Wendy volunteered to drive back to the station, the pair having taken Andy Quinn home again. She found that driving helped her to process her thoughts, and she had plenty of those going through her head today.
‘I mean, it’s pretty normal to expect a different reaction to an ex-wife dying than your present wife, but didn’t he strike you as a bit odd?’ Wendy asked a quiet Culverhouse as she slowed down for yet another red traffic light. ‘And before you say it, yes I know, people grieve in different ways. But he seemed almost... Not pleased, but peaceful. Yeah, peaceful. Didn’t you think?’
She glanced sideways at Culverhouse. He was nodding acquiescently in the way he always did when he didn’t want to engage in conversation. Wendy, on the other hand, was very keen to talk.
‘It all just seems a bit odd. Hearing it on the news on the radio and phoning it in because his ex-wife owned a similar top and ring. I mean, I know, that’s why we put the appeals out in the first place, but still. Bit weird, isn’t it? That suddenly, I mean.’
This was almost becoming a game to Wendy now. Although she respected her boss, she did take a perverse pleasure in making him feel uncomfortable.
‘How long until we ask him for an alibi for last night? Sad to say it, but he’s the only lead we’ve got at the moment. It probably won’t have crossed his mind yet, but we should speak to him before he’s had a chance to think about it. I’ll wait for the FLO to see him first, though.’
‘I can speak to him if you’d like,’ she added. ‘Presume you’ll be sending Debbie as the FLO?’ DC Debbie Weston was the trained Family Liaison Officer for the department. ‘That’s one job I’d never want to do. Not exactly many bright days in that job, are there?’
Culverhouse let out a sigh. ‘Helen came to see me last night.’
Wendy’s eyebrows shot up as the traffic lights turned green and the car stuttered forward, her foot slipping off the clutch a little too keenly. ‘Helen? Your wife Helen?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What did she say? What did she want? Where’s she been?’
‘Nothing of any use, God knows, and Spain, apparently.’
‘Blimey,’ Wendy said, unsure of what else to say. ‘I hope she had her excuses at the ready.’
‘Oh yes. Plenty of excuses. As per usual,’ Culverhouse replied, looking out of the passenger-side window.
‘I’m not really sure what to say. How do you feel?’
‘Tired.’
Wendy nodded. She could only remember one other time when she’d been in this position, Jack opening up and telling her something other than how many sugars he wanted in his coffee.
‘I’ll speak to Debbie when we get back,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I’ll let her know the situation so she knows we’ll want to speak to Quinn. Get her to keep her eyes and ears open.’
Wendy desperately wanted to know more about Helen’s visit but could see Jack didn’t want to talk about it. Now that she thought about it, she realised he hadn’t ever even told her about Helen leaving or what had happened. She’d only heard the third-hand stories that everyone else had, that Helen had upped and left one day with their young daughter. Most people knew better than to broach the subject and ask what happened. Culverhouse could be a terrifying character at the best of times, so asking him why his wife had walked out on him and taken their daughter with her didn’t seem like a great idea to most people.
So why had he suddenly trusted her? Perhaps he just needed to tell someone, she presumed. A man like Jack Culverhouse didn’t have many close friends, living his life wedded to the job. She presumed he had just needed to open up and she left it at that.