“Don’t the police usually escort people into the station and not out the door?” Dannel had waited for the constable to return to the building before commenting. “What exactly did Haider think we’d do if left alone in his office?”
“Rummage through his files for information?” Osian sat on one of the brick walls on either side of the steps. “Why don’t I text Roland? He’s probably not in the interrogation room. He might be able to fill us in on what’s happening.”
Sitting on the wall opposite him, Dannel tried not to notice the constable keeping an eye on them from inside the station. He pulled out his own phone. A little research would help make the time pass by more quickly.
What was the victim’s name again?
Barry Shallow?
No. Bugger. Why am I always so pants at remembering names and faces?
“Barnaby Sharrow.” He cringed and lowered his voice immediately. One day I’ll be able to not shout everything. It’ll be brilliant. Osian caught his attention, obviously interested in what he’d found. He read off from the Adam Street Chambers website. “Barnaby Sharrow. Defence Barrister. Experienced in difficult and sensitive cases. A talented courtroom advocate dedicated to working with you and your solicitor to advance your case.”
“Quite the CV. Was he a junior barrister, or had he progressed to Queen’s Counsel?”
“He’s not taken the silk yet,” Dannel recalled the term Wayne often used for those who’d been appointed to the respected role. “His wife works on the clerk’s team at the Adam Street Chambers.”
“Does she?” Osian came over to sit beside him. “Maybe she caught him having an affair.”
An affair was definitely a motive. They’d discussed so many crimes on their podcast involving one partner killing the other over cheating. She was definitely on the top of his list of suspects.
He figured the police would be investigating her. They had to be. If nothing else, Haider tended to be incredibly thorough in solving his cases.
“Or he caught her.” Dannel continued perusing the website. “They’ve defended a number of high-profile characters based on the cases they list.”
“Defence barristers usually do. Everyone deserves good representation, whether guilty or not.” Osian motioned for him to click on one of the links. “Any names amongst the barristers stand out?”
“Not really.” Dannel scrolled through the long list of barristers. “I wonder if Barnaby lost anyone else’s case like he did for Wayne’s clients.”
A quick internet search brought up several articles about Barnaby, including one about his death. Dannel skimmed each one. He dismissed most of them as useless.
“Willa claimed the judge was an old friend of Judie Sharrow née Astley.” Osian had his phone out as well. “Hamnet Allsop. Let’s see what we can find out about him. Well, he looks like someone straight out of one of Ian’s plays.”
Hamnet Allsop looked exactly like his name sounded to Dannel. A member of the wealthy upper crust of society, friends with members of parliament and other dignitaries. He’d gone to all the right schools, knew all the right people, and had a country estate to retreat to in the summer as if they were still living in Edwardian times.
“I imagine boarding school wasn’t a walk in the park with a name like Hamnet.” Dannel did an internet search cross-referencing the judge’s name with Barnaby Sharrow. “Interesting. Loads of articles about him in connection with the Astley family.”
“What about Sharrow?”
“Not much. Most of the articles mention Judie Astley.” Dannel clicked on an article with a family name. “Solicitor Willa Abraham and her client Satish Misra blame Barrister Barnaby Sharrow for the loss of his suit against his employer. Mr Misra claims Sharrow mishandled evidence in his case, costing him potentially millions.”
Osian glanced up from reading the article along with Dannel. “Here we go.”
Dannel followed his gaze to find Roland, Wayne, and his solicitor coming out of the station. “Finally.”
“Have you two been giving the detectives a hard time?” Wayne gave them both a tired smile. He leaned into Roland, who had an arm around him. “I could do with something to eat. Sorry, you’ve missed your game.”
“Sod the game.” Osian jumped off the wall. “Why don’t we pick something up and head over to our flat? It’s comfortable and private.”
“Both equally important.” Dannel teetered on the edge of being overstimulated from the stress and chaos of the morning. He hated when their schedule changed rapidly without warning. “Why don’t we swing by Pizza Pilgrims? Grab enough for the five of us if your solicitor wants to join us.”
“Bradley Nichols, life saver. Meet Roland’s brother, Dannel, and his tag along, Osian Garey.” Wayne peered behind him at the police station. “Shall we? You’re more than welcome to join us, Nichols, unless you’ve work to be done.”
“On a weekend? I’m supposed to be enjoying a bit of rest and relaxation.” Bradley didn’t bat an eyelid when Osian shook his hand, but Dannel simply waved. “Since I’ve the only vehicle, why don’t I give everyone a lift? Just point me in the right direction.”
After a bit of conferring, Roland headed to Wayne’s flat to keep an eye on the police presence there. He made them promise to keep him informed. Dannel could see the worry on his brother’s face.
Who could blame him?
Bradley Nichols reminded Dannel of a solicitor from a show on the telly. He had the gravity of one. Like he’d burst into a rousing speech at any second to win his case.
While they made their way to Pizza Pilgrims, Dannel stared out the window. He was dying to know what had happened in Wayne’s conversation with detectives. Had they given him any details?
Anything at all?
Through the drive and picking up pizza, Wayne remained silent. He checked his phone obsessively. Dannel was content to let Osian and Bradley chat.
There was nothing wrong with a bit of silence.
Nothing.
When they arrived home, Dannel remembered to check the score of the game. He’d completely forgotten. Their teams tied.
Brilliant.
Chelsea nil, Tottenham nil.
Well, at least Ossie can’t lord it over me that his team won or has jumped up the table.
After setting the box in his hand on the coffee table, Dannel fled to the bedroom. He sat on the mattress and took a moment to centre his mind. Ossie can handle things for a few minutes. He’s better at small talk with strangers. “What an absolutely bizarre turn of events.”