They arrived at Amie Tanner’s house in Market Overton about twenty minutes later, the low sun bright in the sky as the frosty start to the day had begun to thaw.
They parked up in a bay opposite the Black Bull pub, the Church of St Peter and St Paul just visible through the bare branches of the trees between. The car fell silent as Caroline switched off the engine and the sound of the hot-air blowers suddenly stopped.
‘Walk from here?’ she said. ‘Good to get some air in the lungs. Plus we can sneak up like Cagney and Lacey.’
‘Which one am I?’ Dexter asked.
‘I’ll leave that to your filthy imagination.’
The pair walked down Thistleton Road towards Amie Tanner’s house, their hands thrust in their coat pockets as the biting cold threatened to worm its way in.
‘Christ, it’s even colder here than it was in Uppingham,’ Dexter said. ‘How’s that even possible?’
‘Because that was Uppingham. We’re up north now,’ Caroline replied with a grin.
A couple of minutes later, they reached Amie Tanner’s house and Dexter knocked on the door. They could see the edge of the TV screen through the living room window — a kids’ programme Caroline didn’t recognise. A few moments later, the door opened.
‘Amie, hi,’ Caroline said. ‘DI Caroline Hills and DS Dexter Antoine. We spoke yesterday.’
‘I know. Hardly going to forget that, am I? Can I help you?’
‘We just wondered if we might be able to pop in and have a quick word.’
‘Have you found out who did it?’
‘Not yet. We need some more information.’
Amie let out a sigh. ‘Alright. But I warn you, the place is a mess.’
They stepped inside and closed the door behind them. Dexter glanced into the living room, briefly locking eyes with Amie’s husband. ‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Sorry to trouble you.’
‘It’s fine,’ he replied. ‘I’ll keep the girls in here. They’re glued to the telly anyway.’
Amie led them through into the kitchen and gestured towards the table for them to sit. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
Caroline raised a hand. ‘We’re fine, thanks. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time. We can see you’re busy. We just wanted to ask you a couple more questions about Martin Forbes. Somewhere private, perhaps?’
Amie looked at them for a moment, then poked her head round the door into the living room. ‘Gavin? Can you take the girls upstairs for a bit please?’
They listened as Amie’s husband did as he was asked, before Caroline spoke quietly enough to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard.
‘I’ll get straight to the point. We’ve had some reports that your relationship with Martin wasn’t always strictly work-related. Is that true?’
Amie laughed. ‘Is that what you wanted to ask me? Jesus Christ, of course not. No chance.’
‘There was never anything other than a working relationship?’ Caroline asked.
‘Absolutely not, no. If someone’s tried telling you that, they’ve got the wrong end of the stick completely. He tried coming on to me a few times, but I always brushed him off. I’m married with kids, for Christ’s sake.’
‘And it never went any further than Martin’s advances and your rejections?’
‘No. Categorically no.’
Caroline nodded as she wrote in her notebook. ‘Okay. Sorry. You understand we have to ask these things, of course.’ Amie didn’t reply. ‘Ooh, I like those,’ Caroline said, nodding her head towards the vase on the kitchen windowsill. ‘Are they roses? They’re very dark.’
Amie’s demeanour seemed to change almost immediately. ‘Yes. Rosa Black Baccara.’
‘You seem to have quite a lot of admirers.’
‘Actually, they were my dad’s favourite. He used to be a gardener at Barnsdale. Every year he used to send me a dozen of them on Valentine’s Day.’
‘Used to?’
‘He died. Ten years ago. I think my mum sends them now, but she’ll never admit it. I thought it was Gavin at first, but it’s not. I can always tell when he’s lying. I suppose I might never find out, but that doesn’t matter. It’s sort of a reminder of Dad. It’s nice.’
‘It is. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s fine.’
‘They’re an interesting colour. I’ve never seen roses that dark before.’
Amie shrugged. ‘I guess that’s why he liked them. He loved anything that was different, out of the ordinary. He was a bit of an old hippy, in many ways.’
‘Man after my own heart. So, let’s go back to Monday night. You weren’t at work, is that right?’
‘Yes. I’ve got the week off.’
‘Were you at home?’
‘Yes. We went into Peterborough on Saturday, but we’ve been at home since. Gavin’s been out to walk the dog a couple of times, but that’s about it.’
‘In the village?’
‘Yes.’
Caroline nodded and noted this down. Market Overton was a good half an hour’s drive from where Martin’s body was found. ‘And what time did he go out on Monday?’
Amie laughed. ‘About lunchtime. Sorry, but you’re on the wrong track if you think Gavin had anything to do with it.’
‘We’re just trying to ascertain everyone’s whereabouts, that’s all.’
‘Okay, well in that case we were both here, at home. All evening.’
‘What were you doing?’
Amie sighed. ‘We put the kids to bed, then I had a bath for an hour or so, then I came downstairs, we opened a bottle of wine and we had sex on the sofa. Is that enough information for you?’
‘Where was he while you were in the bath?’
‘Downstairs, watching TV. And before you ask, yes, I know he was because he’s allergic to the dog and he was sneezing almost constantly. Besides which, the car’s parked right below our bathroom window so I would’ve heard him if he’d gone out, and it’s a bloody long walk to Seaton.’
‘Okay, I think we all need to take a breather for a few moments,’ Caroline said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. ‘I understand it’s a difficult time and we might not be coming across in the right way, but I just want to assure you that all we’re trying to do is get all the information we can as quickly and efficiently as possible so we can find Martin’s killer.’
Amie nodded and looked up at her. ‘Well in that case, you’d better get back out there, because you’re not going to find them here.’