Ferreira straightened in her chair again, making eye contact with Parr who just nodded at her, a look of satisfaction on his face.
Carver kept going. ‘Michaela says, “Imagine if we treated one of their staff like they’ve treated the inmates.” And I laughed at her because it was just so ridiculous. She wasn’t very happy about that. But Damien was mouthing off again, saying they could record the whole thing, put it online, show people the reality of locking up innocent civilians.’
‘Is this the kind of thing they usually talk about?’ Ferreira asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.
‘No, not really. I just put it down to the drink, but then I saw about that doctor getting murdered on the news, and I was wondering if it was important when you called me.’ A drawer slid open and closed his end, and Ferreira pictured him in some office, this man who’d got saddled with the Paggetts as in-laws. ‘I don’t know if they’re actually capable of kidnapping but they’ve done some serious stuff, haven’t they? In the past. I mean, they can say it’s not like being criminals because it’s political activism, but they’ve committed crimes.’
Haven’t they just, Ferreira thought.
All that preparation, all those trespass charges and the accusations of intimidation.
This was the logical next step.
A spectacle.
‘What time did Damien and Michaela leave your house, Mr Carver?’
‘Around eight.’
Ferreira glanced at the board: the Paggetts claimed they’d been there into the early hours of Sunday morning.
‘Eight in the evening?’
‘It was an afternoon barbecue,’ he said. ‘We’re all boring olds, Sergeant. None of us can manage all-night parties any more.’
‘Would you be prepared to come in and make an official statement about what you’ve just told me?’ Ferreira asked, looking at the photos of the Paggetts on the board.
‘If you need me to, sure. I could come on my lunch hour, I’m only five minutes away.’
She thanked him and passed him back to Parr.
‘Get the name of that neighbour,’ she told him. ‘We need to be sure this isn’t just some family drama.’
But she didn’t think it was that, despite the relish in Carver’s tone and the way his words tumbled out. And even if it was some long-held grudge at play, that hardly mattered. As long as what he’d said was true.
Ferreira went into Zigic’s office and told him what Carver had told her.
‘An attempted kidnapping gone wrong?’ he asked, not quite incredulously but she could sense the resistance in him, the annoyance too maybe, that the case was heading in a direction he’d wanted to avoid. ‘That’s your theory?’
‘I feel like I keep saying this,’ she told him. ‘But the Paggetts have been hanging around Long Fleet staff members’ houses for some reason. This could be it.’
‘It seems a very half-arsed attempt.’
‘They get drunk and wound up and go off half-cocked,’ she said, playing the scene out in her head. ‘They knock on the door, overpower Ainsworth. He puts up a fight and gets knocked out. Nobody’s saying they’re criminal geniuses.’
‘He gets knocked out isn’t the end of it though, is it?’ Zigic said, putting up a staying hand. ‘If they went after him without thinking it through, why would one of them then beat his head in?’
‘How many murders are committed to cover up other crimes?’ she asked. ‘We see it all the time. They tried to kidnap him and failed and he knew who they were so they killed him.’
Zigic sighed. ‘We’re going to need more than drunken party talk.’
‘What, like a concerted harassment campaign in the run-up?’
‘Witnesses,’ he said firmly. ‘Forensic evidence.’
‘They’ve already lied to us about their alibi,’ she told him. ‘They said they were still at the Carvers’ house when Josh Ainsworth was murdered, but they left at eight p.m.’
‘And why would they lie about the time unless they knew when he was murdered?’ Zigic asked, as she was poised to say the same thing.
‘Exactly.’
‘Okay, pull them in.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It was a smaller protest outside the Long Fleet gates that morning. Smaller and more subdued. Placards leaned on rather than waved, a couple of the older women sitting on the ground with a banner spread across their thighs. The heat was punishing as midday approached and Ferreira found herself wondering at their dedication. Could think of very little that would impel her to spend her days standing by the side of a dusty road in thirty-degree heat, getting more abuse than support from the passing drivers.
They stirred as she pulled up, two patrol cars behind her.
The Paggetts looked nervously at one another, stepped away from the rest of the group, who noticed the move and stiffened their postures in preparation. All except Ruby Garrick. She folded her arms, watching the Paggetts as their conversation became more heated.
‘Damien and Michaela Paggett,’ Ferreira said, striding across the road. ‘I’d like you to come with us.’
‘We don’t have to go anywhere with you,’ Michaela snapped.
‘What’s this about?’ Damien asked nervously, still trying to act the innocent man.
‘What do you think it’s about?’ Ferreira said. ‘When you lie to the police, you get pulled in. You should know that by now.’
‘We haven’t lied,’ he said, but there was little force in his voice.
Ferreira read them their rights, seeing Damien’s shoulders slump as Michaela’s firmed for action. When PC Green approached her, Michaela dropped to the ground, making her body a dead weight. Green just sighed and went to get hold of her under the arms, while PC Barnes hitched his belt up and steeled himself, grunting as he lifted her feet.
‘This is harassment,’ Michaela shouted. ‘This is what they do to us when we stand up for our principles.’ She kept shouting as she was carried awkwardly across the road. ‘The police are tools of Securitect, doing their dirty work trying to silence us. But
