again.” I extracted a plan of Latham’s house at West Woods from the papers on the table in front of me, and slid it towards Dave. He squared it up and laid a pencil across it. “So,” I went on, “if you can describe your movements from when you parked on his drive to when the police arrived, DC Sparkington will mark them on the diagram.”
Prendergast looked as if I were trying to sell him a timeshare in Bosnia, which is about how I felt, but he stayed silent. Silkstone didn’t know any better and leaned back in his chair, rehearsing his words as he drew on a cigarette. He had nothing to hide. He was the first person I’d met who could swagger sitting down.
“Er, Boss,” Dave said.
“Mmm?”
“Don’t you think we ought to start before then?” he asked.
“Like when?”
“Well, when Mr Silkstone went home and found Latham with his wife.”
“You mean a week earlier, at Mountain Meadows?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“Because CPS will ask for it. It might not be relevant, but it’s all part of the big picture. And then we want another one for a week later, when he found Mrs Silkstone’s body. After that we can go to Latham’s place.”
I clenched my fists and stared down at the desk, breathing deeply. After a few moments I said: “OK, OK, if you say so. Do we have drawings of Mr Silkstone’s house.”
“It’s The Garth,” Dave replied. “There should be some in there.” I found one and pushed it towards him. “Sorry about this,” I said to the other two, “but my DC likes to do things by the book.”
Dave turned towards the tape recorder and said: “I am now looking at a drawing of The Garth, Mountain Meadows.” He announced today’s date and the date that Silkstone first went home early, writing them both on the diagram. “Right,” he declared, looking expectantly at me and then at Silkstone. “Let’s go.”
“Where did you park the car?” I asked, and Silkstone leaned over the table and showed Dave exactly where he’d left his?40,000 Audi A8.
“And by which door did you enter the house?”
“The kitchen door.”
Dave traced a straggly line down the drive, around the corner to the side door.
“And then?”
“I walked through into the lounge,” Silkstone informed us, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling, “to where Margaret and Peter were sitting.”
“Which was where, exactly?” I asked.
“Margaret was on the settee and Peter in the easy chair nearest the fireplace.”
“And did you join them?”
“No. I was bursting to go to the toilet. That was mainly why I’d gone home. I put my briefcase down and went for a piss.”
“Which bathroom did you use?” Dave asked, his pencil hovering over the plan.
Prendergast yawned and twisted in his seat, trying to see out through the little window. Relax while you can, I thought. We’ll brighten up your morning in a minute or two.
“Upstairs,” Silkstone replied. “The family bathroom.”
“Why not the one downstairs,” I asked, “if you were so desperate?”
“Never occurred to me,” he said. “We only use that one when we entertain, and I don’t suppose I was that desperate. Generally speaking, I use the family room all the time, and Margaret uses — used — the en suite one. I just went up there out of habit.”
“Inspector…” the lawyer began, his face twisted by a pain that expressed his disdain for what we were doing. “Is this really necessary?”
I turned to Dave, saying: “Isn’t it about time you made that call, Sunshine?”
“Yeah,” he replied, pushing his chair back and standing up. “’Scuse me.”
“DC Sparkington leaves the room at ten thirteen,” I said, as if anyone cared, but it sounded professional. I reached for the incomplete diagram and turned to the brief. “My DC is right,” I told him. “It might all look unnecessary, but we have a list of forms to fill in and if any are missing the CPS start chasing us. It’s nice if we can get it right first time: saves us having to bother you again. So, Mr Silkstone, you presumably came downstairs again and joined the others?”
I convinced them, I’m sure of it. We join the police because we are honest, but it’s a licence to lie through our teeth. You have to be careful, though. Evidence obtained by trickery is inadmissible, like almost anything else that works against the defendant. I don’t care. Silkstone might get away with having been there when his wife died, and God-knows what else, but the newspapers would have a field day when they saw the pile of shit I’d bulldoze into court.
I galloped through the rest of his movements and was just at the point where he stabbed Latham when Dave returned. He handed me a manila envelope and I told the machine that he was back. When we’d finished we asked Silkstone to sign the diagrams and told him that he would be given photocopies, along with the tape.
“And finally,” I said, “there’s just a little matter of this.” I pulled the warrant from its envelope and slid it across the table.
“What is it?” Predergast asked, as they both leaned forward.
“A warrant to search The Garth, Mountain Meadows, and make certain tests. A team of officers is there at this moment, waiting to start. You may go along to witness things, Mr Prendergast, but there is also a codicil to Mr Silkstone’s bail conditions, saying that he must stay out of The Garth while these tests are being made. It expires at four p.m. today.”
Silkstone looked as if the MD had just had him in to say that from now on the company’s cars would be Reliant Robins, and Prendergast did a passable impression of an oxygen-starved koi carp.
“This is preposterous!” the brief eventually opined.
“It’s legal,” I stated, rising to my feet.
Dave said: “I’ll tell them to get on with it.”
“Yes, please,” I affirmed, and he left the room again.
“What you are doing, Inspector,” Prendergast spluttered, “is…is…highly irregular and…and…of doubtful validity. First of all, there is the question of security.” He was getting himself back together. “It is normal procedure for a responsible representative of the defendant be present when a search is made. My client may have large sums of money, or other valuables, in the house. And then there’s the question of the admissibility of any so-called evidence your men may purport to have discovered. The situation is outlandish and should not have been sprung upon us in such a precipitate manner. I feel obliged to take this up with your superiors, and am considering a formal complaint. The whole thing is completely out of order.”
I turned to Silkstone. “Are there any large sums of money in the house?” I asked, and he shook his head before Prendergast had time to advise him otherwise. “My men, as you call them,” I continued, “are accompanied by several civilian scenes of crime specialists and one of Her Majesty’s scientists. I am confident that they will conduct themselves with their normal integrity and impartiality. As I have said before, their findings may corroborate your story and you will have full access to them. If you are concerned about your property you may go along and watch, but you will not be allowed in the house.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Silkstone demanded. “Stand in the garden in the rain?”
“I suggest you go about whatever you intended to do. Now, if you’ll follow me to the front desk I’ll sign a copy of the tape and photocopies of these diagrams over to you. Don’t forget your umbrellas.”
Prendergast complained all the way there and was still berating the custody sergeant as I danced up the stairs, three at a time, towards my little kingdom and a well-earned pot of Earl Grey. All we needed now was some evidence.
Jason Lee Gelder said that the food at the remand centre was really good. It was next door to Bentley prison, catering expressly for under-twenty-ones, and still came under Gwen Rhodes’ authority. They had sausages and beans for breakfast and something different every day for dinner. He shared a room with another youth and they got on well together. The duty solicitor joined us, complaining about his beaker of tea, and I said: “Right, Jason. Let’s talk about this girlfriend of yours. Have you remembered her name?”
