She avoided Barnes’s eyes, knowing he was itching to aim a witty retort at the eager young criminal solicitor, and instead reached over to begin the recording.
She formally cautioned the man sat in front of her, waited while Barnes settled into his seat, and then opened a folder and slid a photograph of the crashed vehicle across the table.
‘Right, Mr Hudson. This car was involved in an accident two nights ago on the M20 near Harrietsham. The driver is currently in hospital, and the body of this woman—,’ she said, pausing to slide another photograph across the table, ‘—was found in the boot of the car. Dead. Now, perhaps you could explain to me why we found your fingerprints on the vehicle.’
The young solicitor paled at the sight of the woman’s body.
Patrick, the CSI photographer, had taken a number of images from the scene of the accident, and Barnes had chosen the most shocking one he could find, in the hope it would elicit a response from the known criminal.
Hudson leaned forward, his hands in his pockets, and peered at the two photographs, then shook his head.
‘Don’t know anything about that.’
‘When did you last come into contact with the vehicle?’
Easing back into his seat, Hudson stared at Kay through hooded eyes. ‘Can’t say I recall.’
‘When was the last time you saw the vehicle?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Maybe three or four months ago.’
‘Who did the vehicle belong to?’
‘Not me.’
‘That’s fine. Who did own it?’
Another shrug. ‘Not sure. I didn’t drive it. I was just a passenger in it a couple of times.’
‘A couple of times? Right, and where were you going as a passenger in the vehicle those times?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘Who was driving?’
‘Can’t remember.’
Kay narrowed her eyes. ‘You might want to work on your recall a bit, Gary. At the present time, we’re investigating a murder.’ She tapped the photograph of the dead woman. ‘With your fingerprints on the vehicle, you’re currently a suspect in that murder.’
Hudson shrugged, his expression bored.
‘Fine,’ said Kay, and stood. ‘Interview terminated at five-fifteen. Mr…?’
‘Dundas,’ said the young solicitor.
‘We’ll be holding your client in the cells overnight pending further enquiries, Mr Dundas. We’ll be in touch when we’re ready to speak with him again. You may want to have a quiet word with him about being a bit more forthcoming with his answers, to avoid another conviction being added to his existing tally.’
The solicitor’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly as Kay and Barnes left the room.
Reaching the corridor, Kay signalled to the custody sergeant to take Hudson to the cells, and then turned to her colleague.
‘Let’s hope his friend is a bit more chatty.’
‘Let’s hope his duty solicitor looks older than twelve.’
‘Couldn’t fault his enthusiasm, though, could you? I thought he’d lit a rocket under his backside when we walked in.’
Barnes grinned, then straightened his face and pushed open the door to the second interview room.
Kay recognised the older solicitor, nodded to him, then let Barnes begin the recording and cite the relevant caution.
John Millard was another career criminal who they’d arrested time and time again over the years for vehicle theft, drug offences and the like and seemed as unimpressed as Hudson at being interviewed.
As the older detective worked through a similar set of questions and displayed the photographs from the crash scene in front of the man, Kay checked her notes against what they had learned to date.
‘Your fingerprints were found on the steering column of the vehicle, Millard,’ said Barnes. ‘Now, why would that be?’
Millard was younger than his counterpart, and not as experienced in being questioned by the police. His eyes shifted from left to right, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his gaze fell to the image of the dead woman once more.
His shoulders hunched over as he moved his arms across his chest, and Kay noticed a slight trembling of his hands.
‘John, I know you’re scared, but we really need to find out what happened to this woman.’
Millard lifted his gaze to hers, and swallowed. ‘He’ll kill me.’
‘We can do our best to protect you.’
‘I-I’ve got a young family.’
‘Tell us what you know, Millard,’ said Barnes. ‘The quicker we finish this conversation, the quicker we can start the process to ensure their safety.’
‘My daughter’s only six. Can you imagine what he’d do to her?’
He lifted a shaking hand to a scab on his jaw and ran his fingers across it, his eyes returning to the photograph of the dead woman.
Kay leaned forward before he drew blood from the old wound. ‘Tell us, John.’
‘I – I think I drove it,’ he said, dropping his hand into his lap. ‘Once or twice.’
‘Whose car was it?’
‘Not sure. I had to pick it up from a lay-by outside Ashford, on the Tenterden Road. That’s all I know. Honest. Keys were hidden in the wheel arch.’
‘What did you use the vehicle for?’
‘Nothing much.’
‘Elaborate, please John,’ said Kay.
‘That means tell us in more detail,’ said Barnes as confusion spread across the man’s face.
‘This and that. One time, I had to pick up some cheap booze from a supermarket at Calais. That sort of thing. Nothing illegal,’ he added, his eyes wide.
Fifteen minutes later, and Kay and Barnes had gleaned no further information from Millard. Like his colleague, he was choosing to remain silent rather than implicate himself or his boss in any investigation.
Frustrated, they ended the interviews, sent the men back to the cells, and trudged back to the incident room.
Debbie handed them both a mug of tea as they took their seats and brought the rest of the team up to date with their findings.
It didn’t take long.
‘Okay, well Carys had a bit more luck with the vehicle, so we’re not done yet,’ said Sharp. He tapped his finger on the licence plate in one of the photographs of the crash site pinned to the whiteboard. ‘The Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency have a record of this car being sold three months ago by
