Tom looked at Cassie and something unsaid passed between them. "Whatever was going on, Gage wasn't happy about it. I should have abandoned the idea there and then, seeing he was in such a foul mood, but… I didn't. She left and I went in."
"And what time was this?" Tom asked.
"Not sure," he said, looking up and thinking hard. "Four-thirty, five o'clock maybe."
"Go on."
Hansell exhaled loudly, scratching at the side of his head. "Not much more to say, really. We talked, he… Gage flatly refused to alter his plans. I don't know what happened… what came over me exactly. Looking back, it was kind of like some sort of out-of-body experience. I felt the anger rising. I've heard that some people describe a red-mist effect coming down, losing control of themselves." He looked at Tom and Cassie in turn, no doubt reading the scepticism in their expressions. "I can't get behind that, I'm afraid. I was there. I was very much present, but it still doesn't feel like it was me. I'm not a violent man, Inspector. Quite the opposite."
"But you picked up a knife," Tom said slowly. "And then you stabbed him with it."
Hansell drew a breath and then rubbed at his mouth and the base of his nose, nodding. "Yes, I did."
"How many times?"
"Three."
The answer was cold, devoid of acknowledgement of the consequences.
"The first surprised me," Hansell said. "The knife was right there. I think he'd used it for preparing lunch as it was lying next to a chopping board. I reached for it and he turned, seeing me standing there holding the knife." His face took on a peculiar expression. Tom wondered if he was recollecting the moment in his mind's eye. "He laughed. He laughed at me… and I stabbed him. The look on his face… shock, horror… and surprise."
"And then?"
Hansell shook his head. "He reached for me and I stepped back. He took a step and I stabbed him again, two more times. I swear he couldn't believe it. Nor could I. Then… he sort of slumped down to the floor and fell forward, breathing out this really odd gurgling sound. I can't describe it any better than that. It was all so surreal."
"And what did you do then?" Tom asked.
"I left, of course. I threw the knife into the marsh before getting into my car. I was surprised how little blood there was. I thought if you stabbed someone, the blood splashes out all over you but it didn't. I mean, I had some on my hands and it took a lot of effort to get it out of the stitching of the leather wrap on my steering wheel, but… as I say, it was a surprise."
"And what of Mary Beckett?" Cassie asked.
Hansell's attention snapped around to her, his brow furrowing with incredulity. "What of her? She was a royal pain in the backside, but I had no reason to kill her. What possible gain would I have?"
"The pain in your backside would be gone," Cassie said.
Hansell laughed. "Everywhere I go in this line of work there are a hundred Mary Becketts. She wasn't any different to all the other protesters who try to block what we do. With her out of the way, it just leaves space for another… and another. Besides," he said with a dismissive flick of the hand. "She'd already succeeded in delaying the project, in having it re-examined by the planning inspectors. What else could she do? I mean really, what would I have to gain from killing her? I know it's hard for you to believe bearing in mind everything I just told you but…" He shook his head. "I didn't kill Mary Beckett. I had nothing to do with it!"
Someone knocked on the door. Tom checked his irritation, not quite able to believe they were being interrupted at this point. He indicated towards the recorder and rose from his seat. Cassie declared DI Janssen was leaving the room along with the time. Tom slipped out into the corridor to find Eric waiting for him, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Sorry, Tom, but you really need to see this."
He thrust a sheet of paper into his hands. Tom lowered his eyes from Eric to the document. It was a list of telephone numbers. Several had repeated entries and were highlighted in different colours. One number stood out.
"Is this what I think it is?" he asked. Eric nodded. "Well, I'll be damned."
"I checked Hansell's contacts list. The number is there but with no name beside it. It's down as Weekend."
Tom winked at Eric who smiled, grateful to not feel the wrath of his boss for interrupting the confession. Tom returned to the interview room, Cassie stating that for the sake of the recording. He walked to the table and put the sheet of paper down, pushing it across in front of him. Hansell's eyes drifted to it, but he said nothing.
"This is an itemised call list for your mobile phone account. This telephone number, highlighted in yellow. Whose is it?" Tom asked. Cassie glanced at him, clearly intrigued. Liam Hansell cast an eye over the document once more, sucking his lower lip beneath the upper. His eyes lifted to Tom.
"I see no relevance—"
"Let me be the judge of that. Whose number is it and why don't you have a name registered alongside it in the contacts book of your phone?"
Hansell frowned. "It's… a friend. I see him occasionally."
"A friend called Weekend?"
Hansell sighed again, shaking his head. "Look, I work away a lot. My husband and I… we have an agreement that we can… explore other interests while we are apart. It's nothing untoward, as long as we are careful then it's okay. But I see no reason to rub his face in it." He shook his head again, splaying his hands wide. "It's
