There were some things in life it was probably best not to think about, he decided.
Normally, he would mount the podium to address the team, but then normally there would be up to twenty detective constables to address. Not this time. This time, because most of the resources were being pumped into looking for Melanie Danbury, there were only six constables and a sergeant.
That situation would change as soon as they found Melanie, of course, because then they would be searching for a double killer, and that would merit a team maybe four or five times the size of the present one. But that was in the future. For the present, addressing the team from the podium would seem as absurd to them as it did to him.
He cleared his throat. ‘We’re at a very early stage in this investigation. We know this attack wasn’t the work of any of the known perverts, because they’ve all been questioned overnight and ruled out,’ he said. ‘But that’s about the full extent of our knowledge. What we don’t know, for example, is who Jane Danbury’s friends are. We don’t know what clubs or societies she attended, either, or even where she shopped.’
The colonel had said she hardly ever left the house, he reminded himself, but he was not sure how much faith he should put in the words of a man whose mind lived mostly thirty years in the past and on another continent.
‘We will have all this information later in the day,’ he continued, ‘but until it comes in, we’ll have to work with what we’ve got. And what have we got? Well, we know where she was killed. We’ve already done a door-to-door in the area, last night, but I’d like a second – more thorough – one to be carried out this morning. We also have the name of the contract cleaning agency which the Danburys employed, and I’d like everyone who’s worked at the Danbury house questioned. Workmen often see more than we think they do, and can often be the source of valuable information. Isn’t that right, Sergeant Bagley?’
‘It is, sir,’ the sergeant agreed.
‘There have even been cases in which one of the people who worked for the victim is actually the killer,’ Beresford said. ‘He develops a grudge over the way he’s been treated, and, since he already knows the geography of the victim’s home, as well as the victim’s habits, he’s in an ideal position to get his revenge. But I must stress that doesn’t happen very often, so don’t get carried away when you’re interviewing the contract cleaners. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said the six detective constables obediently, though one of them, DC Green, was already getting carried away.
It was just after a quarter to eight that Councillor William Danbury, accompanied by George Fullbright, his solicitor, was ushered into Interview Room B by a uniformed constable. When he saw who was already sitting at the table, anger flashed across his eyes like a sudden, unexpected bolt of lightning, and then was gone, leaving the eyes as cold and inexpressive as a fish’s.
Deciding to interview him personally had been a provocative act, Paniatowski thought – but then provocation often brought out information that treading carefully missed out on completely.
‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Monika Paniatowski, and this is Detective Constable Jack Crane,’ she said. ‘Please sit down, gentlemen.’
The previous evening, Paniatowski hadn’t really formed any impression of Danbury, apart, of course, from the obvious fact that he’d been enraged enough to assault her.
Now, in the cold light of day – and under the harsh lights of Interview Room B – she took the opportunity to study him at length.
He was a handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes. In fact, Paniatowski realised, he bore more than a passing resemblance to Paul Newman. And he exuded an air of confidence which bordered on arrogance, even after having spent a night in the cells.
‘Have you found Melanie?’ Danbury asked.
‘I’m afraid that, for the moment, we haven’t,’ Paniatowski replied.
Danbury nodded fatalistically. ‘Of course you haven’t,’ he said. ‘You’d have told me immediately if you had.’ He paused. ‘Do you have any leads?’
‘We have certain lines of enquiry that we’re following, yes.’
It was a lie. Though a small army of detective constables, drafted in from all over Lancashire at short notice, had kept the residents of Milliners’ Row up for most of the night, they had learned very little.
‘You’re following certain lines of enquiry?’ Danbury repeated.
‘That’s right.’
‘And could you tell me what they are?’
‘No, I’m sorry, I can’t.’
George Fullbright coughed discreetly, opened his expensive leather briefcase, and took out a single sheet of paper.
‘Before you begin your questioning, I would like to read out my client’s prepared statement,’ he said.
‘I’ll make the statement, George,’ Danbury interrupted.
‘Very well,’ his solicitor agreed, sliding the sheet of paper along the table to him.
‘And I don’t need that,’ Danbury told him. ‘I want to say what I need to say, not what you think it’s safe for me to say.’
‘I’m not sure …’ the solicitor began.
‘That’s the way it’s going to be,’ Danbury said. He looked Paniatowski straight in the eye. ‘I want to apologise for my behaviour last night. I know there are those who will excuse it on the grounds that I was under incredible stress, but as far as I am concerned, that’s no excuse at all. By way of some compensation, I’d like to make a substantial contribution to your favourite charity.’
Meadows would have said, ‘Good – make the cheque out to Women Against Male Chauvinist Mill-Managing Pigs.’
Paniatowski merely said, ‘That won’t be necessary.’
‘I want to do it,’ Danbury said firmly.
‘Thank you very much. I’m sure Oxfam will appreciate whatever you can spare,’ Paniatowski told him.
‘I also want to say that Inspector Beresford was quite right to hit me,’ Danbury continued. ‘And if he used more force than was strictly necessary, well, it was no less than I deserved.’
‘Having given the incident a great deal of thought, we have decided not to charge you with attacking me,’ Paniatowski said neutrally.
‘Thank you,’ Danbury said humbly.
Paniatowski caught a hint of a twitch in his left eye. He wasn’t sorry at all, she thought, but he was playing the role of a man who was sorry – and the effort was nearly killing him.
‘However, before you’re released, there are some questions I’d like to ask you,’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘Where were you yesterday?’
‘I was at a trade fair for coloured fabrics in Newcastle. I’d been there since Monday.’
‘What time did you leave Newcastle?’
‘My last meeting finished at five, then, rather than try to cross Newcastle in rush hour, I went back to my hotel room to make some notes on the meeting. So I would estimate it was around seven when I finally got away.’
‘Did you come straight back to Whitebridge?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t stop en route for a drink?’
‘It’s irresponsible to drink when you’re driving. It shows a lack of concern – and that means a lack of respect – for your family.’
‘You arrived home at ten past ten. That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know – I didn’t look at my watch – but I’m more than willing to take your word for it.’
‘When you entered your house, you already knew that your wife was dead, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I’m not following you.’
‘There had been no public announcement of her death at that point. All you should have known was that there were a lot of police cars parked in front of your house, and that therefore something was wrong. So how did you know your wife was dead?’
‘One of the police officers outside told me.’
&nb
sp; ‘Which officer?’
‘I really don’t remember. It was the message, not the messenger, which left an impression on me.’
‘So you’re saying that you knew your wife was dead when you entered the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet you didn’t ask me how she died.’
‘You’ve lost me again.’
‘If someone tells you a loved one has died, the first thing you want to know is how they died. But you never asked.’
‘Why should I have asked? I knew she’d been murdered. I knew her skull had been smashed in. What else did I need to know?’
‘How did you know? Did the officer outside the house give you details?’
‘He must have done. Where else could I possibly have got the information from?’
‘That’s exactly what I was wondering.’
‘But even if I hadn’t known the actual cause of her death, I don’t think I would have acted any differently. My wife was dead. However she’d died, there was nothing I could do about that. But my children needed me.’
‘You didn’t refer to them as your children last night.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘No, you said, “I want to see my boys. I want to see them right now.”’
‘Did I really say that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Maybe that was because I’d got used to referring to my children as my boys, since that’s what they were until Melanie came along. I was, naturally, including her in what I said last night.’
‘I’ll be holding a press conference later this morning,’ Paniatowski told him. ‘Is there anything you think it’s particularly important for me to say?’
‘Won’t I be at the press conference?’ Danbury asked.
‘No, I don’t think that would serve any real purpose.’
‘Isn’t it usual for the parent to make a personal appeal?’
‘Yes, but as I said …’
‘Then why shouldn’t I?’
‘The point of making that kind of appeal, directly to the abductor, is to destroy the preconceptions that he holds about the child he’s kidnapped. The problem is, you have to understand, that he doesn’t see the child as a person at all. Instead, what he sees is …’
Paniatowski fell silent.
‘Go on,’ Danbury said.
‘It’s better if I don’t.’
‘I can take it. I can take whatever it is that you have to tell me.’
‘The kidnapper sees the child as an object, which is only there to satisfy his craving. It’s like an alcoholic with a bottle of wine. He’s not concerned about the wine’s feelings – it’s there to make him happy, to give him relief. I’m sorry to be so blunt, Councillor Danbury, but you see …’
‘So why couldn’t I make an appeal like that?’
‘Because, if you don’t mind me saying so, you seem so remarkably calm, Councillor Danbury,’ Paniatowski said.
Danbury smiled slightly. ‘Do I?’
‘Yes, in fact, you seem almost unnervingly calm.’
‘I’m not at all happy about the aspersions you appear to be casting on my client, chief inspector,’ the solicitor said.
‘There’s nothing to worry about, George – it’s just that DCI Paniatowski hasn’t quite figured me out yet,’ Danbury said. ‘I’m not a cold man, chief inspector, but I don’t choose to wear my heart on my sleeve. A real man, in my opinion, should have too much self-respect to go sobbing on other people’s shoulders. He should keep his grief to himself. A real man should remain rational and in control, even in the face of a crisis.’
‘That’s what you’re doing, is it?’ Paniatowski asked. ‘Remaining rational and in control in the face of a crisis?’
Danbury sighed. ‘Look, the reason I’m here is so that you can ask me questions which might help you to find my daughter. Is that correct?’
‘And also so I can ask you questions which might help us to find your wife’s killer.’
‘And also so you can ask me questions which might help you to find my wife’s killer,’ Danbury agreed. ‘So how much use to you would I be, to either of those lines of questioning, if I were to sit blubbering about how unfair the world is, and why did it have to be my daughter who was taken?’
Alfie Clayton and Tony Hayes had been standing next to each other in the line for more than five minutes – and in complete silence – when Alfie patted his pocket and discovered that he had left his cigarettes at home.
‘Have one of mine,’ Tony said, holding out his own packet.
‘I’ll pay you back,’ Alfie promised.
‘There’s no need,’ Tony countered.
They lit up their cigarettes and puffed away in what could almost have been called companionable silence.
Then Tony said, ‘When you hear about something like this happening, it really cuts your own troubles down to size, doesn’t it?’
‘You’re right there,’ Alfie agreed.
Both men fell silent again, but it was a moodier – more pensive – silence this time.
Then Tony said, ‘I should have been on the lookout for hawks that day – and I wasn’t.’
Alfie shrugged. ‘It’s a mistake anybody might have made. And even if you’d been looking, there’s no guarantee you would have seen them before it was too late, now is there?’
Tony sighed. ‘Poor little lass,’ he said.
‘I do hope we find her,’ Alfie said.
‘I notice that your house is up for sale,’ Paniatowski said to William Danbury.
‘Is that relevant to your investigation, chief inspector?’ Danbury’s solicitor asked sharply.
‘It might be,’ Paniatowski replied.
‘Yes, my house is up for sale,’ Danbury confirmed.
‘Why is that?’
‘For the obvious reason – because we’ve been planning to move.’
‘To some other part of town?’
‘No – to Canada.’
‘That’s a long way.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Is there any particular reason for the move?’
‘I want to bring my sons up in a place where men can still be men.’
‘And can’t men be men here?’
‘Real men can – with effort – be men anywhere, but it’s much harder in a country where the government seems to be determined to turn growing boys into sissies who will jump whenever any petty official tells them to jump.’
‘How did your wife feel about the move?’
‘My wife prefers – she preferred – to leave all the important decisions about the family to me.’
‘Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against her, Councillor Danbury?’
‘No, I truly can’t. Jane didn’t actually know many people. She didn’t go out much. She preferred to stay at home and look after the children.’
‘She might not have known many people, but she must have some friends. Can you tell me their names?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t. You should talk to Gretchen about that. She spent more time with Jane than I did.’
‘Perhaps the killer had a grudge against you, rather than against your wife. Perhaps he’s punishing you by killing Jane and taking your daughter.’
‘That’s preposterous,’ Danbury said. ‘Yes, I have made enemies in my business dealings, but they’re all civilised men, and I refuse to believe that any of them could have done these terrible things.’
‘What I’m trying to understand, Mr Danbury, is why anyone would kill your wife and abduct your baby, unless, of course, he hated either you or Jane.’
‘If I had an explanation to offer, I would offer it – but I don’t,’ Danbury said. ‘Will this take much longer?’ he asked, glancing down at his watch, and then remembering it had been removed when he’d been taken into custody.
‘No, I think that’s all for the present,’ Paniatowski replied.
‘So I’m free to go?’
‘Yes, but we’d like to take a blood sample bef
ore you leave.’
‘Why would you want to do that?’ the solicitor asked, frowning.
‘For elimination purposes,’ Paniatowski said.
Fullbright’s frown deepened.
He wasn’t the sort of lawyer who dealt with criminal cases, Paniatowski thought – land transactions and deeds of covenant were more his style – and he was feeling completely out of his depth.
‘It’s standard police procedure in a case like this,’ she amplified, to make it easier for him.
‘Before we agree to any such procedure, I feel I must consult one of my colleagues,’ the solicitor countered.
‘I can see no harm at all in giving a sample of blood,’ Danbury said.
‘William …’
‘No harm at all.’
‘Very well, if that is your wish,’ the solicitor agreed reluctantly.
‘But I want the whole thing over as soon as possible, because I need to go and pick up my boys,’ Danbury said. He turned to Paniatowski. ‘Where are they, by the way?’
‘They’re in a temporary foster home,’ Paniatowski told him. ‘Social services have assured me that the couple looking after them have had a great deal of experience in handling traumatised children.’
‘Which probably means they’ll mollycoddle them,’ Danbury said. ‘My sons don’t need mollycoddling. They need to be with me, so they can find their own strength by drawing on mine.’ He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. ‘I need that address – and I need it now.’
‘It really might be wiser to leave them where they are for the moment,’ Paniatowski said. ‘You see, though I said you were free to go, we may want to question you again – and next time, the session may be much more protracted.’
‘How much more protracted? Two hours? Three?’
‘It may, in fact, stretch over more than one day.’
‘You’re saying I’m your prime suspect, aren’t you?’ Danbury demanded, as the veneer of reasonableness he’d imposed on himself slowly peeled away.
‘No, I’m not saying that at all,’ Paniatowski told him.
‘Then what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that you might well be holding information in your head – information which, possibly, you may not even be aware of yourself – that could lead us to the killer. I’m saying that extracting that information could turn out be a lengthy process.’
Thicker Than Water Page 6
