Opposite, Blake Hamilton sat with his solicitor, a look of pure contempt on his features.
He’d argued, Sharp had reported the day before, at the news he’d be kept in the cells overnight and had tried to use the threat of his solicitor’s personal connections to sway the police to put him and his son in a hotel room overnight instead.
The suggestion had been met with scorn, and now the American appeared to be sulking after a night on a cell bunk.
Larch didn’t wait for Sharp to settle into his seat before breaking the news to Hamilton that he was being released.
Blake blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘You’re free to go, pending further enquiries,’ said Sharp. ‘We will, however, request that you be accompanied back to your house with police officers and hand over both yours and Josh’s passports to them.’
‘What? Do you mean to tell me that I spent a night in the cells for nothing?’ He glared at Larch. ‘Well?’
‘We received new information this morning that has altered the course of our enquiries,’ said the DCI. He turned his attention to Giles Fordingham. ‘I’m sure you understand?’
‘Hey, don’t look at him. He’s not the one that spent the night here,’ said Blake. ‘And why the hell do you need our—’ Realisation crossed his face. ‘Oh, for crying out loud. You really think we’re going to make a run for it? I run a successful business, and as I’ve told you repeatedly, I’m not guilty. Nor is my son.’ He spun in his chair to face Fordingham. ‘This is ridiculous.’
Fordingham gave a slight shake of his head, and then cleared his throat. ‘Detective Chief Inspector, are you sure this is necessary? My client is a pillar of his local church, has never been in trouble with the law before, and as he says, runs a successful business that requires him to travel to the Continent on a regular basis.’
Kay held her breath.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Fordingham,’ said Larch. ‘Mr Hamilton, we will require your passports until such time as this investigation is concluded.’
‘Well, how long is that going to be?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that.’
Blake flung his arms up and snorted. ‘Bloody great. How the hell am I supposed to run my business if I can’t meet with international clients?’
‘There are such things as video conference call facilities in most offices,’ said Sharp. ‘Or Skype.’
In the observation suite, Kay snorted coffee up her nose and, spluttering, reached across the desk to a box of tissues, her eyes watering.
‘Are we done here?’
‘We are.’
Blake slid his chair away from the table and waited until Sharp had opened the door for him. ‘You haven’t heard the end of this, Detective.’
Larch shook hands with Giles Fordingham, each of them dropping their hands to their sides as quickly as possible, and then they followed Blake from the room.
Kay leaned forward and switched off the monitor.
Outside in the corridor, Blake Hamilton’s voice echoed off the walls as he complained loudly to his solicitor about the way he and his son had been treated.
Eventually, the voices faded, and she peered out the door.
Sharp leaned against the opposite wall, his hands in his pockets.
‘We’re not going to hear the end of this, are we?’ she said.
‘I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think Blake Hamilton is going to risk his business reputation to phone the Right Honourable Richard Fremchurch and tell him he’s spent the night in police custody. And his solicitor is bound by client confidentiality, so although he’s the brother-in-law of Larch’s esteemed contacts, he won’t say anything.’
Kay relaxed her shoulders and stepped out into the corridor, pulled the door closed behind her and followed him as he began to walk back to the incident room. ‘What’s next?’
‘Harriet and Lucas have confirmed all their tests are concluded; they’re waiting for the results now.’ He paused at the door. ‘I’ll call Lucas and ask him to release Sophie’s body to her family.’
‘Do you want me to arrange to meet them there?’
‘Yes, probably best you go once Debbie’s sorted everything out at this end.’
‘Okay.’
‘You might want to go home and get changed first, though.’
‘Pardon?’
He raised an eyebrow at her, and tapped his finger on a spot on his chest. ‘You have coffee on your blouse.’
‘You told Hamilton to use Skype.’
Thirty-Six
Kay leaned against the wall of the waiting room and swallowed, fighting down the urge to flee.
She’d arrived only five minutes ago, driving a circuitous route that guaranteed she wouldn’t be late, and wouldn’t be too early.
Debbie West had taken a call from a local Maidstone funeral director that morning after the briefing. The man had informed her that the Whittakers had been informed the coroner had completed his reports into Sophie’s death, and her parents wished to arrange to have their only child released from the morgue for burial.
Now, Kay wished she’d delegated the task to someone like Gavin.
She knew only too well how hard it would be for the Whittakers to say goodbye to their daughter.
After parking the car as far away from the hospital buildings as she reasonably could, Kay took her time making her way towards the entrance doors. She had opted to take the stairs rather than the lift to the second floor where the mortuary was situated.
Anything to delay the moment she had to push through the doors and enter the small office where the coroner’s officers worked.
She introduced herself, declined the offer of a seat and cast her eyes around the room as the two women answered phone calls and processed the myriad of paperwork involved in running the administrative side of Her Majesty’s coroner for the county of Kent.
As well as having a caseload from Kent police, the coroner was also required to provide his services to the hospital whenever the cause of death was unknown, or when a death happened suddenly with no apparent reason.
From experience, Kay knew that the mortuary room itself was cramped and limited for space, especially in the winter months.
