her on those grounds.
He sat at his desk for a while, tapping his fingers against the telephone, trying to come to a decision. Then he decided. He placed a call through to the Spanish police. They were able to provide him with the address and telephone number of Mr and Mrs Godfrey. ‘They have built a lovely hacienda in the hills behind Malaga,’ the policeman, Juan Gonzalez said. ‘A beautiful place. One of our cars drove past earlier on today and there were vehicles outside and signs that they were at home. I have not alerted them in case they do a flit.’ He gave a great belly laugh at his own English colloquialism.
‘Many thanks, senor,’ Alex said politely. ‘I intend coming over to interview them myself this weekend.’
‘You need a car, a police escort?’ Gonzalez sounded eager to be in on the action.
‘No, no. Don’t worry. I’ll hire a car from the airport,’ Alex said. ‘I don’t anticipate any trouble but thanks for your help.’
‘My pleasure, Senor Randall.’
He rang the number Gonzalez had given him and it was quickly answered by a Spanish female.
‘
‘
‘Yeah, who is it?’
He hadn’t been prepared for someone sounding so bored and pissed off. They were in the land of Rioja and sunshine after all. He introduced himself and explained that he was investigating the discovery of a baby’s body in the house they had previously occupied. He left out the facts of the state of the body and that it had been there for a greater number of years than had the Sedgewicks.
‘You can’t think it’s got anything to do with us.’ The woman was sounding indignant but a little less pissed off. The drama had at least roused her from her boredom.
‘I’m sure it hasn’t,’ Alex said smoothly, ‘but we have to pursue enquiries. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Not sure I do, mate.’
‘Well,’ Alex said, ‘I’m proposing flying to Spain this weekend with another officer for the sole purpose of interviewing you and your husband. It would be a great shame for us to have a wasted journey.’
There was a long sigh as though whatever he proposed she would find it tiresome. ‘We’ll be around ’ere most of Saturday. Got a few friends coming over in the evening. It’ll entertain them, I suppose, couple of coppers lurking.’
She sounded so utterly uninterested in the whole process that Alex became irritated. He could have shaken this woman. Behind the discovery of the baby must surely lie some tragic story and she couldn’t have cared less? It made him angry and her next comment was no less infuriating.
‘You come if you want to, mate.’
‘Your husband – will he be there?’
‘Where else would he be? Nothing much to do this time of year except hang around here. The whole place is dead.’
‘Shall we say ten o’clock tomorrow – Saturday – morning then,’ Alex asked.
‘Bit bloody early, mate. Better make it midday.’ There was a throaty chuckle. ‘I just might be up by then. Hangover gone. Know what I mean?’
‘Right. Midday it is then, Mrs Godfrey. Thank you.’ She was hardly going to pick on his heavy sarcasm over the telephone but he felt all the better for it anyway.
He put the phone down still feeling angry with the woman. It was only two p.m. and already he’d dealt with Alice Sedgewick, her daughter and this creature who could barely manage to be civil. All he needed now was…’
Right on cue the phone rang and he was informed that Gregory Sedgewick was on the phone from Turkey.
The voice didn’t even sound distant.
‘Inspector Randall?’
Alex replied in the affirmative.
‘My father asked me to ring and speak to you about my mother’s involvement in this business.’ He managed to make the investigation sound both unnecessary and distasteful.
Alex decided to flush him out. ‘So what’s your problem?’
‘I don’t know really.’ Gregory Sedgewick sounded vague, rather weak. Nothing like his father. ‘I just think Dad thought if we – me and my sister – harassed you enough you’d drop the case, leave Mum out of it. She’s had enough to put up with, poor old thing.’
He sounded fond of his mother. More so than either Alice’s husband or her daughter. There was real affection in his voice. ‘She gets a bit upset, you know. Dad kind of bullies her – bamboozles her into doing all sorts of things.’ Randall’s ears pricked up.
‘She’s not up to these sorts of games, you know.’
Alex felt his neck tense up. ‘We don’t play games, Mr Sedgewick. An investigation into the death of this child will proceed whatever your father wants.’
‘Yeah. I thought that.’ Gregory didn’t sound too bothered either way. ‘It’s just that the old man – you know? He’s used to controlling things.’
‘I see. Where do you live – just for the record?’
‘Bit south of Istanbul.’
‘Have you lived there long?’
‘Six years. I work in a bank here. I don’t come over to the UK much. Me and the old man, you know. He’s none too happy about his only son being gay. Doesn’t mind too much if his daughter’s as butch as they make them. It’s just me, you know. But Mum comes over here once a year. She stays for a week or two with me and Harry, my partner. We all get on pretty well, you know. She’s not a bad old stick. A bit under the pater’s thumb, if you know what I mean. If Dad said she was to put her hand in boiling water I have the awful feeling…’He stopped abruptly. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Babbling too much. Promised Dad I would ring and so I have. Done my duty now.’
‘OK. Thanks for the call,’ Alex said, wondering why on earth Gregory had really rung and why, in all that ‘babble’ he had the feeling that Gregory had said something of significance, pointed him in a new direction.
However he had no time to ponder all this now. He picked up the phone and asked if PC Roberts was in the station. When he got hold of him he made his invitation.
‘Fancy a trip to Spain, Roberts?’
NINE
Gethin Roberts was feeling disgruntled.
It wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. Having told Flora, his girlfriend, that he was off to Spain for the weekend on a trip (top secret) connected with the current investigation, and watching her eyes grow satisfyingly round, he was now sitting on a lumpy bed in a dingy room in a scabby pension that was more like a block of council flats. To cap it all it wasn’t even quiet. It was on a main road, right on a traffic island and there was no swimming pool, let alone the imagined bathing beauties, strutting their stuff in skimpy bikinis. And it wasn’t even hot. The girls around were all muffled up in coats, boots, scarves and woolly hats. They’d been held up for hours at the airport because of ice and fog and then, to top it all, when they had landed, his suitcase had burst open on the carousel, scattering hastily and carelessly packed clothes and he was sure people were making jibes about his dingy underwear in whispered Spanish. Not a good experience. PC Roberts decided there and then that next time he flew he would put a band around his suitcase. He and the inspector had had a very late and indigestible dinner of some tough meat and a bottle of Spanish wine between them. The wine had been the only thing that had lived up to expectations. Then Randall had told him the Godfrey’s house was four hours drive away and they would have to make an early
