Wendy had allowed herself a little smirk when she’d been called down to interview Desmond Jordan that evening. The arresting officers had seen that CID had him marked as a person of interest and were taking first dibs on interviews with him. Even more satisfying for Wendy was that she’d managed to get to him before Luke Baxter had.
Desmond Jordan’s eyes looked dark and sullen as she and Culverhouse sat down opposite him at the desk and she took a few moments to look into his eyes.
‘A respected family doctor walks into a local pub and punches a woman in the face, three days after being spoken to by the police about a spate of violent attacks on women. Not looking good, is it?’ Wendy said, being uncharacteristically barbed. Her hatred for men who hit women was something she couldn’t hide, no matter how much she tried.
Jordan had chosen not to have a solicitor present, presumably because he’d fallen under the common misapprehension that requesting a solicitor would somehow be an unspoken admission of guilt.
‘Do you want to say anything about that?’ Wendy asked.
‘Yes, it was a stupid thing to do but I was provoked. I’ve been under a lot of stress recently, what with your colleague turning up at my house the other day.’
‘Oh, so we’ll just let you go and leave you alone, shall we? Wouldn’t want you to be stressed, after all,’ Culverhouse replied icily. ‘I’m sure the families of the four murdered women won’t mind.’
‘I had nothing to do with that,’ Jordan said, without a hint of emotion in his voice.
‘I never said you did. But I don’t think the families would be happy if we didn’t do our job and investigate properly, which, as you were told by DS Baxter, involves speaking to a large list of people of certain professions. I know that if I were in your shoes, I’d want the killer caught.’
Desmond Jordan said nothing.
‘This isn’t going to do your career much good, is it?’ Wendy said. ‘Conviction for violent assault on a woman? I’m pretty sure that would result in being struck off.’
‘Not necessarily, no. I’d have to go before a GMC panel who’d decide if I was fit to practise. If I was convicted, that is. As you well know, you’ve only arrested me. The police don’t convict; the courts do.’
Wendy smiled. ‘And you think we’re going to have any trouble getting a conviction? After you punched a woman in the middle of a pub full of people?’
‘I’d like to ask you a little more about your whereabouts in the early hours of the thirty-first of August, seventh of September and twenty-ninth of September,’ Culverhouse said. ‘You told Detective Sergeant Baxter that you were at home on your own on those nights.’
‘Yes, I stay at home on my own every night. When I get home from work, I like to wind down at home.’
‘And your wife and kids are away for a while, is that right?’
‘Yes, they’ve gone back to Baltimore for eight weeks. To visit family.’
‘That’s a long time to be away, isn’t it? Was that your idea?’ Wendy asked, firing her questions at Jordan.
‘I don’t know who first suggested it. We both go back occasionally, but Bess can get more time away, obviously. As they’re staying with family it’s only really the flights that cost money. It costs them next to nothing while they’re out there, so they make the most of it.’
‘Your wife works as your practice manager, doesn’t she? How can she have that much time away? And what about your kids?’
‘They’re homeschooled. And we get a temp in while Bess is away. As much as I love my wife, it’s not a particularly difficult job. We use an agency who supply experienced people. It’s not a problem.’
Culverhouse shuffled in his seat. ‘Must be nice for them to be out of your hair for a few weeks. Gives you free reign to be the man you want to be.’
‘I can see you’ve been married, Inspector,’ Jordan said, smiling. ‘It has its advantages, but mostly I just get on with my work.’
‘And your nice relaxing evenings,’ Wendy added. ‘During which you never leave the house, is that right?’
‘On the whole, yes. I mean, I might occasionally pop out to the shop or something but generally speaking, yes.’
‘Which is interesting, because one of your neighbours said she sees you leave the house quite a bit in the evenings. She couldn’t give us any specific dates, but she reckoned it must easily be more than half of the nights.’ As Wendy spoke, she could see Jordan’s jaw clenching, his nostrils flaring. ‘Is that when you pop to the shop? Because I don’t know about you, but personally I’d get all the stuff in one go. Quite a pain to have to go out on more than half of your evenings.’
‘If you’re talking about the woman I presume you’re talking about, you’ll know that she’s nuts,’ Jordan said quietly. ‘Quite frankly, she’s a sensationalist.’
Culverhouse changed tack quickly, trying to throw Jordan off balance. He removed four photographs from the brown folder in front of him and placed them in front of Jordan. ‘Keira Quinn, Lindsay Stott, Emma Roche and Marla Collingwood. Do you recognise any of them?’
‘No, should I?’ Jordan replied.
‘I should imagine so. We know they weren’t patients of yours, but at least two of these photos have been on the news and in the papers recently,’ Wendy said.
‘I don’t watch the news or read the papers. Most of it’s horse shit.’
‘That’s one thing we can agree on,’ Culverhouse said, removing a further five photographs from the folder. This time, they were close-up photos of the victims taken at the crime scene. ‘Perhaps this might help. This is how they were found, after they’d been killed.’
Desmond Jordan spent a few seconds looking at each of the photographs before he looked up at Culverhouse.
‘I must say, you don’t seem too surprised or disgusted. Most people have some sort of visible reaction when they see a murder victim,’ Wendy said.
‘I’m a doctor. These pictures are no more shocking to me than a pair of handcuffs is to you.’
‘I think I’d still expect some sort of reaction,’ Wendy replied, narrowing her eyebrows.
‘Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed. Alexander Pope.’
‘You’re clearly a very wise man,’ Culverhouse said, exchanging a look with Wendy. ‘So perhaps you could start by telling us where you really were on those three nights.’