'Let me make it easier for you then, Mr. Dewhurst.' I had a pair of scissors in the folder. I used them to cut across one of the prints, as close as possible to the jagged saw-teeth. I placed the cut-down print over the first one.
Dewhurst kept silent, his face a mask of fear and contempt. Wylie said: 'I'm afraid you've lost me, Inspector.'
'I'll explain, then. This one' — I indicated with a finger' is a photograph of the black plastic bag in which poor Georgina's body was found. It's the type that comes in a continuous roll. You just tear them off at the perforations, as required. This other one' — I pointed again 'is the next bag on that roll. The edges are a perfect match, as you can see. It was removed from under Mr. Dewhurst's Nissan Patrol, wrapped round the spare wheel.' I turned to Dewhurst: 'Would you care to explain how it came to be there, sir?'
Chapter 17
Dewhurst's suntan was rapidly losing the struggle to keep some colour in his face. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and an eyelid developed an involuntary twitch. He said: 'I don't know what you are talking about.'
'It's called infanticide, Mr. Dewhurst. I'm suggesting that you murdered Georgina.'
'You're mad.' He spat the words at me.
I expanded on my accusation: 'You'd planned the whole thing for a long time. We know all about your financial situation and the love nest in Todmorden. The ransom notes were made well in advance of the deed. To make them you bought envelopes, notepad and glue from Woolworths. What you didn't use you discarded, probably by simply placing them in a litter bin or skip whilst on your travels. You murdered Georgina on the Sunday night, giving her a massive dose of your mother-in-law's sleeping tablets and helping them along with a plastic bag over her head. You carefully opened the roll of bin-liners you had previously purchased and tore off the first one. You hid it at Capstick Colliery, with Georgina's body inside. The rest of the roll was placed between the front seats of the Nissan and you disposed of them sometime on the Monday.'
Wylie was sitting bolt upright, his eyes switching from me to his client and his mouth hanging open.
I pressed on: 'To give yourself an alibi for Monday morning you faked the puncture. That was when your luck ran out. Mechanics in general have a bad reputation. Unfortunately for you, the one at Ashurst's is very conscientious. The spare wheel he removed was filthy with dirt from the road. When he put the other wheel back under your vehicle he remembered seeing the roll of bin liners between the front seats. He carefully removed the next bag from the roll and used it to wrap around your spare, replacing the remainder of the roll back where he'd found it. I removed that bag from under your Nissan Patrol four weeks later.'
I turned to Nigel and gave a jerk of the head towards the shattered figure sitting opposite. Nigel said: 'Miles Jonathan Dewhurst; I am arresting you for the murder of Georgina Alice Dewhurst. Do you wish to say anything? You are not obliged to say anything, but what you do may be put in writing and given in evidence.'
We should have noticed the warning signs earlier. Dewhurst hunched his shoulders forward and I briefly saw that his lips had turned blue. Then he clutched the front of his shirt and pitched head first on to the table.
'He's having a heart attack,' I cried, and heard myself ordering an ambulance for the second time in two days. Nigel dashed out while I loosened Dewhurst's collar and supported his head. Within seconds the room was filled with helpers. The uniformed boys have more experience at this sort of thing than we have, so I let them take over. The tape was still running. I said: 'Interview terminated at… twelve minutes past five,' and flicked it off.
The custody sergeant didn't share our euphoria. He said: 'Aw, bloody 'ell, Charlie!' when I told him that the invalid now on his way to Heckley General had just been arrested for murder and that I wanted him charged. 'Do you know what this means?' he protested.
'Well, let's see,' I replied. 'He'll need round-the-clock guarding, more for his own protection than anything. Then you'll have to comply with the requirements of PACE: read him his rights; arrange a solicitor; allow him to phone a named person; give him a copy of the code; ask him his eight favourite records… That's about all, isn't it? Should make for a touching bedside scene.'
'All! All! Where do I get the staff?'
'Look on the bright side,' I answered. 'He might die.' I probably meant it.
Walking through the foyer I saw a hunched figure heading towards the doors. I called after him: 'Mr. Wylie?'
He stopped and turned. As I approached he looked to have aged ten years in the last hour. We faced each other in silence for a few moments, then I said: 'This must have come as a terrible shock to you.'
'Yes, Inspector, it did.' His voice trembled as he spoke.
'There was no other way we could do it,' I told him. A more clued-up brief would have frustrated my line of questioning. I'd taken advantage of him because he couldn't believe that his client could do such an evil deed. His only consolation was that he hadn't impeded justice.
'You did your job, Mr. Priest, and did it well. I, on the other hand, cannot profess to have represented my client to the best of my abilities.'
'You couldn't have known…'
He stopped me, raising a manicured hand that had never done anything heavier than lift a conveyance. 'It's all right,' he said. 'I don't mind. I really don't mind.' There was the merest trace of a smile on his face as he turned to the door. He'd lost a case, but he'd be able to sleep at night.
'Goodnight, Mr. Priest.' 'Goodnight, sir.'
It was hand-shaking, back-slapping time in the office. We interrupted Gilbert's meeting so that he could break the news to most of the top brass who weren't at the conference. The press office released a statement giving as little information as possible: a man was helping with enquiries… Dave Sparkington had gone to Ashurst's to take Mr.
Black and the mechanic to their local nick and record their statements.
It was after seven when he returned with the tapes. Gilbert arrived while we were playing everything through for the custody sergeant, so we had to play the first one again. They agreed that we had enough to charge him; the only cloud was whether the bin-liner from under the Nissan was admissible. I'd retrieved it without the help of a search warrant.
'It still proves he did it,' I claimed, 'even if he does get off on a technicality.'
'I doubt if he will,' Gilbert reassured us, 'but we'll let the CPS legal boys worry about that.' He looked at his watch. 'I reckon we've just about time for a celebratory snifter down at the club, eh?'
Sparky, surprisingly, was the first to object. 'Not for me, thanks. I said I'd try to be early tonight. Can we make it tomorrow?'
'It's, era bit awkward for me, too, Mr. Wood,' said Nigel.
Gilbert looked at me. 'Tomorrow then. Eh, Charlie?'
I said: 'Yeah. Let's have him charged first. If he survives. Then we'll have the full team in the club, tomorrow.'
They drifted away. Dave said: 'You coming, Charlie?'
'Not just yet, Dave,' I replied. 'You go. I just want to tidy up.'
I watched out of the window as they left. We are on the first floor, the main body of the station being downstairs. One by one their cars paused at the exit before pulling out into the sparse traffic and heading home. The streets were quiet, partly because of the rain, partly because Tuesdays in Heckley have never been a rival to Mardi Gras.
Some of my best thinking is done alone in the office, with everybody's light off except mine. The building creaks and whispers as it settles down for the night. Outside, a siren warbled as a Traffic car left the yard to witness someone's misery.
I picked up the phone and tapped the numbers. From memory. I'd remembered Annabelle's number from the very first time I dialled it.
Not bad for someone who never mastered the Lord's Prayer. Wonder what the wife of a bishop would make of that?
She answered immediately, repeating the number in her warm, rounded vowels.
