‘I’ve no idea. I didn’t meet him until after they split.’
‘All I want is an opinion, Dr Campbell. It’s hardly a breach of confidentiality if Charles wasn’t your patient at the time and isn’t your patient now. I need persuading that he has nothing to do with this inquiry . . . and your refusal to offer any guidance isn’t helping with that decision.’
Susan frowned. ‘Which inquiry? The inspector said his alibi stood up for the assault on Mr Tutting.’
‘Any information that supports his story will be helpful.’
‘I don’t have any information.’ She held his gaze for a moment. ‘Look, it may come as a shock to you, but you probably know him better than I do. The longest conversation I’ve ever had with Charles was in the taxi coming here.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘I was trying to disabuse him of the idea that pretty lesbians are kept women, and butch lesbians don’t know how to operate washing machines.’ Humour crept into her voice. ‘Would you like me to do the same for you, Superintendent? I imagine your understanding of lesbian relationships is no more profound or more sophisticated than Charles’s.’
‘If he’s that ignorant, why does he want to live with a couple of them? Does he think he can
Susan wasn’t amused. ‘It’s irrelevant what their sexual orientation is; he’s choosing to live with Jackson and Daisy.’
‘Why?’
Susan shrugged. ‘At a guess, he knows he has to start trusting people again, and he believes he’s found someone dependable in Jackson. She won more respect from him in a single night than anyone else has done since his injury.’ Her glance rested on the screen for a moment. ‘It won’t surprise me if he’s changed his mind, though. Trust is a fragile thing at the best of times.’
*
DI Beale and his uniformed colleague shook their heads when Acland pointed to some items of clothing that he hadn’t repacked in his kitbag and asked if either of them objected to him taking off his shirt in order to add some layers underneath. But Beale was shocked by how thin Acland was. The ribs of his back showed all too clearly, giving unhealthy credence to the idea of a self-denying ascetic; where he found the strength to do vertical press-ups was a mystery. Beale watched the lieutenant pull three T-shirts over his head before replacing his shirt. ‘You look as if you’re planning to head for the Antarctic,’ he said in a friendly tone. Acland ignored him to examine his boots and jacket, which were in a separate pile. He used his sleeve to rub the toe of a boot. ‘What did they use on these?’ ‘Blood detectors... probably luminol or fluorescein.’ Acland pulled a second pair of socks over his feet and laced up his boots. ‘Do I get compensated if the leather goes rotten two weeks down the line . . . or is that the price I pay for being a witness?’ ‘It shouldn’t.’ ‘Right,’ said Acland without emphasis, as he shrugged into his jacket, ‘like an armful of injections shouldn’t give you Gulf War Syndrome.’ He picked up his wallet and checked it before tucking it into his kitbag and drawing the strings tight. ‘Is that it?’ The custody sergeant passed him a receipt and a pen. ‘We just need your signature, sir . . . also the address where we can contact you and a mobile phone number if you have one.’ ‘You know I don’t. You’ve searched everything I have.’ Acland signed his name, hesitated briefly, then wrote, ‘The Bell, Gains-borough Road’ beneath it. ‘What happens if I decide to move on from the Bell?’
‘You’re at liberty to do that, Lieutenant, as long as you or Dr Jackson notify us of your new address. There are no police bail conditions attached to your release, but that status could well be revised if you fail to inform us of your whereabouts.’
‘My car’s out back,’ said Beale. ‘I’ll drive you down myself. Dr Campbell phoned Daisy Wheeler ten minutes ago. She’s expecting us.’
Acland busied himself with the straps of his kitbag. ‘Why would Dr Campbell make the phone call?’
‘She offered to do it when I told her we were releasing you. She’s been in the waiting room all the time you’ve been here.’
Clearly surprised, Acland raised his head. ‘Have you been questioning her?’
‘Only to establish your alibi.’
‘Then what’s she still doing here? Why hasn’t she gone home?’
‘For support, I imagine,’ Beale answered matter-of-factly. ‘She says she’s your friend. I promised to drive you both to the Bell when your interview was over.’
There was a flicker of indecision on the lieutenant’s face before he gave a small nod. ‘I hadn’t realized . . . I thought she’d be long gone.’ He hoisted the strap over his head so that the bag lay diagonally across his back. ‘I appreciate the lift . . . thanks . . . but do you mind if I wait outside while you fetch Susan? I could really do with some fresh air.’
‘Sure.’ Beale opened the door and pointed to the right. ‘Down here, hang a left at the end and the exit to the car park is straight ahead. Mine’s the silver Toyota nearest the building.’
‘Cheers.’
Beale wondered about that look of indecision as he watched the younger man walk away. He wondered, too, about the extra layers of clothing. He raised his voice. ‘You’re not planning to abscond are you, Lieutenant?’
Acland paused briefly, turning to look at him. ‘If I did, I’d be letting Susan down,’ he said, ‘and I’ve never let a friend down yet.’
*
Susan lit a much-needed cigarette as she and Beale exited the police station to find a deserted car park. She propped her bottom against the Toyota bonnet and puffed smoke into the air while she watched the inspector scout around the exit to see if Acland was in the road. ‘What did you expect?’ she asked him. ‘I warned you he might change his mind.’ ‘He said he wouldn’t let a friend down,’ protested Beale impatiently, ‘and as it was in reference to you, I assumed he meant it.’ He eyed her accusingly, as if it were her fault. ‘He gave me his word.’ ‘Obviously not, if he doesn’t view me as a friend,’ said Susan thoughtfully. ‘You should have let me speak to him in the interview room.’ Beale flicked the remote on his key fob and opened the passenger door for her. ‘He can’t have gone far. We’ll drive around and see if we can spot him.’ He pointed to the ‘No Smoking’ sign on his dashboard. ‘Sorry. Rigid rule,
