McGarvie nodded and said, 'The mugging that goes wrong. Some drug-user desperate for cash points a gun at the first woman he sees in the park. She tells him to get lost and he pulls the trigger.'
'If someone pointed a gun at Steph and asked for money, she'd have the sense to hand it over.'
'Her bag was missing.'
'Anyone could have picked that up, including the wino who found her.'
'I know, I know.'
There was an awkward silence while McGarvie exchanged a look with Georgina. Neither seemed ready to go on. Finally Georgina cleared her throat.
'We have to explore every avenue. Do we agree on that?'
'Doesn't need saying.'
Still she hesitated over the real purpose of this meeting. 'Well, in a straightforward case of murder, there are procedures we use almost without thinking.' Another pause. 'You don't have to take this personally, Peter. The first person questioned is the spouse.'
He gripped the arms of the chair and looked at each of the embarrassed faces. Now he knew what this pantomime had been about: easing him into the frame. 'Isn't that what's going on now?'
'I'm speaking of something more formal.'
'You're serious?'
'We can't make any assumptions,' Georgina went on. 'Of course it's an imposition. You're a trusted colleague. None of us seriously believes ... In short, I've asked Curtis to conduct an interview with you.'
'What do you think I'm hiding, for Christ's sake?' he demanded. 'He's been to my house, been over every room, taken things away. I've told you all I can.'
'You're one of us,' McGarvie said without any conviction at all, fingering the knot of his tie, 'and that's the problem. I can't put certain questions to you without giving offence.'
'Such as?'
'I don't propose to start here. This should be done in a structured way, in an interview room, on the record.'
'An
'It may seem over-formal, but . . .'
'You really do have your suspicions.'
'An open mind.'
To think he'd been impressed by McGarvie.
Georgina tried her best to give it an ethical spin. 'We owe this to Stephanie, you know, leaving absolutely nothing to chance. You wouldn't want us to skimp. Why don't I send for some coffee before we do anything else?'
'I'd rather get on with it,' Diamond muttered from deep in his gut.
9
In Interview Room C, in the same chair his attacker, Janie Forsyth, had occupied only an hour ago, Diamond listened in a dazed, disbelieving way to the familiar preamble to a taped interview with a suspect. Was told the identity of his interrogators, McGarvie and Georgina Dallymore, as though he had never met them. Was advised that he was attending voluntarily and was entitled to leave at will unless informed that he was under arrest.
The world had gone mad.
'For the record,' McGarvie was saying, 'I'd like to clarify your movements on the morning your wife was shot. You were at home first thing, I gather?'
'Mm?' He stared blankly.
'What time did you leave the house?'
'The day it happened? I told you already. Eight-fifteen.'
'Can anyone confirm the time? Did you see a neighbour? The postman?'
He shrugged. 'I got into my car and backed it out and drove off.'
'Leaving your wife at the house?'
'You don't have to make it sound like a crime.'
'Do you sometimes give her a lift into town?'
'Only if she wants one.' With each response he was stilling the urge to tell them it was no business of theirs. Until now he hadn't ever considered how closely he guarded his private life.
'She didn't want the lift on this occasion because it was her morning off. Right?'
'Correct'
'How was she dressed at the time you left?'
'Is that important?'
