Before heading to Mark Slade’s room, James sought out Dale Thomas, who was keeping a list of all the guests and staff members who’d so far been questioned. The best man wasn’t among them.
‘Then leave it to me and DC Abbott,’ he told Thomas. ‘We’re on our way to talk to him now. You can get a formal statement later.’
They had to ring the bell twice before Slade answered the door to his room.
‘I’m so sorry, Detective Inspector Walker,’ he said. ‘I fell asleep on the bed while waiting for someone to come and talk to me.’
‘Well, we’re here now, Mr Slade,’ James said. ‘May we come in? This is my colleague, Detective Constable Abbott.’
Slade waved them inside and invited them to be seated on two small armchairs. His room was a large double and had a balcony overlooking the rear garden. The TV was on and muted, tuned to the BBC News channel.
He perched himself on the edge of the bed and on the table next to him James noticed a half-empty bottle of vodka and a glass piled high with ice cubes.
‘I would offer you both a drink,’ Slade said, pressing out a grin as he looked at Abbott, ‘but I don’t suppose you’re allowed to partake while you’re on duty.’
James took an instant dislike to the guy and he had to remind himself that just because someone was a knob, it doesn’t mean they were capable of murder.
Slade had changed out of his wedding garb and into a crew-neck sweater and loose-fitting jeans. His eyes were small and unfriendly, and his voice rough and clipped. He’d obviously been drinking but seemed sober enough and wasn’t slurring his words.
‘I was there in the Garden Room when you put us all in the picture, Inspector,’ he said, returning his gaze to James. ‘It’s a terrible bloody business. I can’t believe Rachel is dead. She was a lovely girl and a great character.’
‘How well did you know her, Mr Slade?’ James asked.
‘Not very well at all. I was hoping to get to know her better here at the wedding. Before today, our paths only crossed a few times when we attended the same functions, but we’ve always hit it off. I’ve met her sister more often, though, because Greg and I are mates. That’s why he had me as his best man.’
‘We’re asking all the guests the same three questions,’ James said. ‘Did you see anyone acting suspiciously around Rachel before she disappeared? Did you go down to the lake and jetty at any time during the reception and meal? And do you have any thoughts as to who might have committed the murder?’
‘My answer to all three questions is an emphatic no,’ he responded. ‘I’ve been racking my brain to recall when I last saw Rachel and I’m pretty sure it was on the terrace during the reception. She was moving around saying hi to people and posing for photographs.’
‘Did you take any pictures on your phone?’ Abbott asked him.
‘I didn’t see the point. There was an official photographer and Greg told me he’d send me copies of all the photos so that I could choose which ones I wanted to keep.’
‘Were you aware that Rachel had invited a man to the wedding?’ This from James.
‘You mean the Italian bloke with the beard?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘No, of course not. Like everyone else, I was surprised when her pal let it be known downstairs. Have you found him yet or has he done a runner?’
‘We believe he left the hotel,’ James said, ‘but I’m sure we’ll be talking to him soon enough. Did you have any contact with him during the wedding?’
‘None at all, although I think I saw him a couple of times. First, while we were waiting for the ceremony itself to start, and then again on the terrace. But he was by himself both times. I just assumed he was a family member or friend on Libby’s side.’
James studied the man’s face as he spoke. He obviously wasn’t nervous, or if he was, he was doing well to hide it.
Both detectives asked a few more general questions about his personal circumstances and his relationship with Greg Murphy.
‘We’ve been friends for years,’ he answered. ‘I knew his father too, before he died not long ago. Like Greg, he was a regular at the golf club I own.’
He didn’t refer to Sean so James took it to mean that he wasn’t aware that Abbott was engaged to one of his club members.
James finally got around to asking him how well he knew Belinda Travers.
At the mention of her name the blood seemed to retreat from his face.
‘What’s she got to do with anything?’ he snapped.
‘I’m sure you’re well aware of what I’m alluding to, Mr Slade,’ James said. ‘Miss Travers has made an accusation against you. She says you approached her in the garden and kissed her without her consent. You then threatened to slap her when she pushed you away and told you to leave her alone. And the reason it’s significant is that this allegedly occurred not long before Rachel was killed only a matter of yards away on the jetty.’
Slade shook his head, his mouth agape, fury in his eyes.
‘I don’t fucking believe this. That bitch is trying to stitch me up. And it sounds to me like you believe her.’
James leaned forward. ‘Are you telling us she’s lying?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Yes, I saw her when I went into the garden to smoke a joint away from prying eyes. And not for the first time she started flirting with me. She even tried to kiss me. When I pulled away, she got angry and told me to fuck off. I didn’t want to cause a scene so I did just that.’
James had been here before – having to balance one person’s word against another. And as usual, it was hard to know which one of them was telling the truth.
Right now, it was Belinda’s story that sounded the most convincing to James, but he would need to speak to her again, and find out more about her, in order to be certain.
Meanwhile, a hot rage continued to burn in Slade’s eyes and his hands were clenched tightly into fists on his lap.
‘If you’ve got it into your heads that I killed Rachel then you really are as daft as you look,’ he seethed. ‘I had no reason to harm her and you won’t find any evidence linking me to it because it wasn’t me. I swear to God.’
‘But surely you can see why you’ve become a person of interest to us?’ Abbott said. ‘It’s not just because of what Belinda Travers has told us. It’s also because you have a history of violence against women. We’ve checked your police record and it makes for disturbing reading.’
‘That’s all in the past,’ he said. ‘I’m not like that anymore. People who know me will testify to that, including Greg Murphy. I’ve been through treatment programmes and I’ve learned my lesson.’
‘Then you won’t object if we bring in forensic officers to search this room and your belongings,’ James said. ‘We can’t simply ignore what Miss Travers has alleged. And given where and when the encounter you had with her took place it has to be an avenue of enquiry in respect of the murder investigation.’
‘Does that mean I’m under arrest?’ Slade asked, his eyes popping.
James shook his head. ‘Of course not. Miss Travers has given no indication that she wants to press ahead with a case against you. And provided you’re prepared to cooperate fully with us, and that you’re telling the truth, then there’s no reason for this to drag on.’
Slade sat there steaming for several seconds, his jaw pulsing, his face white with anger.
Then, in a voice stretched with tension, he said, ‘So what next?’
James sat back in the chair. ‘I’ll go and arrange for a forensics team to come here. And I’ll get an officer to take a statement from you. Would that be all right?’
‘I suppose it will have to be. Should I call my lawyer?’
‘That’s up to you. But I don’t think it’s necessary at this stage.’
‘Then get on with it,’ Slade said, his tone icy.
James stood up. ‘One other thing, Mr Slade. Stay well clear of Miss Travers. It would be a big mistake to try to confront her regardless of whether what she’s told us is true or not.’