Nicki
The next morning, before we continue questioning Andrew Buckley, there’s something on my mind that I haven’t been able to settle.
“Sir, do we know how long Andrew Buckley’s affair with Stephanie Hampton went on?”
He frowns. “I don’t know. Why d’you ask?”
“It may be nothing. But I want to check something out. I need to talk to James Hampton again.”
* * *
In the interview room, James Hampton wears the resignation of a condemned man.
“I need to ask you about your wife’s affair with Andrew Buckley.” I watch as his face clouds over. “Can you recall when it started?”
“I don’t know for sure, but something changed last summer. She was suddenly out much more. I knew she was busy with wedding flowers—I put it down to that. But she seemed brighter than she had in a long time. I put that down to her work, too. She loved what she did. Now I realize, she was with him.”
“Can you narrow it down to a month?” I watch him closely, knowing that if he says what I think he’s going to say, there are huge implications for Andrew Buckley.
He tries to work it out. “My birthday’s the first week in August. Everything was fine, then. The Buckleys even came to my birthday party. I remember catching Stephanie talking to him. It seemed harmless enough and I didn’t think anything of it. But it was after that, she was different somehow.”
“You’re sure?”
He nods. Then he frowns. “A week later, I came in from the pub. I’d been having a drink with a couple of people. Buckley was one of them. Just before he left, he bought me a pint...” His laugh is hollow. “Then when I got home, his car was pulling out of our drive. When I went in, Stephanie said he’d called in to drop off some blood test results. I had no reason not to believe her. And by then, I had other things on my mind.” His voice trails off.
By other things, I take it to mean his financial worries and his ongoing involvement with Mason, even before Andrew Buckley was seducing his wife.
After leaving him, I find Emerson. “Did you see Elise Buckley last night?”
He nods. “I called in an hour after I spoke to you. She was alright. Nervous, awkward . . . Didn’t really want me there.”
“OK. Thanks, anyway. I’ll talk to her later.”
Then I make a phone call that will tell me everything I need to know.
* * *
In contrast to James Hampton, Andrew Buckley’s demeanor is one of outrage. When I walk in with the DI, he immediately gets up. “As soon as I’m out of here, I will be reporting this and all of you, for the appalling way I’ve been treated.”
The DI stands there, an imposing figure as he stares across the table at him. “Sit down, Dr. Buckley. Before you go anywhere, we have more questions we need you to answer.”
“I’m not saying a word until McClure gets here.”
The DI folds his arms. “Fair enough. In that case, we’ll wait.”
An hour passes, in which I watch as Andrew Buckley starts to look like a caged animal. Experience tells me he’s close to cracking. As the time approaches eleven fifteen, he gets up. “This is ridiculous,” he snaps, just as the door opens and McClure comes in.
“Apologies for keeping you.” Taking off his jacket, he sits down.
The DI shuffles the papers in front of him. “Right. Shall we get on with this? A question for you, Dr. Buckley. When did your affair with Stephanie Hampton begin?”
“I can’t remember exactly.”
“Well, give me a month. Spring? Summer?” I wouldn’t mind betting he knows the exact date.
“September.”
As the DI glances at me, I catch his eye. “So it must have been after that when Hollie made the appointment with you, where she caused such a song and dance?”
“It must have been.” His eyes swivel between me and the DI.
“Dr. Buckley. You’ve told us that she asked you to stay away from her stepmother. Therefore, it stands to reason that you were already having the affair when Hollie came to see you.”
Folding his arms, he glares at the DI. “I have no idea what you’re getting at, Detective Inspector.”
“Incidentally, that ties in with what James Hampton remembers.” When the DI glances at me, I take over. “Though he thinks it probably started in August. Anyway, I called your practice this morning, Dr. Buckley. According to their records, the incident with Hollie took place on the thirtieth of May.”
He blinks, just once. “Then they’ve made a mistake.”
“I hardly think so. I mean, the practice manager remembered it very well. I spoke to her this morning—and it would be negligent, wouldn’t it, to make a mistake recording something like that?”
When he doesn’t respond, the DI leans forward. “I don’t think there’s any doubt that Hollie had an axe to grind, but it wasn’t about your affair with Stephanie Hampton. So my question is, what was it about?”
Rigid, Andrew Buckley leans back in his chair, his arms still folded. “I’d like a moment with my lawyer.”
* * *
Outside the interview room, I glance at the DI.
“Nice work, May.”
“Thank you, sir.” I frown. “But we still don’t know what Hollie had against him. There’s something he’s definitely keeping from us.”
The DI nods. “When we go back in, I’ll ask him about Mason.”
* * *
Back in the interview room, Andrew Buckley catches my eye, holding my gaze too long before looking away.
“Dr. Buckley, I understand you often drink in the village pub with one or two other villagers. Anyone in particular?” The DI gets straight to the point.
“Not really. There are a number of locals who I regularly see in there. James Hampton being one, as you already know.”
“Julian Calder?” The DI’s face is implacable. “Philip Mason?”
As Andrew Buckley nods, his eyes narrow slightly. “As I told you, Detective Inspector, there are a number of regulars in there.”
The DI pauses, but only briefly. As he speaks, he scrutinizes Andrew Buckley’s face. “Did you know that James Hampton was investing in a business that belongs to Philip Mason?”
“I’d heard some vague mention of it. Yes.”
“What exactly did you hear?”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t specific. Mason makes a lot of money. I don’t know exactly how. He was trying to give Hampton a helping hand. It’s obvious the man struggles.” His brusque, patronizing manner does him no favors.
The DI frowns. “What did you know about the Hamptons’ finances?”
“Nothing.” He stares straight at us. “Stephanie didn’t mention anything, if that’s what you’re asking, Detective Inspector.”
And so it goes on. An hour later, we’re none the wiser. On the subject of his relationship with Mason, Andrew Buckley refuses to be drawn, insisting on his story that they see each other only occasionally in the pub. When it comes to Hollie, other than declaring her emotionally unstable, he can supply no credible explanation for her behavior in the surgery.
“Maybe she blamed me in some way for what happened to Dylan,” he says eventually. “She probably thought I should have been able to stop him. I can’t think of any other explanation for what she did.”
* * *
That afternoon, I drive over to see Elise Buckley. When she opens the door, she looks as though she hasn’t slept.
“I really wish I hadn’t started this.” Overnight, her face seems to have grown gaunt, so that her eyes seem huge, desperate. “I’ve made everything so much worse.”
“You haven’t,” I tell her, knowing her guilt stems from years of brainwashing by her husband. “And you haven’t done anything wrong. This is all about your husband. You need to remember that.”
But my words seem to go over her head. “Niamh’s beside herself. She went to school, but she’s worried that when she comes out, Andrew will be there waiting for her.”
“Andrew won’t be going anywhere fast,” I tell her. “We’re still interviewing him.” I pause, watching as she wrings her hands. “Listen. You have to take action. If you don’t, what are you saying to Niamh? That it’s OK to be bullied and beaten by your husband? That you’re supposed to stay put instead of leaving him? Imagine Niamh in a few years’ time. Yes, it will be difficult, but if you act, you will be empowering her. You have the chance to show her you’re strong. No one believes Andrew when he claims you’re unstable. You’re not going to lose your job. Anyway, he’s already said in front of us that he wants a divorce. You need a good lawyer who understands coercive control and domestic abuse, so that you can get things set in motion as soon as possible.”
Our conversation is interrupted by my phone buzzing with an unfamiliar number. “Excuse me a moment.”
I turn away from Elise. “May.” After listening with interest, I end the call. “I’m sorry. I have to make one call. I won’t be a minute.” Going outside, I put a call through to the DI.
“Sir? I’ve just heard from the estate agent who measured up Mason’s house. Mason’s been in touch—apparently he’s asked the agent to meet him there later today.”