'In the Met, you were listed as an authorised shot.'
'I let it lapse some years back.'
'The .38 that was used to shoot your wife could well have been a police weapon.'
He took a sharp, deep breath. 'What are you on about? I don't believe this.'
Sensing that it was time to draw back a little, McGarvie said, 'In the days leading up to the incident, did your wife mention any concerns, anything that might have suggested she was under stress?'
He'd been over this in his own mind many times. 'No. Nothing at all.'
'Was she at all secretive?'
'If you'd known her, you wouldn't ask that question.'
'Had there been any change in her routine?'
'Not that I noticed.'
'Had she received any threatening phone calls or letters?'
His patience was draining fast.
'For the tape,' McGarvie said, 'the subject just shook his head.' Then he tossed in another grenade. 'Did she have links with the criminal world?'
'What? Steph? Are you completely out of your mind?'
It wasn't the kind of response McGarvie wanted for his precious tape, but the gist was clear. He sniffed and moved on. 'Did she have a car of her own?'
'No. We shared it.'
'She could drive, then?'
'Oh, yes. But I was using it.'
'We need to establish how she travelled to the park. Would she have walked?'
'Could have, quite easily. It's scarcely a mile from where we live, but not too nice when the traffic is heavy on the Upper Bristol Road. It's more likely she caught a minibus. They pass the end of the street every fifteen minutes, so she generally took one if she was going into town.'
'She'd be at the park in a very short time.'
'Depending on the traffic'
'We reckon she'd have got off at the Marlborough Lane stop to make her way up to the park.'
'If she took the bus, yes.'
'We've questioned each of the drivers on that route. Not one remembers a passenger of your wife's description. Of course they don't necessarily take note of every middle-aged woman who boards their bus.'
'You could ask the passengers.'
'The regulars? It's being tried. Nothing so far.'
Diamond remarked, 'All this presupposes she went to the park of her own free will.'
'You think otherwise?'
'I don't know any reason she would go there.'
'By arrangement?'
'Then she would have told me.'
McGarvie commented tardy, 'If she told you everything.' He leaned forward, showing more of his bloodshot eyes than Diamond cared to see. 'Before you take offence again, consider this. The whole thing is strange, you've got to admit. You tell us she was acting normally that morning, had no secrets from you, had no reason to visit the park, yet that's where she was shot within two hours of your leaving for work.'
'If I knew why, I'd have told you.'
'At what stage were you told she'd been shot?'
'Nobody told me. I found out for myself.'
There was a pause while the horror of that moment was relived, and when McGarvie resumed again, there was less overt hostility. 'Okay, to be accurate, you heard that a woman had been shot and you went to the park and recognised the victim as your wife?'
'You know this. Do we have to go over it?'
'DI Halliwell was competent to deal with the incident. What prompted you to go there?'
Amazing. Even his attendance at the scene was viewed as suspicious. This experience on the receiving end, having to account for everything he had done, would change for ever his attitude to interviewing a suspect.
'I said we hadn't seen much action.'
'Point taken. Spurred on by the prospect of something happening, you went to the scene. You saw who it was, and you ignored procedure at the scene of a crime and handled the victim—'
'She was my wife, for pity's sake.'
