‘Guv.’
‘We received a tip-off while we were attending the crime scene that led to the arrest of Peter Evans,’ Sharp continued, ‘who right now is a guest in our custody suite downstairs. When DS Hunter arrived at his residential address, Evans had a packed suitcase containing some of Sophie Whittaker’s clothes, together with her passport. Blood was found on his bedclothes. He denies all knowledge of Sophie’s murder, and I’ve placed him on suicide watch while we continue our investigation.’
Silence filled the room, save for the scratching of pens in notebooks.
‘We’ll be conducting a further interview with the suspect after this briefing.’ Sharp checked his watch. ‘DCI Larch has requested that the post mortem be fast-tracked, but it will still be at least forty-eight hours or more before we get those results. So,’ he said, and turned to each member of the team, ‘unless we get an extension, we work on the basis we have ninety-six hours to prove our suspect’s guilt or otherwise. Larch?’
‘Thank you, Sharp.’ The DCI stepped forward. ‘I’ll be monitoring this case closely. Sophie Whittaker’s godfather is the Right Honourable Richard Fremchurch, and he’s going to expect a tidy investigation with a quick result.’ He glared at the team. ‘None of the detail about this investigation will be passed on to the media by anyone in this room other than me, is that understood?’
A murmur filled the room, as the team acknowledged their understanding.
‘Right, please continue,’ said Larch, and nodded at Sharp.
‘Okay, tasks for today,’ said Sharp. ‘Carys – I’d like you to observe the first interview. We’ll have a chat afterwards about your initial thoughts. Follow up with Harriet after we’ve interviewed Evans and see if her team have found anything else at his property.’
‘Will do, guv.’
Kay smiled at the detective constable as she wrote in her notebook.
She’d worked with Carys Miles for a while now, and admired her tenacity. Her sense of duty had nearly cost her dearly in the last case they’d worked together on and the incident had calmed her ambition, but only a little.
‘Gavin – you start looking into Peter Evans’s background. I want to be able to corroborate as much as possible with what he tells us.’
Gavin Piper nodded, and Kay noticed his bloodshot eyes. His spiky blond hair looked more dishevelled than usual, and she realised he’d probably spent most of the night working to get the witness statements from the Whittakers’ party guests gathered. She made a note to get one of the administrative staff to run out and buy him a proper coffee from their favourite café up the road once the briefing had ended.
She glanced back to the front of the room as Sharp turned his attention to her. ‘Kay, I want you to interview Sophie’s parents. Take Barnes with you.’
‘For chrissakes, Hunter – tread carefully when you’re speaking with the parents,’ Larch said, pointing his finger at her. ‘I will hear about it if you don’t play this one by the book.’
He stalked off, leaving a trail of strong aftershave in his wake.
Sharp tapped the whiteboard marker pen against his chin as he watched the older detective depart, and then dropped it onto the shelf below the board. ‘All right, that’s enough for now. Let’s get on with it.’
Seven
Kay scrolled her way through a backlog of emails on her phone as Barnes swung the car into the turning for the Whittakers’ house.
She lowered it, and tried not to let her jaw drop at her surroundings.
In daylight, the driveway leading to the house provided a sweeping view over the North Downs, the M20 motorway and Eurostar train route carving two distinct lines through the landscape. As Barnes slowed the vehicle to follow the gravelled track around a right-hand curve towards the house, Kay craned her neck to see the tall chimneys that towered above the building. Ivy climbed the walls, reaching upwards to the topmost windows, while a wisteria embraced the ornate front porch.
‘Nice work, if you can get it,’ he said.
‘No kidding. I can’t help wondering if they’ll stay here now, though.’
‘Yeah. I don’t know if I could.’
The driveway widened out as they approached the house and Barnes brought the car to a standstill beside a white panel van.
Kay climbed from the passenger seat, put her phone back in her bag and waited for Barnes to join her.
‘How do you want to do this?’
‘I think you’d be better speaking to Diane,’ said Kay. She swallowed, and turned away so he couldn’t see her face. ‘You’ve got a kid, so you’ll probably be better than me at it. I’ll take Matthew.’
‘Okay.’
As they began to walk towards the front door, it was flung open and a large man with a beer belly waddled down the front steps, his face etched with fury.
He brushed past Kay, stormed over to the van, climbed in, and pulled away with such speed that he sent gravel flying up against Barnes’s pool car, chipping the paintwork.
‘Did you get the registration?’ said Kay.
‘Got it.’
‘I’m so sorry about that.’
They both turned to see Matthew Whittaker standing on the doorstep, his face stricken.
‘Who was he?’ asked Kay.
‘The man in charge of the marquee hire. Your lot are still here, it’s all taped off, and he won’t waive
