‘The question was valid.’
‘Christine Devon worked for me for a short period of time. I did not know the woman other than in a professional capacity. I knew Amelia Brice’s father, and I had met his daughter once. Her death is disturbing, as is Christine Devon’s, but I was not involved. A tax audit will result in a fine at most, and a time to pay any outstanding monies. As you can see, their deaths have inconvenienced me. I do not have any motive to want them dead.’
‘A complete check of your records, your bank statements, will continue,’ Wendy said.
‘It appears that your interest in me has permeated through to my clientele.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Most of them have cancelled my contract with them.’
‘We would not have told anyone.’
‘I realise that, but someone has.’
‘Any ideas?’
Wendy looked at the woman, unsure why she had come voluntarily to the station. She had said nothing other than admitting to irregularities in her financial records. Shirley O’Rourke, it was assumed, was talking about thousands of pounds over the years.
This was the first time that Isaac had met the woman. He knew her to be fifty-eight, although she looked older. She dressed well enough, the sort of clothes that could be bought in a high street clothing store. For a woman who had supposedly made herself rich, she did not show it. Isaac assumed it was the woman’s nature, her frugality.
‘Mrs O’Rourke, we are confused as to why you have come here today,’ Wendy said. ‘If you have cheated on your taxes, that is either fraud or not.’
‘I needed to clear the air, to explain my innocence. I am a hard-nosed businesswoman, that’s all.’
‘Let us come back to Christine Devon,’ Isaac said.
‘The woman applied for a job; she had the necessary qualifications and suitable references.’
‘You checked?’
‘Always. And besides, it’s becoming increasingly hard to get good staff. Most would rather scrounge off the government than work. Mrs Devon never gave any trouble. She did the job, and I paid her on time.’
‘Minimum wage?’ Wendy asked.
‘I run a business, not a charity. No doubt some of the homeowners would have given her tips.’
‘One avenue of enquiry is that Amelia Brice and Christine Devon shared some common knowledge. We’ve assumed that it was gang-related, or possibly politically-related, given Amelia’s father’s friendship with those in power.’
‘What’s this got to do with me?’
‘Do you have any ideas as to what it might have been?’
‘Not me. I didn’t speak to Mrs Devon often, and Amelia, never.’
‘But her father? You’d speak to him.’
‘Sometimes. We understood each other.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’d both come from nothing. We could speak to each other without any pretence.’
‘Is what we’re seeing from you today, a pretence?’
‘Not at all. I grew up in Ireland. We were dirt poor. Do you know what that means?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Wendy said. ‘Subsistence farming.’
‘Then you’ll understand the need to better yourself.’
‘I can understand, but I’ve remained honest, whereas you haven’t.’
‘Insults are not appropriate,’ Peregrine Woodley said.
‘My apologies.’
‘Mrs O’Rourke, I put it to you that you are worried that we will find more,’ Isaac said. ‘That we will find fraudulent insurance claims from homeowners that tie in with your cleaning of their houses. It will be a criminal offence if you have knowingly received stolen goods and then sold them, sometimes with the homeowner’s permission, sometimes without. How do you plead, Mrs O’Rourke, guilty or not guilty? We will uncover the truth.’
‘This is unacceptable,’ Woodley said. Isaac ignored him.
‘Did Amelia offer you a deal?’
‘I must protest,’ Woodley said. Yet again, Isaac ignored him.
‘Or maybe her father was starting to tighten up on her lifestyle. We know he did not approve of the drugs or the men. Amelia was desperate; the word was around that you can help out. You approached Christine Devon: knocked over that vase, destroyed that painting, stole some jewellery and replaced it with a fake, and there was Christine Devon refusing to turn a blind eye. What did you do? Call someone you knew? You’ve lived around here long enough. You know someone who can rid you of two troublesome women: one desperate that the plan has gone awry, angry, wanting to lash out, tell the police, and another woman, honest and decent, refusing to go along with it. You’re cornered. Your business and your reputation are compromised. You take the only option possible.’
‘That’s lies, scurrilous lies. Woodley, do something. Don’t sit there like a lemon,’ Shirley O’Rourke said.
‘I’ll be making a formal complaint,’ Woodley said.
‘That’s your prerogative,’ Isaac said. He had shaken up the case. He knew that Shirley O’Rourke, if she were guilty, would react with more urgency. Wendy could keep a watch on her.
‘I’ll need a full transcript and copies of this interview,’ Woodley said.
‘They will be supplied.’
The interview ended, and Shirley O’Rourke and her lawyer left.
‘You were tough there,’ Wendy said.
‘Just keep an eye on her. See what she does,’ Isaac said.
Chapter 10
There was nothing that Isaac Cook disliked more than an investigation that was going nowhere. And whereas Shirley O’Rourke had felt the heat from him, he was not sure of her guilt. To him, she was a woman who skirted around the boundary between right and wrong. She may well have acted in collusion with some of the homeowners to allow fraudulent insurance claims; she may have been responsible for the theft of money and valuables. A conviction for receiving stolen goods was one thing, but murder was different altogether.
Wendy, Isaac’s dependable sergeant, was not as convinced, although proof would be difficult. She had not liked the woman from first meeting her, and after the interview she liked her even less.
