‘Up above the garage.’
‘You never answered the question about the farm,’ Isaac said.
‘If bodies are found on a farm that I never visit, then how can I be responsible?’
‘The Charles Stanford defence. Are you certain you’ve not had any contact with the man?’
‘Believe me, Inspector Cook, I’m not a man without influence. My memory is long, and I never forget.’
‘Then you can tell us what happened to Stephen Palmer,’ Isaac said. Larry could see Isaac testing the man; it was a technique he’d used before, often successfully, but McIntyre was the most dangerous person they had dealt with. ‘Samantha has told you about her affair with Palmer.’
‘It was a long-time ago.’
Isaac and Larry left the front door and walked around to the garage. At the side of it, a set of stairs. The crime scene investigators were upstairs already.
‘You know what you’re looking for?’ Meston said.
‘Size 44 shoe, a Blake-stitched sole, “Made in Italy” stamped on them,’ one of them said.
‘He keeps the place tidy,’ Meston said. ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult to find them.’
Larry had kitted up and entered Armstrong’s residence. ‘Anything?’ he said to Meston.
‘Anywhere else?’
‘I’d try the boot of the car. The man’s hardly the master criminal judging by the number of times he’s been to prison.’
Downstairs, the car was unlocked. One of the CSI’s opened the boot, pushed a blanket to one side, a couple of bags. He picked up a pair of shoes and put them into a large evidence bag.
‘Underneath?’ Larry said.
‘A pair of shoes. They’ll match the shoe prints we found at the barn.’
Samantha Matthews might be able to put forward a robust defence, but now her father’s farm was the scene of two murders, and the CSIs were still looking for more bodies.
The handcuffs had been applied, Armstrong protesting his innocence. He was soon on his way to Challis Street. There he would be subjected to a lengthy interview, the chance to plead his case, to admit to his guilt.
Isaac wondered if McIntyre would be as generous to the man as he had been to his daughter, and that Armstrong would have Grantham as his lawyer.
***
The optimism that the Homicide team had had earlier, and which Isaac had cautioned against, was starting to affect him. Three murders out of five had been solved. There were two to go, but each of them had question marks against them.
Only two men could lay claim to the murder of Stephen Palmer, and one of them was dead, and the other one was under pressure, but he wasn’t a man to give in without a fight.
The team revisited the CCTV evidence from the time of Stephen Palmer’s death. It proved to be no more useful the second time.
Isaac had to admit that the probability of a conviction for that crime was low.
Down in Brighton, Wally Vincent was keeping in contact with Charles Stanford. Not that anything new was coming from that quarter, and the man, though not yet back to his old miserable self, was heading in that general direction.
‘We had a complaint,’ Vincent said. ‘The yapping dog again. The owner said that Stanford had sworn at the dog and at her. Not that I can blame him. I was there a few days back, and the dog’s going on at me.’
‘What did you do?’ Larry said.
‘The owner wasn’t looking so I gave it a swift kick. Did better than Stanford’s rock-throwing, stopped it making a noise. When I came out of his house later, the dog made off, looked at me sideways from behind a gate. The damn animal’s a nuisance, but the law’s on the dog’s side, not his.’
‘You’re up to date with the other murders?’
‘So’s my superintendent. He’s on to me to shape up and start solving murders. Not sure how I can from down here, not unless Stanford’s involved. Are you sure he’s innocent?’
‘Of murdering Marcus Matthews, yes. Give me time to get down there, and we can go and see him again,’ Larry said. ‘Lay everything at his feet, tell him about the two arrests we’ve made, the three murders solved, the fact that we’re looking to solve the fourth.’
‘What do you hope to achieve?’
‘Stanford’s played us for fools. He’s been a barrister, a judge, a QC. He’s seen every trick in the book, met with every devious character, even McIntyre. If he’s lying about something, although why makes no sense, he would be convincing.’
‘It’s a long shot.’
‘It’s the only shot we’ve got. If McIntyre’s behind it, he’ll not talk, and at this time, he’s preoccupied protecting his daughter, distancing himself from the murders at his farm.’
The two men met outside Stanford’s house two hours later, Larry no longer feeling intimidated by Vincent’s appearance.
Across the road, a small dog looked across suspiciously. Wally looked over at it, bared his teeth and growled; the dog took off.
‘Life would be easier if we could sort out all the criminals like that,’ Larry said.
‘It’s not the dog, it’s the owner who hasn’t trained it.’
The door of the house opened. ‘Are you coming in, or aren’t you?’ Stanford said.
‘Into the devil’s lair,’ Vincent said under his breath to Larry. Larry knew what he meant.
‘That dog’s not so keen on barking,’ Stanford said.
‘I’ve dealt with it for you’
‘What is it you want?’
‘We want to update you on our murder investigations.’
‘Why? Should I be interested?’
‘We’d appreciate your perspective,’ Larry said. However, he thought that the truth would be more advantageous.
‘Up to you. I can give you an hour.’
‘We’ve arrested Hamish McIntyre’s daughter for the murder of Liz Spalding. It’s first-degree murder, but she’ll probably not be sentenced for that, more likely second-degree, possibly manslaughter.’
‘McIntyre won’t allow her to go to prison.’
‘What
