Richard Williams commenced. ‘I have maintained a relationship with Marjorie Frobisher over the years. This has been infrequent in its nature, but as I had indicated before, we have a history of when we were both struggling to make our way in the world. There have been years when we have just been friends, others where we have been intimate.
‘Marjorie phoned me from Malvern. I went there to meet her. The programme was in need of her, and I did not want her to be absent. There are a number of reasons as to why I did not tell you, not the least that I am genuinely fond of the woman. Also, the ratings and the advertising revenue were sure to be enhanced by her being on the screen, grieving elder sister, vengeful and determined slayer of those who had killed her brother.
‘She was frightened. I reasoned with her, and she agreed to return to London within a few days. I offered to provide her with security, although the reason it was needed remained obscure. That is the end of my statement.’
‘Do you have any knowledge of why she was frightened?’ Isaac asked.
‘She has skeletons in the cupboard, the same as most people.’
‘Hers were substantial?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you aware of a child?’
‘I am.’
‘Is there any more you can tell us about this child?’
‘It was before we met.’
‘Was the child yours?’
The QC intervened. ‘My client will not answer that question.’
‘It’s okay, Quinton,’ Williams said.
‘The child was not mine.’ He addressed Isaac.
‘Do you know who the father is?’
‘She would never tell me.’
‘Did she know?’
‘Are you insinuating that she may have been sleeping with more than one man?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s possible, of course. She was promiscuous in a casual manner. Most people were then. It was a time before HIV and Aids.’
Does Robert Avers know about this child?’
‘How would I know? You’d better ask him.’
‘Do you think he knows?’
‘No idea.’
Isaac could see that he had exhausted one line of questioning. He could not fault Richard Williams in his responses. ‘Did you at a party at her house have sexual relations with Marjorie Frobisher?’
‘Are you trying to imply that because of Charles Sutherland and his daughter, I am somehow responsible for his death?’
‘I am purely attempting to ascertain whether you deny the incident.’
‘I’d prefer to forget it.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Her daughter, plain Jane, legs up in the air with Charles Sutherland’s bare arse bobbing up and down. Not one of the prettiest sights.’
‘How did Marjorie Frobisher react?’
‘Badly.’
‘Out of shame?’
‘No. She had just had the sofa reupholstered. Her daughter and Sutherland were hardly the cleanest of people. She didn’t want him spraying his mongrel sperm over it.’
‘She didn’t care about the daughter?’
‘She never had. Why should she start then?’
‘Fiona Avers has a reason to dislike her mother,’ Isaac commented.
‘I didn’t like the way Marjorie treated her children, but it wasn’t for me to complain. That was Robert Avers’ responsibility.’
‘Is there any more?’ Quinton Scott asked. ‘It appears that we have lapsed into innuendo and questions on morality.’
Isaac followed official police procedures and then hit the stop button.
Williams and Scott left soon after. Isaac spoke to Farhan. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘He answered the questions. I can’t see that he has a motive for murder.’
***
Isaac and Farhan had been tailed in their cars again. They contacted Richard Goddard. Usually, they would have just contacted the vehicle identification department, but they knew the car registrations would be classified.
Wendy, back in the office, had rearranged the furniture, to Farhan’s chagrin. She reckoned the two cars tailing them might be tied in with the two men that Bert, the taxi driver, had mentioned in Malvern. Isaac was not pleased with her presence in the office, as not only did they have to contend with the smell of stale cigarette smoke, now they had the smell of wine too. Farhan was certain that she was slightly hungover.
As soon as she had debriefed them, she decided to focus her investigations at Paddington Station. On the way through Worcester, she had spoken to the ticket seller on duty at the railway station. It had been busy the day that Bert had dropped off Marjorie Frobisher, the ticket seller had said. And besides, he added, most tickets are sold from a machine. She had managed to get tapes from the security cameras at the station. They were typically kept for a period of time and then erased. One day more, he had told her, and the video would have been gone forever. The tapes she passed over to Constable Bridget Halloran, the CCTV viewing officer, on arriving at Challis Street. She would scan through using facial recognition technology and a trained eye.
Her time in the office with Isaac and Farhan was brief, and she soon left. Farhan moved his desk to where it had been at the first opportunity.
‘What did the two women he paid for say? Did they see anything?’ Isaac asked.
‘I’ve already told you.’
‘I know that, but we need to be sure about this. We are aware of a child. We know of Charles Sutherland, who said he knew something. We have Richard Williams, who says he doesn’t know who the child is. If Williams doesn’t know, how would Sutherland?’
‘He must have overheard something,’ Farhan said.
‘If he heard Marjorie Frobisher talking on a mobile phone, that would be a one-sided conversation, and she’s hardly likely to say the child’s name.’
‘She could have told him.’
‘If she wouldn’t tell Richard Williams, she’s hardly likely to tell Sutherland.’
‘What if she told Williams?’ Farhan asked.
‘If she did, then it means two things.’
‘One, he lied to us, and two, he’s a potential target.’
‘Are we conclusively stating that Charles
