‘Where was it heading?’
‘Paddington. Two and a half hours. I take it myself when Arsenal is playing at home.’
‘She never arrived.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that. She paid my money, and as I said, she dashed off. There wasn’t another train for some time after, so I can’t see where else she could have gone.’
‘The other two men. What can you tell me about them?’
‘They sat in the back of the taxi and asked me to drive them around the area. They said they were up for a business conference and were taking the opportunity of a couple of hours to do some sightseeing.’
‘Did you believe them?’
‘No way.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It was raining heavily, could barely see where I was going, and there were no business conferences that I knew of.’
‘Would you know if there was?’
‘I’m confident I would.’
‘As you’re driving around, what did they ask?’
‘They made small talk, and then they started asking about this woman.’
‘Which one?’
‘This Marjorie Frobisher.’
‘Did that cause you some concern?’
‘It did. How did they know about her? They weren’t staying at the Abbey. I know that Felicity Pearson is a bit of a gossip, but why should two men, business men, be interested in the whereabouts of a woman off a programme on the television.’
‘Did they say why they were interested?’
‘I asked. They made up some lame reason that their wives watched the programme. Then they started offering me money, wanting to take me to the pub for a few drinks.’
‘Did you tell them what you told me?’
‘No. I just said that my shift was coming to a close, which wasn’t true, and dropped them back at the taxi rank. That’s the last I saw of them.’
‘Why didn’t you tell them anything?’
‘You were honest. Bought me a nice meal.’
‘Is that the only reason?’
‘It’s a good enough reason for me,’ he said. There was still half a bottle of a good wine to drink. Wendy thought they might be able to drink another bottle after that. She was sure Bert would not object.
Chapter 22
Richard Williams did not appreciate the official request to present himself at the police station. He was a man used to giving orders, not receiving them. ‘What right have you to demand my presence here? I’m a busy man.’
‘Some new information has come to light. Information in relation to you,’ Isaac said. Farhan, as usual, at his left. Richard Williams, dressed formally in a suit, sat opposite Isaac. He had brought legal representation: Quinton Scott, Queen’s Counsel, of Scott, Scott and Fairlight. To Isaac, he looked landed gentry. To Farhan, he looked like a man who did not appreciate anyone who had not been born with a silver spoon in their mouth, or a white complexion with blue eyes. He had reluctantly shaken Isaac’s hand, made a clear attempt to avoid repeating the same mistake with him.
Isaac commenced the interview, following the official procedure, noting the time of the interview, informing the client of his rights and asking those present to state their names and details.
‘My client is here at the express request of the police. He is willing to answer any reasonable questions that are put to him,’ Williams’ QC said.
‘Mr Williams, we are in possession of information that clearly indicates you lied to us on previous occasions,’ Isaac said.
‘I reject that accusation. I have upheld my responsibility and always given the truth when asked.’
‘I hope that these accusations can be validated. It will be seen as police harassment if they are fabrications. The Commissioner of Police, Charles Shaw, will take a dim view of this if I am obliged to inform him, Scott said. Isaac, a usually patient man, was enraged at the QC’s attempt at intimidation.
‘Let me remind you that this is a murder investigation,’ Isaac said. ‘I am sure that Commissioner Shaw will fully endorse my position.’
‘Very well, continue.’ Quinton Scott appeared subdued for the moment.
‘Mr Williams, you mentioned on a previous occasion in your office that your relationship, your intimate relationship with Marjorie Frobisher, occurred many years ago, and that you have remained as friends since then.’
‘That is correct.’
‘Recent information indicates that your relationship has continued.’
‘Our friendship has.’
‘There was a party at Marjorie Frobisher’s house when it became more than a friendship.’
‘Who told you this?’ Williams said. His legal adviser maintained a thoughtful pose, arms folded, listening to the conversation.
‘Is this true?’
‘No.’
‘Mr Williams, I am led to believe you are lying. We are not here to pass moral judgement, we are here to ascertain the truth. Whether you are or are not sleeping with her only concerns us in relation to our enquiries.’
Quinton Scott felt the need to speak. ‘My client has clearly indicated the current and past statuses. He is not required to say anymore.’
‘That is his right,’ Isaac continued. ‘However, Mr Williams is the last person to have seen Marjorie Frobisher alive, and that is by his own admission.’
‘Is that correct?’ Quinton Scott turned towards his client to ask.
‘I knew she was in Malvern, at least for some of the time. I went there and met her.’
Quinton Scott turned to Isaac, ‘DCI Cook, I would request fifteen minutes with my client.’
‘Interview halted at 11.30 a.m.’
‘Thank you,’ the QC said.
‘I’ll send in two coffees,’ Farhan said.
A begrudging grunt from the QC; thanks from Williams.
***
Forty minutes later the interview recommenced. In the interval, Farhan and Isaac had managed to grab a bite to eat. Richard Williams and Quinton Scott had asked for a pizza each. A young female police officer had delivered them to the interview room.
‘Interview resumed at 12.10.’
‘My client would like to
