‘Sergeant, could you show Mr Mars to the most comfortable room and fetch him a drink. There are procedures to follow, I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.’
As the Desk Sergeant led Patrick Mars off and away through the security doors and into the inner sanctum of the police station, from the now vacated reception Grey checked himself and his reactions: quickened breathing, clattering heart-rate, clammy hands, his shirt damp with fresh perspiration beneath his suit jacket. He found his phone and pressed the buttons to get it calling.
‘East Anglia?’ the Sergeant was asking Tim Hart in the library.
‘Sorry?’
‘The University of East Anglia, you said. You’re a long way from home.’
‘Well, so was Charles Quale, the founder of the first telegraph office in Norwich, when he arrived there after leaving these parts.’
‘So that’s who you’re looking up?’
But any hope at further conversation was interrupted by her phone’s urgent ringing. Without a librarian nearby, she risked answering it there and then, though speaking extra-quietly,
‘Sir?’
‘Cori? You still at the library?’
‘Yes, looking up Council records.’
‘Forget it, get here in five minutes.’
‘Right oh.’
Tim Hart saw her new expression,
‘Bad news?’
‘No, but I do have to leave this, just as I was getting started.’
He considered, then offered, ‘Look, I’m pretty much done here for today. Give me your names and dates and I’ll drop something in for you later.’
Pausing only to scribble the names and thank him, Cori left to meet the Inspector at the station.
‘The most comfortable room’ found for Patrick Mars by the Desk Sergeant was in fact the interview room with the mirrored one-way glass wall, which by the time the Inspector had freshened up and arrived at the viewing area the other side of that wall, found its occupants already comprised the Superintendent as well as what must have been most of the staff not at that moment unavoidably employed around the station.
Sergeant Smith appeared right behind him,
‘Sir?’
He led her back to the corridor and to the window inset within the door to the interview room proper,
‘Patrick Mars, Stella’s son.’
‘Why’s he come?’
‘Lord knows. Sarah already had his name, we were seconds from calling him.’
Inspector Glass, the head of Southney station’s uniformed division, was also there, whispering in his counterpart’s ear,
‘Is that Patrick Mars?’
‘Yes, you know him?’
‘In a sense — he runs a private security firm we’ve run up against from time to time.’
‘I knew I’d heard the name.’
‘Mars Protection; basically a lot of ex-police and soldiers hired by anyone who wants no niceties involved in removing unwanted persons from their property.’
‘Ex-soldiers… So has he served himself?’
‘No idea, but if your asking if he’s violent, then, to mangle the Good Book, through a man’s business practices shall we know he.’
Grey was quite impressed with this. The Superintendent came out of the secret room to stand beside them,
‘You good for this, Grey?’
‘If I’m not then it’s a bit late to find out.’
‘What’s your angle going to be?’
‘A friendly chat, thank him for coming. After all, we don’t know to know any more yet, do we?’
Not wanting to make the man suspicious, the officers took no longer over preparations than necessary before casually bursting into the interview room the moment after drinks had been delivered. For similar reasons no extra officers were posted in the room, or in the corridor within view from the window in the door. As they entered Grey and Cori each took in the man sat before then: Grey noting his bulk and looking for evil in his eyes; Cori that his dirty nails were incongruous with his general appearance. A devil to get out, she remembered, he had evidently been in the garden before smartening the rest of himself up to come here.
Grey began,
‘Mr Mars, this is Sergeant Smith. Thank you for waiting. I see they’ve got you a drink. We’ll be recording our talk for the file, it’s standard procedure.’
‘I hope this won’t take any longer than necessary? I am a very busy man.’
‘Indeed. You run a security company, I believe?’
The man again seemed mildly surprised at what they already knew about him, Grey not wanting to let on just how they were winging this,
‘Rest assured that we’ll try and get through this as quickly as possible, brevity being the soul of wit and all that. So, perhaps you could begin by giving your reasons for coming to see us today.’
‘Thank you. Yes, well how simply can I put it for you? I saw the news announced of the murder of my mother in this morning’s paper.’
‘It must have been a terrible shock for you,’ asked Cori.
‘Is that a statement or a question? Of course it was a shock, a terrible shock.’
‘When had you last been in touch?’
‘When she left my father.’
‘Which was?’
‘When I was seven years old.’
‘Tell us about that,’ charged Grey.
‘Well, what’s there to tell? My parents split up and I lived with my father.’
‘You didn’t see her at all though?’
‘She chose to have nothing more to do with us. I was bought up by a father that loved me, rather than two parents who argued terribly toward the end.’
‘You didn’t miss a mother’s love?’
‘I was bought up by a better parent than any child has any right to expect.’
‘Is your father still alive?’
‘No, he died when I was seventeen.’
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘No, an only child.’
‘We’re you alone at home after he died?’
‘No, I’d joined the Navy Cadets by that time.’
‘Did you later serve?’
‘Nine years, Logistics Branch.’
‘At sea?’
‘Mostly, yes.’
‘So, coming back to the present day, did you know that your mother lived in town?’
‘No, not before this morning.’
‘And how did you feel on finding out?’
‘It was almost as much of a shock as learning that she had died.’
‘You really had no idea she was here?’
‘No.’
‘So, back at the time of the divorce it was clearly known to you that she had moved away?’
