'Yeah, matter of fact he would.'
'And he's not available?'
'No.' He bit his lip. 'He, er, went off for a fortnight's skiing, yesterday.'
'How disappointing for you. And me, too. It's a long time since I met Simon. As a matter of fact one of our DCIs is away skiing at the moment. I don't suppose Mr. Mingeles has gone to the Cairngorms, has he?'
'No. Klosters.'
'Yes, he would, wouldn't he? Ah, well, have you thought of trying Gareth Pierce? She specialises in defending the indefensible.'
He looked confused. Gareth Pierce has that effect on me, too. 'Mr. Turner's coming over,' he said. 'But he's told me not to go wiv you unless you arrest me.' 'What time is he coming?' I demanded. 'Free o'clock.'
Whatever happened to the the sound? I blame it on drinking too much cold lager. It paralyses the tongue. 'OK,' I said. 'You be in the station at two thirty and we'll arrest you then. If we have to come for you I'll use it to have you remanded. Understand?'
He probably understood better than I did. 'Right,' he said.
In the car I said: 'Sorry, Maggie. I know you'd like to have taken him in, but this way the clock doesn't start until the brief arrives. We'll play them at their own game.'
'It's all right,' she replied. 'I guessed that was it. Do you want him in custody?'
'Not bothered.'
We were on the High Street, waiting for the lights to change, when I said: 'Presiley… Baxendale.'
'Presiley Baxendale? What about her?'
'That's who I want defending me if ever I'm up before the court.'
'Why her?'
'Dunno. It's just a nice name.'
'You're starved of affection,' she responded. 'When does Annabelle come home?'
'Today. I'd like to meet her at Leeds station, if I can get away.'
'What time?'
'I'm not sure. I'll give them a ring.'
She'd come home via London, and trains from there arrived at regular intervals. She could have been on any one. If I missed her it would have meant her waiting for the connection to Huddersfield and then a taxi. She could have left a message on my ansa phone but she wouldn't expect me to collect her. That was one of the million little reasons that made me love her. There were some big reasons, too.
I tried ringing Rachel, but nobody was in. They were probably having a round of golf. Ah, well, back to work. I went to see the custody sergeant and told him about the prisoner I'd invited in to be arrested.
He heaved a big sigh and closed his eyes, as if in prayer.
They must have done some further colluding, because they arrived together. Turner was older than I expected and didn't look the type to be associated with Mingeles. Maybe he was the firm's last remnant of the old school. Buxton looked happy enough with him. When we were settled in the interview room I switched the tapes on and recited the caution. It was twenty minutes past three.
'Mr. Priest,' Turner began. 'My client strenuously denies these charges. We suggest that if you have any evidence then you present it so we can refute it. Otherwise, you must let him go. The word of a woman with a known reputation for sleeping around who is disappointed at my client's lack of commitment towards her is hardly grounds for making such serious allegations.'
So that was it. Straight out with the big guns. Maggie's chin was resting on her arms, folded across her bosom. A muscle in her cheek was twitching.
'Tell me about Christmas Eve,' I said.
'What's to tell?' Buxton replied. 'I took her home and we had it away. That's all. She consented to everything that took place.'
'Who do we mean by she?'
'Janet, the barmaid at the Tap and Spile.'
'How well did you know her?' 'Only to talk to, up to then.' 'What did you talk about?' I invited. He took a few breaths, sorting his thoughts, wondering how much he ought to say. Turner was sitting askew, facing him, rotating a pencil in his fingers, ready to pounce should Buxton overstep the mark and give too much away.
'We'd chatted, that's all. I could tell she fancied me, but, to tell the troof, she wasn't my sort. I knew she'd been about a bit…'
'How did you know that?' I asked. 'It's common knowledge. The landlord of the Tap was knocking her off, for one.'
I felt Maggie flinch. 'Anybody else?' 'Well, no, no one I could name.' Turner chipped in with: 'My client already said it was common knowledge, Inspector.'
'We don't accept common knowledge in any court I've ever attended, Mr.
Turner,' I told him, tersely. 'Let's stay with the so-called facts, however fanciful. Go on, please.' Buxton said: 'I bought her a couple of drinks. Like I said, I didn't fancy her, but any port in a storm, eh? I'd had a few myself and she was getting better all the time. Know what I mean? So I asked her if she wanted a lift home.' 'And she accepted?'
'No, not exactly. She didn't want it to look obvious. She told me where she lived and said come down in a few minutes, so I did.'
'Where did she say she lived?'
'Marsden Road, at the end. There was a light outside, she said.'
'What number?'
'She didn't tell me no number.'
'That's a bit odd, don't you think?'
Turner jumped straight in with: 'It seems perfectly sensible to me, Inspector. The street light might be more easily located than the house number.'
'Perhaps,' I admitted. 'We'll have it checked.'
I sat back and looked at Maggie. She unfolded her arms and placed her fibre-tipped pen neatly on her pad. So far she hadn't written anything. 'Tell us what happened when you got there,' she said.
'What's to tell? We had it away, that's all. Twice.'
'Twice?'
'Yeah,' he smirked.
'Before that,' Maggie said. 'Didn't you have a coffee?'
'No, we didn't bovver.'
'So what happened? You're not telling me that you and this woman you hardly knew simply took your clothes off and got on with it, are you?
There must have been some preliminaries.'
'Yeah, well, just a few. We had a bit of a snog and suddenly she said she needed a shower. I asked her if she wanted her back scrubbing and she said: 'Why not?' So we went upstairs and that's where we had it the first time.'
'In the shower?' I asked.
'Yeah.'
'How?'
'How? How dyer fink?'
'I'm asking you. Did you have it standing up or lying down? I'm a novice about these things.'
'Standing up, of course.'
'Against the wall?'
'Yeah.'
'Isn't that uncomfortable?'
'Uncomfortable! 'Course not.'
We let the image solidify in our minds for a moment before Maggie took up the questioning again.
'So where did you have it the second time?' she asked.
'On the bed.'
