Kay glanced at the probationer, who wore a similar stunned expression to that of the tenant.
‘Is he always like this when he first meets people?’
‘Umm…’
‘Stay here. Call for back up if we yell,’ she said. She patted his shoulder and began to descend the stairs. ‘Good boy. Stay,’ she murmured under her breath.
Norris appeared at the front door as she reached the bottom step, his face stricken.
‘Stay there,’ he said. ‘We have a problem.’
She peered round his shoulder, her eyes quickly assessing the situation.
The door opened into a simple bedsit, an unmade double bed at the rear of the room next to a threadbare two-seater sofa and a small coffee table. A small television perched on a bracket set into the wall.
Beyond, she could see the entrance to the bathroom, a single light bulb in the ceiling.
She retracted the nightstick, and glanced at Norris before turning her attention to the man sitting on the end of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
‘Peter Evans?’
He raised his gaze from the carpet and peered at her from under a swept-back fringe, his shoulder length hair damp and his pale blue eyes red-rimmed. ‘That’s me.’
‘There’s a packed suitcase behind this door,’ said Norris.
‘Going somewhere?’ said Kay, directing her question at Evans.
‘There are two sets of clothes in the suitcase,’ said Norris. ‘Male and female.’ He jutted his chin towards the bottom step, and Kay moved away from the door, Norris following. ‘There’s blood on the bed,’ he murmured.
Kay craned her neck, but she couldn’t see from where she stood. ‘Any sign of injury on him?’
Norris shook his head.
‘Shit,’ said Kay. ‘Okay, let’s take him in. Lock this down as a crime scene.’ She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. ‘Have your friend stay here until forensics arrive. You can come back here once we’ve got him booked in.’
He nodded, turned on his heel and went back inside.
Kay could hear him cautioning Peter as she climbed back up the stairs.
‘We’re going to take him in,’ she said to the young police officer. ‘Don’t enter the flat. We’ll lock it down as a crime scene and get forensics here as soon as possible.’
She pulled out her mobile phone and hit the speed dial for Sharp’s number as she walked back to her car. Unlocking it, she leaned against it while the phone rang, and noticed at least two windows bathed in light above the basement flat.
No doubt the neighbours had realised that their house was receiving unwanted attention from the police.
Sharp answered on the fourth ring. ‘What have you got?’
‘We arrived five minutes ago. Peter Evans is here, with a suitcase full of clothing,’ said Kay. ‘There’s blood on the bed linen, and he’s recently showered. We’re bringing him in for questioning.’
‘Good work,’ said Sharp. ‘I’ll finish up here, and meet you back at the station. Harriet’s obviously going to be busy here for a while yet, so I’ll let her know she needs to send another team to the flat.’
‘Thanks,’ said Kay. ‘See you in a bit.’
She finished her call as Norris swung the gate open and gestured for Peter to walk ahead of him.
Kay opened the back seat of the car, waited until he had settled in his seat and fastened his seatbelt, then slammed the door shut and turn to Norris.
‘Sharp will meet us at the station,’ she said. ‘Let’s get this one booked in, and find out what he has to say for himself.’
Four
In the interview room, Peter Evans shuffled towards the chair DI Sharp indicated to him, the duty solicitor setting his briefcase on the floor before taking the chair next to his client.
All of Evans’s clothes had been taken from him upon arrival at the custody suite in the early hours of the morning. Each item had been carefully placed in a bag and catalogued before being taken away for processing by the forensic team.
Now, he wore a regulation set of overalls that hung off his narrow shoulders, and he’d rolled the sleeves up above his elbows. A pair of soft slippers covered his feet as he scooted the chair nearer to the desk and then rested his hands in his lap.
Kay opened up her notebook, wondering what the hell was going through the young man’s mind. She resisted the urge to sigh, and tuned in to Sharp’s voice.
Sharp began the interview by formally cautioning Evans and then asking him to confirm his name, address and occupation. That done, the detective inspector leaned back in his seat and eyed the young suspect.
‘Peter, I’ll start off by saying I’ve dealt with a few murder cases in my time, but none as cold-blooded as this.’
‘I didn’t do it,’ said Evans. He lifted his chin until he was staring Sharp eye to eye. ‘I didn’t murder Sophie.’ His voice broke, and he wiped the back of his hand under his nose.
Sharp pushed a box of paper tissues across the table, and Evans plucked two from the box before blowing his nose.
‘When did you last see Sophie alive?’ said Sharp.
‘Eight o’clock yesterday morning,’ said Evans. ‘I hadn’t been invited to the party. I didn’t go to church – never have, let alone that creepy inner sanctum of theirs.’
‘Where did you meet her yesterday morning?’
‘About quarter of a mile down the lane from the house. She’d snuck away while all the preparations were being made.’
‘Did you try to convince her not to go ahead with the ceremony, is that it?’
‘Yes.’ Evans shrugged. ‘It’s just wrong. She has to pledge her chastity to her dad for fuck’s sake. It’s medieval. She’s not even getting married to Josh until she’s eighteen.’
‘What did she say to you?’
Evans wiped at his eyes. ‘She said she had to. “To keep up appearances”,’
