‘Turning tricks in there?’
‘No doubt.’
‘We’re assuming one of the men is Wolfenden. He’s cornered, doesn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he’s keeping McIntyre off him, but on the other, he’s now involved. Could he have made a run for it, staying low?’
‘It’s what we would like to believe, but if Bob Palmer were closing in on this woman, McIntyre wouldn’t allow anyone to hide.’
‘Who’s he got working for him?’
‘Gareth Armstrong, the man’s butler, general dogsbody. He’s got a criminal record, no violence. He and McIntyre have known each other for a long time. One rose up in the criminal echelon, the other stayed with minor crime. Armstrong wasn’t a master criminal; got to know the insides of a few prisons before McIntyre employed him.’
‘Any chance of CCTV cameras?’
‘Not in the hotel,’ Bridget said.
‘How about on the street?’
‘I’m still trying.’
‘We know that Palmer left the hotel at close to ten minutes past three in the afternoon.’ Isaac said.
‘That’s the closest the woman could give us,’ Wendy said. ‘One of her favourite programmes was on television; it had just started.’
‘We were in Oxford,’ Isaac said, looking at Wendy. ‘We saw Armstrong leave at just after one in the afternoon.’
‘He took off in a hurry. Someone must’ve phoned him,’ Wendy said.
‘How long to get from Palmer’s house to that hotel?’
‘Under two hours, depends on the traffic. We were back in Challis Street before three.’
‘Could the third person have been Armstrong?’
‘There was blood in Palmer’s room, an attempt by someone in the bathroom to clean him up.’
‘Wolfenden wouldn’t have hit him, too scared to.’
‘Armstrong could have,’ Larry said.
‘This assumes the three men left the hotel and got into McIntyre’s Mercedes.’
‘Can we trace it? What do you reckon, Bridget?’
‘It depends on the woman in the reception, getting the time correct.’
‘Give her the benefit of the doubt, for now,’ Isaac said.
‘Can we trace the car’s movements?’
‘It’s an easy car to spot, a Mercedes,’ Bridget said.
***
Confirmation had been received that the blonde hairs found in Diane Connolly’s car and on Liz Spalding’s clothes were a perfect DNA match.
Samantha Matthews was at home when Larry and Isaac knocked on her door. Initially, she had been polite, inviting them in, offering them a cup of tea. But neither of the police officers was in the mood to mess around with her. This time Fergus Grantham was in the main room of the house. He was drinking a glass of red wine.
‘What is it, Officers?’ he said.
‘Are you Mrs Matthews’ lawyer? Isaac said. He realised they had intruded on an intimate moment; Grantham’s shirt, the top two buttons undone, a flushed look on Samantha Matthews’ face.
‘I am if it’s required,’ Grantham said. ‘Your knocking on the door of this house is becoming a bit of a habit, isn’t it?’
‘Then, Mr Grantham, I suggest that you advise your client.’ Isaac walked over to Samantha Matthews. ‘I’d like you to accompany us to Challis Street Police Station.’
‘What for?’
‘Mrs Matthews, I’m arresting you for the murder of Liz Spalding,’ Isaac said.
Grantham attempted to intercede, Isaac taking no notice of him.
‘This must be a joke, Chief Inspector,’ Samantha said.
‘It’s no joke. We can place you at the scene of the murder. You stole a car in St Austell, drove to Polperro, committed the crime. After that, you returned to St Austell.’
‘You can’t arrest my client,’ Grantham said.
‘We have a warrant for her arrest.’
‘My client, Mrs Matthews, has an unblemished record. She’s raised three children, all upstanding citizens. She’s active with the local church. How can she be guilty of a heinous crime?’
‘Mr Grantham, I suggest you accompany your client to the station. Once there, we’ll conduct an interview. She will have a chance to put forward her defence. You will be able to advise her. Outside the house is a police car. She will go to the station in that vehicle. Is that clear?’
Samantha Matthews looked at Fergus Grantham. ‘What can you do?’
‘Nothing at this time,’ he said. ‘We’ll have you out before the end of the day.’
Isaac knew he was taking a calculated risk. The truth was that they didn’t have proof that Samantha Matthews had thrown the other woman over the cliff.
What they had was a suspect that Palmer and the police believed was the murderer, the small tattoo clearly visible. They had matched DNA in Diane Connolly’s car and on Liz Spalding’s clothes. What they didn’t have was a match to Samantha Matthews’ hair.
***
Hamish McIntyre’s reaction was not unexpected when Samantha phoned him from the house.
‘Fergus?’ McIntyre’s response after the initial shock.
‘He’s here with me. Don’t worry, nothing will happen.’
‘What’s the charge?’
‘The police say I murdered a woman. It’s pure conjecture.’
McIntyre did not comment. She could lie to the police as much as she liked, but not to him. He would have preferred that she hadn’t committed the act, but guilty or not guilty, he would ensure that no jury would ever convict her.
‘Give Fergus the phone,’ McIntyre said.
Samantha handed over the phone, Fergus put it to his ear. ‘I’ll deal with it, don’t you worry,’ he said.
But Hamish McIntyre did. If you commit a crime, trivial or not, you make sure there is never any evidence. But his daughter wasn’t a criminal. Did she have the inherited knowledge to ensure that no evidence would be found?
‘I’ll be at the police station,’ McIntyre said.
‘I’ll have your daughter out soon enough,’ Grantham said. He hoped he was not going to be drawn into the crime due to his relationship with Samantha. And if he was, how far would he go to protect her, especially if
