so. He left money matters to his accountant. But the house was insured in his name? Of course it bloody was. Had to be. After all, his family had lived in it for two hundred and more years so it had to be in his name. Quite so. Now, about the Obscene Material…Mrs Rottecombe had made a statement saying he had asked her to tie him up and whip him and she’d refused…Like hell she had. The bloody bitch enjoyed whipping and torturing people. She was into fladge in a big way…He stopped. Even in his state of almost total fatigue he could see from the Inspector’s expression that he’d said the wrong thing. He asked to speak to his solicitor. Of course he could. Just give them the number and the lawyer’s name and he could phone him. Battleby couldn’t remember his solicitor’s telephone number. The man was up in London and…Would he like a local solicitor? No, he fucking wouldn’t. The only thing those dunderheads knew about was boundary disputes.
And so the questioning had gone on and on and every time Battleby’s head drooped on to the table he was shaken awake. He was even given strong coffee and allowed to use the toilet. Then the questions began again. A different officer took over at midday and put the same questions.
Chapter 16
At Ipford Police Station, Inspector Flint shared the Sheriff’s feeling about Drug Enforcement Agents. He had just read Superintendent Hodge’s report on Mrs Wilt and was appalled.
‘You can’t send this stuff across to America,’ he protested. ‘There wasn’t a shred of evidence the Wilts had anything to do with the distribution of drugs in Ipford. They were as clean as a whistle.’
‘Only because someone blew one for them,’ said Hodge.
‘Meaning?’ said Flint whose blood pressure had soared. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning they were tipped off we were on to them and they took cover in the American airbase and dumped the stuff.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting I had anything to do–’
‘Not you, Flint. Just take a dekko at the evidence. Wilt has this job teaching Yanks at Lakenheath and this guy Immelmann’s been stationed there. So Wilt’s got contacts with Yanks even before he starts. That’s one. Two is PCP is an American drug. Designer drug and the Lord Lieutenant’s daughter dies of an overdose at the Tech where Wilt teaches her. ODs on PCP. There’s more evidence, a whole heap of it and it all points one way. To the Wilts. You can’t deny it, Flint. And another thing. Where else was Wilt teaching? In the hoosegow here in Ipford.’
‘Hodge, we don’t have hoosegows in Britain. You’ve got America on the brain.’
‘All right. Wilt was teaching in the prison and mixing with some of the nastiest villains in the drug business. That’s three strikes against the bastard. Number four is–’
‘Hodge, don’t let me interrupt you but you can’t have four strikes in baseball. Miss three and you’re out. If you really want to go transatlantic, you’ve got to get these things right. You’ll never make the Yankee Stadium if you go on like this.’
‘Very funny, I’m sure. You always were known for your wit. Well, this time just stick to the evidence. Mrs Wilt’s aunt is married to a known drug importer in the States. OK, they’re legit those drugs. On the surface. Then again he’s got a place in the Caribbean and a motor boat that does over sixty knots and on top of that he has planes. Learjets and Beechcraft. All the apparatus for a highly lucrative drug pusher. And Mrs Wilt just happens to visit him with her quads. Very good diversionary tactics those quads. And to top it all
