked landscaped gardens through French doors.
The waiter fussed over them, placing napkins in their laps, poured water into their glasses, and then left with a promise that their food would be with them soon.
‘I’m truly sorry about what happened to Sophie,’ said Blake. He rested his arms on the table. ‘Have the police charged him yet?’
‘I don’t believe so, no. They came to see you?’
He nodded. ‘Yesterday. Accused Josh of sleeping with her.’
Diane gasped. ‘What did he say?’
‘“No”, of course.’ He frowned. ‘What the hell did you think he’d say?’
‘Sorry. I just thought—’
She broke off as the waiter reappeared, two steaming plates of food in his hands.
By the time he wandered off once more, she’d recovered from Blake’s outburst.
He pushed his knife to one side, used the fork to carve a chunk of the fish apart and shovelled it into his mouth.
‘Did you know she was pregnant?’
She swallowed. ‘No.’
‘Christ, what a mess.’
‘I had no idea, Blake. As far as we were concerned, she was betrothed to Josh.’
‘Yeah, well, in the circumstances, you can forget all about our business arrangement.’
‘You can’t do that!’
His eyes blazed. ‘Keep your voice down,’ he hissed.
She glanced over her shoulder.
There was only one other group in the restaurant, a couple and an elderly woman who seemed oblivious to anyone else around them as they clinked glasses and laughed with the waiter as he moved around their table, rearranging plates and exchanging light-hearted conversation.
She turned back to the American. ‘Please, Blake – you have to help us!’
He pointed his fork at her. ‘You should’ve had a contingency plan, Diane. Every business needs one. That’s where you English aristocracy have always gone wrong. No back-up plan. You’re all dying out—’
Diane glared at him, her eyes stinging.
‘Sorry. That came out wrong.’
She watched as he drained the glass and waved the waiter over.
‘Get me another one of these. D’you want another gin and tonic?’
She shook her head.
‘Fine – just the wine, then.’
Diane picked at her food as the waiter disappeared, her appetite gone.
‘I am not going to be responsible for selling the house,’ she said. ‘It’s been part of my family for nearly three hundred years.’
‘Well, what do you think’s going to happen when you die? There’s nobody left, Diane – sell the damn house, and get a life for chrissakes. Give that poor husband of yours a break.’
‘Surely you can take a look at the numbers again. Suggest to Matthew you buy in as a shareholder?’
‘Buy into what? The company’s worthless.’ He shrugged, put down his fork and picked up his water glass. He finished chewing. ‘No. I was only going to use the house as a tax loss, anyway.’
‘We had a deal.’
‘No daughter-in-law, no deal, Diane.’ He took a sip of water before replacing the glass on the table. ‘I’m sure you understand.’
She dropped her cutlery, the silverware hitting the plate in front of her with a clatter, and then plucked her bag from the floor next to her and rose.
‘Enjoy your fish, Blake. Be careful you don’t choke on a bone.’
Twenty-Nine
‘What is it? What’s going on?’
Kay pulled the living room door shut after assuring Courtney Hamilton they wouldn’t keep her waiting, and noticed that Barnes seemed agitated.
‘I used the downstairs toilet, okay?’
‘Yes?’
For a fleeting mom
ent, Kay wondered if the older detective was about to embarrass them both, but he shook his head.
‘As I closed the door, I noticed another one open in front of me. Some sort of utility room – y’know, for when you’ve been out in the garden or whatever. They’ve got a washing machine and tumble dryer in there, and there’s a bag of golf clubs standing next to another door leading outside.’ He lowered his voice. ‘One of the golf clubs is covered in blood.’
Kay clenched her jaw, checked the living room door was shut before turning back to him. ‘Show me.’
He led the way across the hallway, towards the back of the house. ‘The downstairs toilet is there,’ he pointed. ‘And this is the utility room.’
‘Did you go in?’
‘Yes. I haven’t touched anything. I don’t have any gloves on me – do you?’
‘No, they’re in the car.’
He stayed on the threshold while Kay moved into the room, casting her eyes around the room.
A worktop took up the length of one wall to her right, and she realised the wall abutted the kitchen, with the sink and taps mirroring the plumbing arrangement from the other room. In front of her, the back door resembled a traditional stable door – split in half, with locks and bolts for each section.
To her right, a row of coat hooks had been fixed to the wall, all of them overstuffed with waxed jackets, hats, scarves and a row of boots in varying styles and sizes laid out on the floor below them.
The tiled floor looked well-worn, and not as polished as the rest of the ground floor. Evidently, it was a room that saw a lot of foot traffic, and was used in accordance with its intended design.
The bag of golf clubs to which Barnes had referred stood next to the back door, in a gap formed between the doorframe and the worktop.
Kay moved closer, and crossed her arms to avoid the temptation of touching anything.
As she drew near to the clubs, she noticed that one, a “wood” she recalled from memory, was stained dark red, and whereas most modern clubs were made of metal, this one looked old – and the end was misshapen.
She swallowed.
‘Barnes? Call this in. Lock down this room, and the rest of the house. Get Sharp on the phone and tell him we’ve got ourselves a crime scene.’ She pulled out her phone and headed back towards the living room.
‘In the meantime, I’ll find out where the hell Blake and Josh Hamilton have disappeared to.’
* * *
‘Good work, Barnes,’ said Sharp as they entered the incident room. ‘Is Harriet still at the scene?’
‘Yes,’ said Kay. ‘She’s got a team of four working with her – she says they’ve done a preliminary search of the house, concentrating on the utility room where Barnes found the golf club, and they’ll start a more in-depth search once they’ve finished downstairs.’
‘Good. Are Josh and his father both booked in?’
‘We had to wait for them to get back home as Courtney didn’t know where they were – Blake said he’d been to a business lunch while he’d left Josh at the library to study.’
‘We’ve split them up,’ Barnes added. ‘Josh is in interview room one. Blake is in room three.’
‘Right, we’ll start with Blake then,’ said Sharp. ‘How do they look?’
‘Josh looks sick, very pale. The senior Hamilton looks arrogant.’ Kay shrugged. ‘As usual.’
‘What were you doing at the Hamiltons’ house after Larch’s specific instructions not to go there?’
‘I wanted the opportunity to speak to Courtney Hamilton without her husband being present. He’s the only one that has an issue with me. To date, Courtney has spoken to us freely and candidly. I wanted to gauge her thoughts about Josh’s relationship with Sophie,’ said Kay. ‘She told us that he had been sleeping with her – she’d even bought him condoms and kept it secret from her husband. We were getting on well, and then Barnes found the golf club.’
‘Speaking of which, where is it now?’
‘We dropped it off to one of Harriet’s technical assistants on the way here – Harriet was too busy to leave the scene. I’ve asked him to expedite the testing of the blood to see if it’s a match to Sophie’s.’
Regardless of the find, the team would only have twenty-four hours to question Blake and Josh Hamilton. Without conclusive evidence that linked the golf club to one of them, and in turn finding an answer as to why it was covered in blood, they couldn’t press charges – or expect an extension to the interviewing process given Larch had already instructed them to request the Crown Prosecution Service charge Peter Evans with the girl’s murder.
They would have to wait for Harriet and her team to report their findings.
‘Harriet said there’s hair and skin mixed in with the blood on the end of it,’ said Kay. ‘Certainly consistent with it being used as a weapon.’
‘You’ve updated the evidence log?’
Kay held his stare. ‘Yes, I did. Barnes witnessed everything.’
‘I did,’ Barnes confirmed. ‘It’s all above board.’
‘Good.’ Sharp swallowed, and then gave Kay an apologetic shrug. ‘I had to ask.’
Gavin Piper hurried over from his desk. ‘I’ve just had DCI Larch on the phone. He’d like to see you both. He said “immediately”.’
‘Right, well that’s not a surprise. Barnes, get on to Harriet’s office and have them contact you as soon as he has something for us. Kay – you’re with me.’
Barnes walked away, humming a well-known villain’s theme tune from a sci-fi film.
‘Very funny,’ said Kay, and glared at his retreating figure.
‘Lead the way, Hunter.’
Sharp waited until they were out of the incident room and hurrying along the corridor towards their superior’s office. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.’
‘I’m glad someone has,’ she muttered.
* * *
Larch glared at Kay as Sharp gave him a summarised version of the afternoon’s events.
‘I’m not sure I’m clear, Hunter. What were you doing at the Hamiltons after I specifically requested that you stay away from them?’
‘I was passing by the house, sir, and it occurred to me that we hadn’t asked Courtney Hamilton about Peter Evans. It was my intention to only ask about that, but she invited us in. It seemed a good opportunity to seek more insight into the Hamiltons’ relationship with the Whittakers while Mr Hamilton was absent. During the questioning, DC Barnes requested use of the bathroom; Mrs Hamilton advised him where to find it, and moments later he reported to me that he had found a bloodied golf club. The state of the golf club led us both to believe that the best course of action was to declare a crime scene.’
Larch’s eyes blazed, but to Kay’s relief he turned his attention to Sharp. ‘Sharp? Please tell me this is under control and the media haven’t caught wind of it.’
‘It’s been kept very low-key, guv.’ Sharp’s voice maintained his usual steady tone, despite the tension in the room. ‘No-one from the media has contacted us.’
‘Where are Blake and Josh Hamilton now?’
‘In interview rooms one and three respectively.’ Sharp glanced at Kay. ‘Hunter and I were about to start the formal interviews.’
‘Not a chance in hell,’ said Larch. ‘Given the political ramifications this case could have, I’ll conduct the interviews with you.’
Kay’s heart sank.
Larch tugged at his tie, loosened it, and then threw it on his desk before heaving himself out of his chair. ‘All right. We’ll start with the father – who’s the solicitor on this one?’
‘They’ve got their own family lawyer on hand,’ said Kay. ‘Giles Fordingham.’
The DCI stopped midway to the door, and spun on his heel. ‘Did you say Fordingham?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is there a problem, guv?’
Larch glared at Kay, and then at Sharp. ‘Only that he’s the Right Honourable Richard Fremchurch’s brother-in-law, Detective
s. Did neither of you do your homework?’
Thirty
Kay wedged herself into a semi-comfortable position by propping her feet up on the desk that held the screens and slouching in her chair.
She plucked at a piece of fluff on her trouser leg and fought down the urge to yawn. Right now, she just wanted to curl up and observe the interview, but she knew from experience that a constant stream of interruptions could be expected, given that Harriet’s investigation team were still processing the Hamiltons’ house for additional evidence.
Blake Hamilton had offered no explanation about the bloodied golf club when his car had been pulled over by uniform within half a mile of the house.
Instead, the uniformed officers reported that he’d seemed meek, and certainly surprised that he and his son were now considered prime suspects in the murder of Sophie Whittaker.
She’d wanted to conduct the interviews herself, especially after a second uniformed patrol had brought Josh Hamilton into the custody suite, his face taut.
Instead, after Larch had insisted on taking her place, Sharp had called to Kay over his shoulder as the two senior detectives left the incident room.
‘Hunter, get yourself to the observation suite. I’d appreciate your thoughts on what the Hamiltons have to say.’
She’d grabbed her notebook and phone and had hurried after them, silently thanking Sharp as he’d turned and winked at her before pushing open the door to the room that held Blake Hamilton and his solicitor.
Despite Hamilton’s attempts to insist on being present while his son was interviewed, Larch had stated quite firmly that as Josh was over eighteen years of age, the police were under no obligation to let him, especially as each were being interviewed as potential suspects.
Kay snorted as she watched Blake squirm at being put in his place by the DCI, but her heart sank as she realised it would give Larch yet another reason to make her life uncomfortable, given the man’s political ambitions.
‘Mr Hamilton, can you start by explaining what a bloodied golf club is doing in your possession?’
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