‘Negril Bob, who’s he?’
‘Negril Bob, his real name is Robert Gosling, is a known killer. He was a professional soldier, former SAS. We are not sure how you connected with him, but we know that you were seen with him on one occasion and we have evidence, recently unearthed, that a sum of two hundred thousand pounds was deposited into his account.’
‘It was Gwen’s idea,’ Waverley said. It was not the first time that Isaac had seen it. The link was not yet made, and would probably be difficult to make, but presented with unassailable facts, the guilty often admit to the crime, almost as if they are attending confession and asking for the priest’s blessing.
‘We will check, and your wife may have been capable, but it is you, Mr Waverley, who is guilty. We will require a full written confession, duly signed by yourself.’
‘You’d better do what he says,’ Bamford said.
Isaac turned to Larry. ‘Arrange for Negril Bob to be brought to Challis Street. We need to charge him with the murders of Amelia Brice and Christine Devon.’
Isaac left the interview room and made some phone calls. The first he made was to Charisa Devon, the second to her brother, the third to Richard Goddard, the fourth to Superintendent Caddick. The fifth, the most important to him that day, to Ann, the PA of Phillip Loeb. This weekend he was free, and he intended to book a hotel close to Brighton; he knew she’d come.
The End.
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