Moran was taken aback when DCS Blake walked into his office, accompanied by a subdued-looking man that Moran hadn’t seen before.
Blake shook Moran’s hand. “Good to see you, Nick. This is Andrew Hastings. He’s just been discharged from King’s and I’m taking him home, but I thought we’d pop in here first. I’ve explained that you need to speak to him about his mother and her last known movements, as it will assist the investigation.”
Moran shook hands with Hastings. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Hastings. Please take a seat. Are you feeling better? It must have been terribly traumatic for you.”
“Obviously I’m still deeply shocked, but under the circumstances I’m bearing up.” Andrew sat in the chair on the other side of Moran’s desk, opposite him.
Blake looked at Andrew. “DCI Moran won’t keep you any longer than necessary, as he understands you need to be with your wife and children at this sad time.”
Moran didn’t want to interview Hastings in Blake’s presence without another officer there. “With your permission, I’d like to ask someone in to take notes of our conversation.”
Hastings frowned. “Is that really necessary?”
Blake nodded to Hastings. “It will speed things up, Andrew. Notes need to be taken and made into a statement. The statement can be put together in your absence and you can read and sign it later.”
“Please excuse me whilst I see who’s free in the CID office. I’ll organize some coffee as well.” Moran stood up and left the room.
Jane was on the phone when Moran approached her. She looked up at him and mouthed “nearly finished.”
“I’m really sorry, Agnes . . . If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.” Jane put the phone down and turned to Moran. “Agnes went to the hospital this morning to see Andrew Hastings. He informed her that she was no longer needed as a housekeeper and would have to find somewhere else to live.”
“Heartless bastard! Seems he’s not as shocked about his mother’s death as he likes to make out.”
“His behavior is very odd,” Jane added.
“Blake’s just brought him in from the hospital for an informal interview about his mother. I want you to take the notes whilst I talk to Hastings, with Blake in attendance.”
Jane was surprised. “I thought you didn’t want me or Gibbs anywhere near Hastings or Blake? Wouldn’t it be better if you used Edwards?”
“No. You know from what Gibbs found out at the golf club that Hastings is lying.”
“Then surely Gibbs should sit in,” Jane replied.
“The interview needs a subtle approach. I can’t risk using Gibbs as he’s got it in for both of them and is liable to let rip with his accusations, which won’t help if Blake lies to me again.”
“You’ve already spoken to Blake?” Jane asked, taken aback.
Moran hesitated. “Yesterday, late afternoon. I asked him if he’d spoken to Hastings about his mother’s murder and he said he hadn’t. I’m beginning to think there may be some substance to Gibbs’ belief that Blake is hiding something. I don’t know why, but I just hope and pray it’s nothing to do with the murders. It could all turn nasty. I need someone present to cover my back and take notes of everything that’s said. Are you OK with that?”
“Yes, sir,” Jane replied, glad that Moran trusted her and relied on her integrity. “Will you be asking Hastings about both murders?”
“We’ll start with his mother’s and see what happens. I need you to grovel a bit and apologize to Hastings about the way he found his mother’s body. We need to keep him sweet.”
Jane realized that the more Andrew Hastings thought he had the upper hand, the more crushing it would be when Moran tripped him with up his lies.
“Do you mind getting some coffee and biscuits while I tell them that you’ll be taking the notes?”
Jane made her way to the canteen whilst Moran returned to his office.
“I know it may not be to your liking, Mr. Hastings, but the only officer available to take notes is WDS Tennison.”
Hastings sighed. “Well, let’s hope she’s a better note-taker than she is an investigator.”
Although Moran had only just met Hastings, he could understand why Gibbs thought he was an arrogant prick.
Carrying the tray of hot drinks and biscuits, Jane used her foot to knock on Moran’s office door. It was opened by Blake. On seeing Jane, he took a step back to get a better look and asked if she was DS Tennison.
“Yes, sir,” Jane replied.
This was the first time Jane had met Blake. He was in his late forties, around 5′10″, and was wearing a dark blue three-piece pin-striped suit and shiny black shoes. His greased-back black hair and staring eyes made him look like Bela Lugosi, the famous Dracula actor. She thought Blake might at least have had the manners to take the tray from her, and could almost feel him leering at her bottom as she leant over and placed the tray on Moran’s desk. She turned to Andrew Hastings and handed him a coffee.
“I’d like to apologize, Mr. Hastings. I’m sorry your mother’s body wasn’t found earlier, and I can’t begin to imagine how you must be feeling. I want you to know we will do everything we can to find who did this terrible thing to Mrs. Hastings.”
“Let’s hope so,” Hastings said bluntly.
“We all learn from our mistakes, Tennison, and DCI Moran tells me you’re one of his best officers,” Blake said ingratiatingly.
Moran handed Jane a large notebook and pen, before picking up a chair and placing it to the left of his. He invited Jane to sit down, with Andrew Hastings sitting opposite him. Blake remained standing. Moran started the questioning by asking Hastings for his mother’s full name and date of birth. They then spent a bit of time going over Sybil’s background, from the time she met Henry and married him, to Henry’s death and then her move to Viceroy Court.
“We are pretty sure your mother wasn’t killed during a robbery as none of her property seems to have been taken—other than her car keys. Do you know if your mother had any enemies, or anyone she’d argued with recently?” Moran asked.
Hastings eyes were red as he shook his head. “No, there’s no one I can think of. If she had, I’m certain she would have said something to me. My mother was a kind and generous woman. She didn’t have a bad bone in her body. It’s totally beyond me why anyone would want to hurt her. She was a Samaritan, you know.”
“Yes, Agnes told DS Tennison about her Samaritan work. DS Tennison visited the Soho branch to see if there was a link.”
“Was there?” Andrew asked, with a concerned look.
Jane answered. “We don’t know yet, Mr. Hastings. They’re still helping us with our enquiries.”
“I once asked her about her work there. She told me it was private and confidential and that she’d never reveal it to anyone. Why would someone she tried to help want to kill her?” Hastings asked, welling up.
Jane felt that Hastings was being genuine and wondered if Gibbs was wrong about him, and was making his suspicions fit a preconceived notion of guilt because he disliked him. Moran then turned the subject to the last time Hastings had seen his mother. Andrew said it was on Tuesday, when they played a round of golf at the Coombe Hill club together. He had also spoken to her on the Thursday about playing that Sunday, but she had told him she was going to be busy.
“Did your mother say anything about what she was doing on the Friday or at the weekend?” Moran asked.
“No, not a thing. When Agnes phoned me on Sunday morning, I thought my mother might have gone to a hotel on her own for the weekend.”
“Has she done that before?” Jane asked.
“Yes, a few times she’s gone to the Grand in Brighton, but usually in the summertime, and she lets us know beforehand.”
Moran told him they’d check with the Grand, just in case his mother had been there. Moran looked at his watch and told Hastings there were just a few more questions he needed to ask.
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Mr. Hastings, but I need to ask you what you were doing on Friday and Saturday.”
Jane noticed a slight change in Hastings’ demeanor. He licked his lips and sat up, but before he could reply, Blake stepped forward and put his hand on Hastings’ shoulder.
“I’ve explained to Andrew that he might be asked some probing questions about his movements in order to eliminate him from the investigation. He understands that it’s ‘par for the course.’” Blake laughed at his own golf pun.
Hastings forced a smile. “I realize you have a job to do, DCI Moran, but I can assure you I didn’t kill my mother. Even though she was planning to leave everything to me in her will, she had already put what money she had into a trust for her grandchildren. I do inherit the flat, but I helped her buy it with my own funds. After my father died, I took my mother in and paid for everything, even setting up a monthly income from the family business, which is paid directly into her bank account.”
Moran looked at Jane. She wondered if he, like her, thought Hastings was becoming a bit defensive. Moran turned back to Hastings.
“It is obvious that you cared a great deal for your mother, but you haven’t answered my question regarding your movements on the Friday and Saturday.”
Hastings sighed. “On Friday I was playing golf all day at Coombe Hill with Michael, then I attended the club dinner in the evening.” He looked at Blake, who nodded.
“Yes, that’s right. The bar closed at midnight and Andrew went home at around half twelve,” Blake stated.
“I got back home just after one a.m. and went straight to bed.” Hastings sat back in his chair and once again looked at Blake.
Jane felt as if she was watching a rehearsed play, in which Hastings and Blake were the lead characters, trying to convince the audience they were honest, upright citizens. It was clear to her that the two of them were lying. Jane looked at Moran again, who appeared uneasy and hesitant.
Blake noticed Jane’s expression. “Is something wrong, Sergeant Tennison?”
“No, sir, I was just trying to indicate to DCI Moran that I’m ready for him to ask the next question.”
Moran looked at Blake, then back at Hastings. “I believe you won a medal on Friday for coming second in the golf competition?” Moran asked.
Hastings frowned and directed his answer at Blake. “What’s that got to do with my mother’s murder?”
Blake stared at Moran. “I don’t know, Andrew. As it happens, I forgot to tell you that you left your medal on the table at the dinner, so I took it home for safekeeping.”
Moran shook his head and sighed with disbelief at the unashamed way Blake was protecting Hastings.
Blake continued. “Andrew is obviously tired and emotional and should be with his family. It seems to me he’s told us everything he can, so I think we should call it a day for now and I’ll take him home.” Blake grabbed his coat from the stand in the corner of the room.
“I’d be happy to conclude the interview when you and Mr. Hastings tell me the truth about where he really was on the Friday evening,” Moran said calmly.
“I object to your insinuations!” Hastings shouted.
Blake put his hand on Hastings’ shoulder to calm him down, glaring at Moran.
“As I said, Nick, it’s best we terminate this interview.”
“You getting all of this down, Tennison?” Moran asked irately, looking at Blake and Hastings.
“Yes, sir, I am. Every word.” Jane sided with Moran.
Moran flexed his shoulders and took out his notebook. “DI Gibbs attended Coombe Hill golf club yesterday and made enquiries about Sybil Hastings. Major Whitehead, whom I’m sure you both know well, told DI Gibbs that Andrew Hastings didn’t stay for the prize-giving meal as he’d gone home because one of his children was unwell.”
“Well, he’s obviously mistaken me for someone else, hasn’t he, Michael?” Hastings looked at Blake for support, but Blake remained quiet. Hastings continued. “I find it disgraceful that DI Gibbs is able to go around tarnishing my good name at the golf club.”
Moran wanted to make them both sweat. “Actually, it was DCS Blake who told the major you had gone home, and the major told Gibbs that he gave Blake your runners-up medal.” Moran turned and looked at Blake, frowning. “Why are you lying for him?”
Blake licked his lips and asked Jane to leave the room so he could “discuss things in private” with DCI Moran. As Jane stood up, Moran put his hand on her arm to indicate that she should sit down again.
“Tennison stays, and if Mr. Hastings continues to lie, I will arrest him on suspicion of murder.”
“I didn’t kill my mother!” Hastings shouted at Moran.
“He’s telling the truth, and I know that as fact,” Blake said.
“Well, you’re both doing a good job of perverting the course of justice.”
Blake looked at Hastings. “This is getting out of hand, Andrew. For God’s sake, just explain where you were.”
Hastings sighed and lowered his head. “I was with Katie Oliver, the wife of another club member who was at the golf dinner. Knowing Katie would be at home on her own, I skipped the meal and prize-giving to go and see her.”
“You are having a relationship with her, I take it?” Moran asked, and Hastings nodded. “How long were you with her for that night?”
“From about six p.m. until just after midnight, when Michael phoned me to say that Katie’s husband had just left the club. I got home about quarter to one and went to bed.”
“I’ll have to speak with Mrs. Oliver to confirm that what you have told me is true.”
Blake looked subdued. “I can confirm he was there. I called Katie Oliver’s house from the golf club. She answered, then I spoke to Andrew to tell him it was time to leave as her husband was on his way home. If you must speak to her, then I’d be grateful if you did it at the station and off the record, to prevent her husband from finding out the situation.”
Moran agreed. He knew that Blake was more concerned about his own reputation, especially if Mr. Oliver found out Blake was aware Hastings was screwing his wife.
Moran opened his desk drawer, took out a prepared pro forma and slid it across the table to Hastings.
“Sign that, please. And before you ask, it’s an authority for me to have access to all your personal and business bank accounts.”
Hastings looked at the form and slid it back towards Moran. “No. You know I didn’t kill my mother, so you’ve no right to look into my personal or business affairs.”
Moran looked smug. Jane sensed he wanted to teach Hastings and Blake a lesson and she was right.
“I can’t rule out that you didn’t pay someone to kill your mother while you were with your mistress. If needs be, I will go to court and get a judge’s order on the grounds that you lied in a murder investigation and that you are a suspect—which won’t look too good for you or DCS Blake.”
“Sign the fucking form, Andrew!” Blake bellowed.
Hastings reluctantly signed the form.
“You can go now,” Moran said to a visibly furious Hastings.
Jane was impressed by Moran’s calm restraint. She couldn’t believe how stupid Blake had been to risk his career for someone like Andrew Hastings. Perhaps Hastings did have something on Blake? Jane’s thoughts were interrupted as Moran told her to take Hastings downstairs whilst he continued to speak to DCS Blake.
After everyone else had left the room, Moran looked Blake in the eyes.
“You caused me and my team to waste valuable time with Hastings. All you had to do was speak to me in private about his affair and where he was, then we could have avoided all of this confrontation. Has he got something on—?”
Blake anticipated the question. “I’m not corrupt, and he hasn’t got anything on me. It was a little lie to the major that got out of hand. I was just trying to stop any scandal breaking out in the clubhouse about Andrew and Katie Oliver, that’s all. It was silly of me and I apologize.”
Moran had a good idea why Blake had lied. “This is the Freemasons’ old pals act, isn’t it? He’s lied for you when you’ve been out of line.”
Blake looked annoyed. “My private life has nothing to do with you.”
“When you lie in a murder investigation, it bloody well does. But don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep a lid on it . . . for now.”
“And what about DS Tennison?” Blake asked.
Moran said that he would speak to her, but couldn’t guarantee her silence.
Blake picked up his coat. “If there’s anything more you need to assist your investigation then just ask.”
Moran shook his head. “I don’t need anything from you, Blake. It might be best if you take yourself off the investigation. You could always injure yourself playing golf!”
“You know I can’t do that without the top brass asking questions. But I’ll give you free rein to investigate the murders and keep myself in the background.”
“I can live with that. I’ll keep you updated on any developments.”
Blake nodded and left the room.
Moran sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He was exhausted, and realized he was back at square one. He had two victims, one still unidentified, and although he felt the murders were probably linked in some way, he had no evidence to prove it. Did he have one or two killers on the loose? Or worse: two men acting together, who had a lust for attacking and killing women of any age? Whatever the case, he knew he had to find who was responsible before there was another murder.
Taking a deep breath, straightened the papers on his desk. His office phone rang and, picking it up, he heard his baby son wailing in the background.
“Yes, I’ll be home soon, Fiona . . .”