I was in no hurry to interview Luke Gibson. Instead, I went to find Liv. I needed to find out what I’d missed.
‘Absolutely nothing.’ She was dunking a herbal teabag in hot water unenthusiastically. I didn’t blame her; the smell that rose up from it was the opposite of appetising. ‘After you let us know you’d got Luke, we picked up Orlando Hawkes and Roddy Asquith at their offices.’
‘Did they argue with you?’
‘No. I don’t think they were expecting it, but they came quietly. Maybe they didn’t want to draw attention to what was happening.’
‘Sensible,’ I commented. ‘That’s unusual.’
‘It was a bit like they’d been advised on what to do if the police came calling.’ Liv raised her eyebrows at me meaningfully. ‘They both asked for their lawyers. We can’t interview them until the lawyers are ready.’
‘And are the lawyers here?’
‘Orlando Hawkes is with his brief as we speak.’
‘He’s preparing a statement.’ Pete Belcott gave a bubbling sniff that made me wince. He was pale and sweaty.
‘Jesus. You look awful.’
‘It’s only a cold,’ he croaked, ‘but it’s kicking my arse.’
‘I keep telling him he should be at home.’ Liv was as far away from him as it was possible for her to be. ‘You’re going to give it to the rest of us.’
He looked at me, his eyes threaded with red veins and watery. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Please, go.’ I always forgot I was senior to Belcott now. He never forgot it, which said everything about how he felt about it. I knew he had told everyone that I’d only been promoted because I was a woman, as a box-ticking exercise. The trouble was, as he and I both knew, I’d earned my promotion and he’d failed his sergeant’s exams. That should have been the end of that, but Belcott had never met a grudge he didn’t want to cherish.
‘If you’re sure you don’t need me, I’ll head off.’ He dragged himself out of the kitchen and I heard him coughing his way down the hallway.
Liv shuddered delicately. ‘Health hazard.’
‘At the best of times,’ I murmured. ‘But I do feel sorry for him.’
‘He lives on his own, doesn’t he? It’s miserable being sick when you’re alone.’ Liv had Joanne to make her lemon and honey drinks and tuck her into bed with a hot-water bottle, and I had Seth to do the same, even though it would come with a lecture about improving my immune system and herbal tinctures that I was guiltily aware I deserved. I gave a tiny sigh. It was amazing I’d managed to survive for so long.
‘And you picked up Gibson without too much trouble?’
‘He’s in room three,’ I said.
‘Asquith is in two, Hawkes is in one.’ Liv sipped her drink and pulled a face. ‘Disgusting. I’m hoping it kills off the cold germs before it kills me.’
‘Who else is here?’ The office was quiet, for once.
‘Georgia.’
‘Great.’
Liv snorted. ‘I can see you’re delighted.’
‘Oh, she’s fine. Look, you don’t need to stay. Even Georgia can’t make a mess of babysitting a couple of interviews.’
She shook her head. ‘I want to hear what Hawkes has to say.’
‘Then you’re in luck.’ Georgia appeared in the open doorway and I tried to remember what I’d been saying about her, wondering how offensive it might have sounded and deciding the answer was very. ‘Mr Hawkes is ready to share his statement with us.’
Technically it wasn’t Mr Hawkes who shared his statement with me and Liv and the tape machine, but his lawyer.
‘Jeremy Fallon.’ He held out his hand to shake mine and I felt the heavy signet ring on his little finger press into my skin. He was a large man wearing a very expensive suit that had been tailored to give him wide shoulders and a waist he might otherwise have lacked. An orange and blue tie lurked under his chins. It had the soft sheen of silk and was covered in interlocking Hs: the sort of tie that didn’t come cheap for the sort of lawyer whose hourly rate would pay for a handful of them. Fallon had a jolly smile and eyes that were colder than the rings of Saturn.
‘I’m here at Mr Hawkes’ request to read you a statement that he’s prepared about his involvement with Miss Paige Hargreaves. Or rather, his lack of involvement with her.’
I looked at Orlando Hawkes. ‘Are you prepared to answer some questions after we’ve heard your statement?’
‘Mr Hawkes is not,’ Fallon said smoothly, before Orlando could even react. ‘Although he wishes of course to be helpful, he can’t add anything to what I am about to read.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
Fallon reared back, hurt. ‘My client would be perfectly within his rights to refuse to say anything at all.’
I put my pen down on my notebook and folded my arms. ‘Please, go ahead.’
Orlando Hawkes’ face was completely impassive as his lawyer held up the single sheet of paper that had taken them two hours to write.
‘This statement has been prepared on behalf of Orlando Edgar Hawkes, currently resident of 23 Garsington Road, Fulham.’ He cleared his throat. ‘“I am aware of the very sad death of Paige Hargreaves and wish to assist the police in their enquiries to the best of my abilities. I knew her socially because we moved in the same circles and had friends in common, but I did not have a close friendship with her. I met her a number of times at bars and informal gatherings and on one occasion she visited my home in the company of other friends. It was a casual visit following a night out at a bar. At no time was I alone with her and I did not have any meaningful conversation with her then or at any other time. I was not aware that she had left any personal items in my home. I do not know when she might have left her possessions in my home but I suggest it might have been on that occasion. It is the sole occasion that I can remember Miss Hargreaves being in my home. I do not know which rooms she visited on that occasion. She would not have been restricted to rooms on the ground floor and may have been in the bathroom and bedrooms.
“I am aware that Miss Hargreaves was an investigative journalist. I did not speak to her regarding her work. Nor did she ever interview me, formally or informally, regarding her work.
“This statement is my full and complete account of my interactions with Paige Hargreaves. I am not aware of any other information which may be of use to the police in their investigation.”’
The lawyer laid it on the table delicately and slid it across to me. ‘It’s signed, as you can see, by Mr Hawkes, and dated with today’s date.’
It was a clever enough statement, I thought. Hawkes had been told that we’d found some of Paige’s belongings in the house, but not what we’d found, nor what that might imply, nor how we had identified anything that belonged to her. He hadn’t made the mistake of knowing too much: the very vagueness of what he said made it hard to question him. What he was really saying was that there was no significance to anything we had found. Moreover, if we found Paige’s DNA in the house – just about anywhere – he had established that there was an innocent reason for it to be there so it had no evidential value for us. He had admitted to knowing Paige, so if we encountered some of their mutual friends there was nothing they could say that would contradict him. However, he was the only one who knew how close his relationship with Paige had been, or if he had talked to her about the Club. If he said they were vague acquaintances, who could say that was wrong?
‘Is that it?’ I asked.
‘That’s all we have to say. Now, I think my client would like to go.’ Fallon looked to Orlando, who nodded sombrely.
‘Before you do, can I ask you what job you do, Mr Hawkes?’
Fallon’s eyes narrowed but his client didn’t see a trap in the question. ‘I’m a trainee at the London branch of a US management consultancy firm.’
‘Does that pay well?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what you’d consider a decent salary. It probably pays a bit more than you get.’
Fallon cleared his throat and Orlando slumped in his chair, obviously irritated at being told off. Irritated was useful for my purposes.
‘What I’m wondering,’ I said slowly, ‘is how can you afford to have Mr Fallon here represent you.’
‘You don’t need to say anything about that.’ Fallon pushed his chair back. ‘This interview is over.’
‘Were you retained by the Chiron Club, Mr Fallon, on Mr Hawkes’ behalf?’
The question was for the lawyer but I was watching Orlando Hawkes. He had a long way to go before he could risk playing poker: that I’d hit the mark was written all over his face.
‘I don’t need to explain how I’m being paid.’ Fallon nudged his client. ‘Come on. We’re finished. Turn off the recorder.’
‘Interview concluded at 1.28 p.m.,’ Liv said into the machine and switched it off.
‘There really are advantages to being a member of the Chiron Club. I wonder what the disadvantages are.’
I said it idly, unthinkingly. Hawkes looked hollow with terror. He had been pushing his chair into place at the table, but he faltered, suddenly clumsy. When he took his hands away, his fingers left sweaty marks on the chair.
‘It’s been a pleasure, Sergeant Kerrigan.’ Fallon nodded at me, his eyes like chips of ice, and I thought he would know me again, if our paths ever crossed. He ushered Hawkes out of the room, one plump hand on his shoulder, steering him away from me so there couldn’t be any more casual chitchat. Liv followed to escort them out and I sat for a few minutes longer, considering what Hawkes had told me deliberately and without intending to. The caffeine had worn off and I was tired. I wanted a break, but I had to deal with Roddy Asquith before I could start to work on Luke Gibson.
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. On the advice of his lawyer, a well-spoken woman with naturally grey hair and a steely, unsmiling manner, Roddy gave a no-comment interview. From start to finish, he didn’t answer a single question, and at the end of it I was truly fed up.
‘This means we’re going to have to ask you the same questions another time. Wouldn’t you rather deal with it now?’
Somewhere around the third question he had settled on staring over my right shoulder. I wasn’t even sure he was listening to me. He barely blinked as he replied, ‘No comment.’
‘She was your friend. You knew her. She was in your house. Don’t you want to help us find the person or people who killed her?’
‘No comment.’
‘Don’t you care?’
‘No comment.’ He said it with all the feeling of a robot. I couldn’t even get him to blush. With disgust, I gave up on him altogether and ended the interview.
‘Frustrating,’ Georgia said happily, swinging into the room after he had departed.
‘I meant what I said. I’ll be speaking to him again. This is not over.’
‘Well, it’s over for now. And you didn’t get anywhere.’ She wasn’t quite gloating, but she wasn’t far off it.
‘I’ve still got Luke Gibson to go.’
‘Can I sit in on that one too?’
‘If you want.’ I yawned so widely my jaw creaked in protest. ‘It’ll probably be just as interesting as the last one.’
‘I saw Gibson when you brought him in.’ She grinned. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be bored.’