Superintendent Thornton was not in a good mood when Tim and Juliet returned to the station.
‘Where the hell have you been, Yates? There’s a couple of Irish policemen here. They’ve brought in someone called William Pett. He’s already in custody in Ireland and they say you want him for questioning here. We’ve put him in the cells for now. Can you tell me what this is about? They seem to think we’re paying their travel expenses, as well!’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I did ask Superintendent Donnelly to let us interview Pett. The Irish police have only just apprehended him – they’ve been after him for a long time. I had to say we’d pay them to escort him. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been happy to risk losing him again.’
‘And you omitted to mention this to me?’
‘I’m sorry. It must have slipped my mind.’
‘Typical, if I may say so. Why are you so keen to talk to this Pett? It’d better be worth the expense!’
‘He’s the father of the girl who was found in the Fossdyke Canal.’
‘Oh, so it’s Michael who should be footing the bill.’
‘We can ask DI Robinson to share the costs if you like. But you should also know I now have another reason for being interested in Pett: the Irish police think he’s involved in a series of vehicle thefts over there.’
Superintendent Thornton changed tack immediately. He emitted a low whistle, which almost reduced Juliet to giggles.
‘You think he might be responsible for taking vehicles here, too?’
‘I think it’s likely he’s mixed up in it. I’m not sure he’s the mastermind.’
‘Well, get on and interview him, Yates. Do you want to take Armstrong with you?’
‘DC MacFadyen has been detailed to assist DI Yates with the theft case,’ said Juliet quickly. ‘I’d like to concentrate on Martha Johnson’s disappearance, if that’s okay.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Tim. ‘Do you want to start working through those files?’
‘Yes,’ said Juliet. ‘I might need some assistance. It’ll involve going out for a while.’
‘See you later.’
Superintendent Thornton was still hovering.
‘Do you want me to sit in on the interview with Pett?’ he asked. Tim’s heart sank.
‘That’s generous of you, sir, but DC MacFadyen is completely up to speed with the case. If you could keep tabs on the door-to-doors for the Smythe murder I’d be grateful. We’re going to have to issue a press release about Martha Johnson later, too.’
‘Drat it, you’ve just let Armstrong leave. I’ll have to draft the press release myself now. There’s no news of the Johnson woman, I suppose?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I’d better get on with it. Assure the public that no stone is being left unturned and we’re doing all we can to help the family, etcetera. Talking of which, go easy on Pett, won’t you? Remember he’s just been bereaved. I don’t want him kicking up a stink because we haven’t handled him sensitively enough.’
William Pett was something of a surprise. Tim had imagined he’d be big and beefy, with muscular arms and a beer gut, but instead the man standing before him bore a strong resemblance to a very well-dressed leprechaun. His face was gaunt and rather aristocratic-looking, while there was such fluidity to his movements that he almost seemed to be dancing. Only his high colour suggested that Tim might have been right in one respect: Pett had the complexion of the habitual heavy drinker.
One of the Irish policemen was sitting with Pett; the other was guarding the door. Pett stood when Tim and Ricky entered the interview room and the seated policeman automatically stood up with him, revealing that they were handcuffed together. Superintendent Donnelly had obviously instructed his team that Pett must be given no opportunity to escape. There was no solicitor present, which Tim thought odd, until he remembered that ostensibly Pett was being questioned only about his daughter’s disappearance and murder. He sighed inwardly. Pett would be unlikely to pass up on the chance to delay the interview by demanding legal representation if its subject switched to the stolen vehicles.
‘Mr Pett,’ said Tim. ‘Thank you for coming here.’
Disconcertingly, Pett broke out into a high-pitched laugh.
‘Didn’t have much choice, did I?’ He raised his fist, displaying its shackle, and gestured at the policeman at the door with his free hand. He sounded amicable enough, Tim thought … and as tricky as a nest of snakes.
‘Please, sit down.’ Tim gestured at the chairs that Pett and the policeman had just vacated. ‘This is DC MacFadyen. I’m afraid we need to ask some questions about Selina. First, I’d like you to know that we’re very sorry for your loss.’
Pett’s leprechaun eyes darted and twinkled.
‘Ach, the good Lord was ready to take her, so she went. Some childer are destined to die young. It’s in their stars.’
‘It wasn’t fate that took your daughter, Mr Pett. She was murdered.’
‘Aye, so you say. Her mother will believe you.’
‘Where is your wife?’
‘She’s been kept by your crew in Ireland. They wouldn let us both out of their sights together. Just as well, maybe. She wouldn have wanted to see the body.’
‘Penny Green has already identified your daughter – we’re satisfied that she was the girl pulled from the Fossdyke. But you’ll want to see her for yourself, of course.’
Pett sat up straight in his chair and flicked his bright eyes around the room. His twinkling, genial demeanour had evaporated in a flash.
‘Penny has a lot to answer for. She’ll be sorry when I catch up with her.’
‘Ms Green was doing her best to look after your daughters. You and your wife left them in her care.’
‘Aye, because we trusted her with them,’ said Pett, eyeballing Tim and spraying him with spittle.
‘My understanding is that Ms Green wasn’t asked to sleep under the same roof as them. She could hardly be held accountable for their actions when you gave them that degree of freedom.’
‘That’s as maybe. There’ll still be trouble when I see her.’
‘I must warn you that this conversation is being recorded. If you or anyone else threatens Ms Green, the recording may be used as evidence against you.’
Pett fell silent and stared at the floor. Tim allowed him time to collect himself before he continued.
‘Your wife’s name is Rosa, right?’
Pett nodded.
‘Why did you and Rosa leave three young girls only semi-supervised? You must have had a powerful reason to do such a thing.’
‘’Twas for business. To make the money to get us through the winter.’
‘And Rosa had to go with you, too?’
‘She helps me.’
‘What kind of business is it, Mr Pett?’
‘I’m a trader.’
‘What do you trade?’
‘This and that. I look out for stuff for people, take it to them if I can get them a deal.’
‘I see. So “people” ask you to get things for them?’
‘That’s about the size of it.’
‘Does it include vehicles?’
‘It might do. Look, what is this? I came here to talk to you about Selina and the bastard that killed her. It isn’t about me and what I do.’
‘Agreed, Mr Pett. I apologise. We’ll leave it there, perhaps come back to this discussion another time, when it will be your right to have a solicitor present. I’ll arrange for you to visit the morgue now. Just one more question, if I may. Does the name Josh Marriott mean anything to you?’
Tim was scrutinising Pett closely. Pett met his eye boldly and took his time to answer.
‘No. Why? Should it do?’
‘No particular reason. What about Jack Fovargue?’
‘No,’ said Pett, more quickly this time. He yanked at the handcuff and he and the Irish policeman stood up together.
If Tim was sure of anything, it was that Pett was lying.