Garibaldi waited for Deighton to finish reading the notes. She turned over the page, hooked her glasses off her nose and smiled.
‘It may come as no surprise to learn that Luigi Rivetti’s DNA doesn’t match the DNA found on Giles Gallen.’
‘No surprise at all,’ said Garibaldi. ‘People like Rivetti keep their hands clean. If they want something done they pay someone to do it for them.’
‘But there is some good news,’ said Deighton. ‘Hugo Mountford’s DNA matches the samples found on Emily Francis, Sam Bannister, and Roddy Ireland.’
‘So we’ve got him,’ said Garibaldi.
Deighton leaned back in her chair and sighed. ‘Looks like it.’
‘Still big questions, though. Like who killed Gallen? Like why did Mountford attack and threaten those people? If Mountford’s DNA was over Gallen as well as the others we’d have an answer. He killed Gallen and he wanted to warn all those people, wanted them to keep quiet, not to give any sense that he killed him.’
‘But none of those attacked claimed to know anything at all about who killed Gallen.’ 329
‘If we believe them, that is.’
‘But if they all knew, why wouldn’t they tell us? Why would they lie?’
‘I don’t believe they did know. If they did, at least one of them would have revealed it.’
‘There’s one other possibility we haven’t considered,’ said Deighton. ‘Just because Mountford’s DNA isn’t on Gallen doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved in his murder. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.’
‘Yeah. I’ve thought the same myself. Problem is he says he was at a restaurant with friends. And his alibi sticks. The restaurant confirms a booking in his name and his friends have confirmed it.’
‘OK,’ said Deighton, ‘so looks like he wasn’t there after all.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Garibaldi, ‘Mountford gave us alibis for the nights of the attacks and it was pretty easy to blow them apart. He doesn’t need to know that this one checks out, does he?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that if we forget the alibi and if we tell Mountford we think he might have been there …’
‘I didn’t hear that, Jim. I really didn’t.’
Garibaldi got up and grinned. ‘And I didn’t say it either.’
There was a knock on the door. They both turned.
‘I’ve found something,’ said DS Gardner.
Deighton waved her in, offering her the chair next to Garibaldi.
Gardner sat down. ‘It’s to do with a couple of statements,’ she said. ‘Emily Francis’s and Simon Prest’s. I’ve looked at them again and I’ve gone back over CCTV evidence and it doesn’t all add up. What you see on CCTV doesn’t support what they’ve said.’ 330
Garibaldi looked at his sergeant, impressed.
‘It’s to do with when they left the Red Lion on the night of Gallen’s murder. Gallen left the pub at 10.32. CCTV shows that. And CCTV also shows both Francis and Prest leaving together at 10.36, four minutes after Gallen. So if that’s the case, why did Prest say they left about half an hour afterwards? Could be faulty memory, I suppose. Could be that he’d had a bit too much to drink and it’s all a bit vague. But the thing is Emily Francis said that they left very soon after Giles.’
Gardner took out her notebook and flicked over a few pages. ‘She was quite specific. She said she fancied another drink but Simon was in some kind of hurry.’
‘So the question is,’ said Deighton, ‘why would Prest lie about his time of leaving?’
‘Exactly,’ said Garibaldi, ‘especially as he left with Francis, who would tell a different story. And why would Francis say that Prest was in a hurry? Where did he have to get to? He said he went home, which is just at the other end of Barnes. Why would he be in a hurry?’
‘When did Gallen get that call from Prest?’ said Garibaldi.
‘10.42,’ said Gardner.
‘Right,’ said Garibaldi, ‘so we now know that Gallen at 10.42 wasn’t at the Red Lion. He may have been on his way home. He may even have been on his way to the Old Cemetery. And Prest, who was also now no longer at the pub, calls him to ask if he’d picked up his scarf by mistake.’
Garibaldi looked at DCI Deighton, the word narrative flashing in his head.
Deighton smiled at Gardner. ‘That’s good work. How did we miss it?’
‘I think the attacks kind of took our eye off the ball, took us away from basics. You know, check everything …’ 331
‘We need to talk to Prest,’ said Deighton.
‘We do,’ said Garibaldi. ‘But first I think we need to talk to Hugo Mountford.’
In Interview Room 2 Hugo Mountford sat beside his solicitor opposite Garibaldi and Gardner. The tape was running.
‘Mr Mountford,’ said Garibaldi, ‘we have just received the results of the DNA swabs we took when you came in and the results are interesting.’
He looked across the table at Mountford, and let a silence develop. Silence often worked better than words.
‘Your DNA matches the DNA traces found on the clothing of Emily Francis, Sam Bannister, and Roddy Ireland, all of whom were assaulted at knifepoint and threatened. We’re running more checks on Simon Prest’s clothing.’
Mountford turned to his solicitor who leaned towards him and spoke quietly in his ear.
‘This DNA evidence,’ continued Garibaldi, ‘together with the CCTV footage suggests that you are the man who assaulted the aforementioned people on the nights in question.’
Garibaldi paused and held the gaze of the man opposite.
‘We would also like to know where you were on the night of Giles Gallen’s murder, the night of September 13th?’
‘I’ve told you,’ said Mountford. ‘I was at dinner with friends.’
‘Do you expect us to believe that? You gave alibis for each of those four attacks and none of those checked out. What’s different about this one?’
‘It’s true.’
DS Gardner leaned forward, elbows on desk. ‘Mr Mountford, did you attack those people to frighten them 332into silence, to make them keep quiet about Giles Gallen’s murder?’
‘I didn’t murder Giles Gallen.’
‘But that doesn’t mean,’ said Garibaldi, ‘that you weren’t there.’
Mountford looked surprised. ‘I wasn’t there.’
‘But,’ said Gardner, ‘you were there on the nights those people were assaulted. We have the evidence.’
Mountford’s eyes darted uncertainly from one to the other.
‘Can I remind you of something you said when we interviewed you earlier,’ said Garibaldi. ‘When asked about the attacks and the murder you said, and I quote,’ Garibaldi consulted his notebook, ‘“I didn’t do it and I definitely didn’t murder Giles Gallen.” Does that statement strike you as odd in any way?’
Mountford gave a slow shake of his head.
‘“I didn’t do it and I definitely didn’t murder Giles Gallen”. Why didn’t you say “I definitely didn’t do the attacks? You made it sound like you didn’t kill Gallen but you weren’t so sure about those assaults.’
‘That’s ridiculous. And, anyway, I don’t remember saying that.’
Garibaldi pointed at his notebook. ‘You did. I wrote it down.’
‘If I said it, I didn’t think about it,’ said Mountford. ‘It just came out.’
‘Which makes it all the more revealing, doesn’t it?’ said Garibaldi.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re just words.’
‘I’m not sure about that. When you added that “definitely”, I think you also suggested something else – that 333you definitely know who was behind the murder of Giles Gallen.’
‘This is absurd,’ said Mountford. ‘You’re reading too much into it. One word doesn’t prove anything. I didn’t mean anything. A slip of the tongue. Like I said, it’s only words.’
‘As the Bee Gees once sang.’
‘What?’
‘It’s only words. But, as the song goes on to say, words are all we have. Or maybe it was all I have. Can’t remember. But then memory’s a strange thing, isn’t it? Plays tricks with us, don’t you think?’
Another silence.
‘DNA evidence confirms that you were that man in the puffa jacket hoodie and the lion baseball cap, the hoodie and cap we have removed from your bedroom wardrobe this morning. The game’s up, Hugo. So why don’t you give us some more words. You were there on the night of Giles Gallen’s murder, weren’t you?’
‘I’ve told you. I was at dinner with friends.’
‘We’re not convinced you were.’
‘Check it out. The restaurant. My friends. They’ll tell you.’
‘I think you were in Barnes Old Cemetery on the night of Gallen’s murder. You may not have killed Gallen yourself but you definitely – and I use that word advisedly – you definitely know who did.’
‘I’ve told you. I wasn’t there.’
Garibaldi put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, speaking softly. ‘The thing is, Hugo, there’s a difference between assault at knifepoint and murder. A huge difference. Threatening with a weapon will get you anything between six months and four years. Murder will get you … well, you know what murder will get you, don’t you? Of 334course, if you help us by telling us everything you know it will help your case enormously.’
Garibaldi leaned back in his chair. ‘Think about it. That promising career at the bank. The bank that made Luigi Rivetti a very rich man. Think of that future.’
‘We’re trying to help you, Hugo,’ said Gardner, ‘trying to give you a chance to make it easier for yourself. Why don’t you tell us why, if you didn’t kill Gallen, you assaulted those four people and told them to keep quiet, reminding them of what happened to him?’
‘All of those attacked are connected, aren’t they?’ said Garibaldi. ‘Some work for Forum, one owns Forum. Some are also connected to the Rivettis. So tell us why you attacked them.’
‘I didn’t attack them.’
‘Remember,’ said Garibaldi. ‘Whoever killed Giles Gallen is looking at something life-changing, something from which they might never recover. Someone, on the other hand, who owns up to what they have done, who tells us what they know …’
‘I didn’t do it.’
Mountford looked up to the ceiling. Was he praying? Was he making some final decision?
‘But I did attack those people.’
Garibaldi’s body relaxed. He shot a glance at Gardner who returned a smile.
‘And why did you do that?’ said Garibaldi.
‘I shouldn’t have done it. Once Giles was killed that was it. I shouldn’t have said yes.’
‘What do you mean? Did someone ask you?’
Mountford froze, checking himself. Was he about to change his mind?
He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’ 335
‘Try me.’
Mountford held his head in his hands. ‘I never thought I’d do this. I don’t believe it. Everything. I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I can’t do this.’
‘Hugo,’ said Gardner, ‘we want to know why you attacked those people and we want to know how that is connected to the murder of Giles Gallen. Do you know why Giles Gallen was murdered?’
Mountford bowed his head again.
‘Was it because of his work for the Rivettis?’ said Garibaldi.
His head was still down.
‘Was it connected to something he knew about them? Was it to do with something that happened when he was working for them in the summer?’
Mountford’s head came up slowly.
‘I don’t know why I did it. I felt I had to.’
Garibaldi and Gardner exchanged looks.
‘Someone made you attack those people?’
Mountford looked from one to the other. Garibaldi looked at his eyes. They were blank and distant. Something had gone.
‘I wasn’t the one behind Gallen’s murder. It was him.’
‘Him?’ said Garibaldi, leaning forward and looking into Mountford’s eyes, trying to connect with them. ‘Are you saying that Luigi Rivetti is responsible for the murder of Giles Gallen?’
Mountford continued to turn between Garibaldi and Gardner, a cornered animal, wide-eyed in its search for escape.
‘You don’t understand,’ he said, ‘He had got himself into such a mess. He needed my help. I didn’t want to let him down.’ 336
Mountford was staring into space, addressing no-one in particular. He was talking as if in a dream. Garibaldi wondered what was happening to him. Did he need to call a doctor?
‘Can we get this straight, Hugo?’ said Gardner. ‘Luigi Rivetti had Giles Gallen killed and asked you to attack and threaten Emily Francis, Sam Bannister, Simon Prest and Roddy Ireland. Is that correct?’
Mountford’s gaze was still distant, fixed just above eye level. It was as if he was in a trance.
‘Just tell us, Hugo,’ said Garibaldi. ‘Tell us and we can get this thing done. If you tell the whole truth it’ll be easier for you.’
Still nothing. If anything, Mountford seemed even more removed from reality.
‘Tell us about Luigi Rivetti, Hugo. Tell us what he did.’
Still no response. Mountford’s mouth dropped open but no words came.
‘Tell us why you attacked those people,’ said Gardner. ‘Was it because they knew Mr Rivetti had murdered Giles Gallen?’
‘He didn’t murder him,’ said Mountford, his eyes still fixed ahead, his face still frozen.
‘So he didn’t do it himself,’ said Garibaldi, ‘but he got someone to do it for him. Is that right? Is that what happened? Tell us what you know, Hugo.’
‘You don’t understand.’
Garibaldi leaned across the table, his head down, looking up at Mountford, trying to make contact, trying to bring him back from wherever he had gone.
‘Hugo, tell us about Luigi Rivetti.’
Suddenly Mountford’s body jolted and his face came back to life. He looked around, as if he’d just woken up from a disturbing dream. 337
He turned his eyes to Garibaldi.
‘Luigi Rivetti?’ he said. ‘Luigi Rivetti’s got nothing to do with it.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Garibaldi. ‘You said—’
‘It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Rivetti. One of us had gone and the other, the other …’
Garibaldi looked away and in the corner of the interview room he saw his mother again, bent over his jumper, sewing a label into its neck. He was eleven again, about to start at grammar school. A new school. New friends. New challenges. And there was his mother stitching in his identity with no sense of what lay ahead, of how his schooldays would be marred by tragedy.
Garibaldi blinked.
His mother was gone.
He turned back to Mountford. His last words echoed in his head. One of us had gone. And the other …
Garibaldi suddenly saw something else.
He leaned forward again. ‘Hugo,’ he said softly, ‘tell me about the Three Musketeers.’
Mountford’s face flushed. He looked at Garibaldi through narrowed eyes, pained, puzzled.
‘What? How—?’
‘The Three Musketeers. Tell me about them.’
‘I don’t see how—’
Mountford bowed his head. When he raised it, he looked as if he had shrunk, as if he was a little boy again, a tearful, frightened schoolboy.
‘Strange thing to call yourselves, isn’t it? I mean, had any of you read it? But then I guess it wasn’t the chivalry, was it? It was more the motto, that little saying, wasn’t it?’
‘Look,’ said Mountford, ‘it’s not what you think. I—’
‘What do I think, Hugo? Tell me.’ 338
Mountford rested his head on his hands.
‘One of the strangest things about Giles Gallen’s murder,’ said Garibaldi, ‘was the way we identified him. Do you know how we did that, Hugo?’
Mountford kept his head down.
‘We did it from his clothes, Hugo. From his jumper. He was wearing a jumper with his name tag sewn into the back of the neck. You know – the kind of jumper you wear when you’re at school. And in this case it was the jumper Giles wore at school. At Radley. So tell me about the Three Musketeers, Hugo.’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘I know you didn’t, Hugo. But I now know who did. So tell me.’
Mountford looked up. He said nothing for a while, his eyes darting round the room, his lips tight. Then, in a quiet voice, he started to speak.
‘There’s this cemetery. We used to go there, the three of us …’
Garibaldi leant forward and listened.