‘Guv?’
‘I need you back at the station. Where are you?’
‘Down by the river getting some fresh air. What’s wrong?’
‘Matthew Whittaker just turned up here demanding to speak to us. Says he thinks his wife murdered their daughter.’
‘I’ll be right there.’
Kay stuffed her phone back into her pocket and took off at a sprint.
Reaching the police station, she swiped her card and burst through the doors, took the stairs two at a time and launched herself into the incident room.
Sharp’s conversation with Carys died on the air as he saw her approach.
‘What’s going on?’ she said, trying to catch her breath.
‘We’ve got him in interview room one,’ he said as she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. ‘You’ll do the interview with me. We haven’t been able to locate Larch at the moment so Carys left a message for him.’
‘How do you want to do this?’
‘We’ll let him talk, see what he has to say for himself.’
Kay nodded and followed him from the room. ‘I have a feeling the marriage is in trouble, guv.’
‘Okay, so this might just be vindictive, is that what you’re saying?’
‘It’s something we have to bear in mind, yes.’
‘All right, good point.’
He led the way down the stairs to the interview suite and swiped his card over the security panel. ‘He didn’t nominate his own solicitor, so I’ve got one of the duty solicitors to attend. I want this done properly, Kay. If he’s telling the truth, then I don’t want Larch breathing down our necks for not following procedure.’
‘Understood.’
He placed his hand on the door to the interview room and raised an eyebrow. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
Fifty
Matthew Whittaker sat, arms folded across his chest, his eyes downcast as Kay and Sharp entered the interview room.
Kay remained silent as she took the chair next to Sharp, and waited until he’d pressed the record button and formally cautioned Whittaker.
Sharp gave a curt nod to the solicitor and then clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward.
‘Now, Mr Whittaker, when you arrived at the reception desk forty minutes ago, you told our desk sergeant that you wished to make a statement, is that correct?’
‘That’s right. I think my wife murdered our daughter.’
‘That’s a very serious accusation, Mr Whittaker.’
The man blinked.
Kay spread out the annual accounts Carys had compiled for Matthew Whittaker’s business on the table in front of her, turning them so the rows of numbers faced Sophie’s father.
‘You’ve had some business ups and downs, Mr Whittaker.’ She stabbed her finger on one document that was several years old. ‘You were nearly bankrupted by the dot-com bubble, yet you’ve always managed to fight your way back.’
‘I’m good at what I do.’
‘I don’t doubt that. The question is – are you good enough?’ She tapped the latest reports. ‘Seems to me you’re doing little more than treading water these days. How is that affecting your relationship with Diane?’
‘What? What’s that got to do with it?’
‘Answer the question, Mr Whittaker,’ said Sharp.
Matthew sighed. ‘All right, well, I guess Diane will probably tell you. Our marriage is over.’ He ran a hand over his head. ‘It wasn’t brilliant before we lost Sophie, but since then it’s deteriorated.’
‘That can happen with families of victims,’ said Sharp. ‘Are you seeking help?’
The man shook his head. ‘Honestly, unless it involved financial help, Diane wouldn’t be interested.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘No, I think she’s come to the conclusion that she’s managed to suck me dry of everything I’m worth to her – my business is struggling, you’re right there, Detective – and she’s looking elsewhere for help.’
‘What about her inheritance?’ said Kay. ‘When the Earl died, didn’t he provide for you?’
‘Him?’ Whittaker emitted a bitter laugh. ‘Not a hope in hell. You should’ve seen Diane’s face when the will was read out – the man had racked up so many gambling debts he’d had to re-mortgage the house to pay them off. She was lucky she had a roof over her head at all.’ He clasped his hands together on the table. ‘Sometimes I wish she had lost the house.’
‘What about her mother?’
‘Diane’s mother died within a week of the Earl. Diane always maintained it was due to a broken heart, but it was more likely the gin consumption that finished off the old bitch.’
‘Was Sophie aware of your marriage problems?’
Tears welled up in his eyes and he angrily brushed them away. ‘It was never about Sophie. It was always about trying to save Diane’s bloody house. You know it’s falling down? I spent every penny I earned trying to renovate the place, but it’s rotting from the inside out.’ He snorted, his gaze falling to the table between them. ‘Just like the woman I married.’
‘Mr Whittaker, the fact that your marriage is breaking down isn’t the reason you’re accusing your wife of murder, is it? What proof do you have?’
Whittaker shrugged, but said nothing.
‘What’s your relationship with the Hamiltons like, Mr Whittaker?’
‘Relationship?’
‘Yes. Did you socialise with them outside of your church obligations?’
‘Well, yes, we met at different functions to do with mine and Blake’s businesses, and occasionally we’d have dinner with each other.’
‘It went further than that, though, didn’t it? Blake Hamilton was going to help bail out your business once Sophie got engaged to his son.’
Whittaker’s eyes fell to his lap. ‘I only found out about that after Sophie died. It was something he and Diane had arranged.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Feel?’ His head shot up, his expression incredulous. ‘How the hell do you think it made me feel? She’d sold our daughter! My little girl. I hated her for it. I still hate her for it. Do you know what we did this morning, Detective?’
Kay shook her head, but remained silent.
‘We were discussing our divorce. I filed for bankruptcy this morning, and apparently that’s too embarrassing for Diane and her
