Wendy crossed her arms as they stood outside the interview room.
‘Fitted up? Who'd want to fit him up?’
‘A lot of people, Knight. McCann's a vicious bastard and he doesn't care who he hurts. I'm damn sure he killed his first wife and everyone else knows it too. The worst thing is, he knows we know it and he also knows we can't do a fucking thing about it.’
Justice was cruel sometimes, and a lack of evidence meant a lack of a trial and a lack of conviction. In essence, the killer walked free. This, amongst other things, was what riled Jack Culverhouse the most about the modern police force.
‘But surely if he's come that close to being caught before he's not likely to kill again on a whim. Besides, killing your wife is completely different to just popping off a business associate. It's not the sign of a serial killer. It just doesn't add up, guv.’
‘A killer's a killer, Knight. And Gary McCann is a killer. I’ve been a copper long enough to know a killer when I see one.’
‘But what reason would he have to kill Danielle Levy? He said himself he doesn't even know the girl.’
‘That doesn't mean anything. McCann's good at lying through his teeth. For all we know, they could have been carrying on together and he did her in before she started gobbing off to her mates.’
‘Pardon me, guv, but I can't see any reason why a seventeen-year-old girl would want to “carry on” with a greying, beer-bellied man with a criminal history.’
‘You'd be surprised what attracts some women, Knight. Funnier things have happened.’
Wendy surreptitiously eyed Culverhouse before trying to work out whether she agreed or disagreed with his summary.
‘Yeah, I think I probably would be surprised.’
‘The fact of the matter is, Danielle Levy's hair was found in McCann's house and car. She was there. That's a fact. We just need to find out why.’
‘And how do you suggest we do that when McCann swears blind he's never heard of her?’
‘We go round and talk to the wife. I reckon she’d be a much easier pushover than he would. She’s certainly far more likely to let something slip if we push hard enough, anyway.’
‘We can't do that, guv. We don't have a warrant to enter again.’
‘I don't need a warrant to ring the fucking doorbell,’ Culverhouse replied angrily.
Back at Gary McCann's house, Knight and Culverhouse were pleased to see McCann's second and current wife, Imogen, tending to the front garden.
‘See?’ he said to Wendy. ‘Didn't even need to ring the doorbell after all.’
Bringing the car to a halt on the sweeping gravel driveway, the pair got out and introduced themselves to Imogen McCann.
‘Ah, Mrs McCann. I don't think we've met. Detective Chief Inspector Jack Culverhouse, Mildenheath Police. This is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Wendy Knight.’
‘Yes, I've heard a lot about you,’ the woman said, one eyebrow raised.
‘I’m glad my reputation precedes me. Can we speak inside?’
Imogen McCann guided DCI Culverhouse and DS Knight into the spacious living room adorned with photographs and watercolour paintings. Culverhouse stood, one hand in his pocket, the other picking up photographs and examining them.
‘Lots of photos you have here.’
‘Yes.’
‘None of your husband's ex-wife, I notice.’
‘No. He doesn't like the reminders. Why would he? We’ve all moved on.’
‘Oh. Rather odd,’ Culverhouse said. ‘I thought they got on quite well?’
‘Well, yes, they did. He doesn't like the reminders of what happened to her, I mean. It's not exactly the sort of thing you want staring you in the face every day. Gary's been through hell with what happened to Tanya. Especially when you lot wouldn't leave him alone and tried to convict him of murdering her. It’s outrageous the way you lot treat grieving families sometimes.’
‘Believe me, Mrs McCann, if I had the time I'd try again. Unfortunately, we have other dead people to try and bring justice to. This time, I won't allow the system to let them down.’
‘And what, you think Gary had something to do with Bob Arthurs' death too, I suppose?’
‘Oh no, Mrs McCann. I've not even got onto the Bob Arthurs case yet. We're currently interviewing your husband in connection with the murder of Miss Danielle Levy,’ Culverhouse read from his notepad, as if seeing the name for the first time.
‘Who?’
‘A seventeen-year-old girl from Heathcote Road. She went missing on Friday lunchtime and was found dead in the woods between Upper Berrydale and Middlebrook. We're not quite sure how she died, because her body had been so badly dissolved by industrial-strength hydrochloric acid. Do you need me to go on, Mrs McCann?’
Imogen McCann's face told Culverhouse all he needed to know in response to that question. ‘But how could it have been Gary? That’s ridiculous. Did he even know her?’
‘That's what we're trying to find out. Do you know if your husband had been having any extra-marital affairs? One night stands? Playgirls?’
‘Come off it, Inspector! Gary's a caring family man.’
Culverhouse almost exploded in a fit of laughter, leaving Wendy unsure as to whether it was real or purely for display purposes. ‘Yeah, and I'm Diana fucking Ross. I just white-up for the day job.’
‘Mrs McCann, did you ever suspect that your husband may have been unfaithful to you?’ Wendy said, trying to inject some professionalism into the proceedings.
‘No, never. I trust him and I know he wouldn't do that.’
‘The thing is, we've found traces of Danielle Levy's hair in your house and in your husband's car.’
‘Traces? What kind of traces?’
‘Massive fucking clumps,’ Culverhouse said bluntly.
‘I don't see how that's possible. I mean… he…’
‘I know this might be hard for you to digest, Mrs McCann’ Wendy said, ‘but I really need to you think hard as to whether your husband may have known Danielle Levy and how her hairs might have come to be in your house and car. Because, at the moment, it really isn't looking very good.’
Imogen McCann sat in silence for a few moments before speaking.
‘Well. There is something.’