On the monitor, he noted it was eight o’clock, and he had to pick up Henry and go with him to identify Colin’s body. Then the detectives were visiting for an “interview”. Such a silly term for it, he thought, switching off his monitor.
After finishing his cigar, he switched everything off and headed back downstairs. As he reached the front door, he spotted Vanu on his way in. “Hey! What’s up?” His second-in-command’s mind was elsewhere. He stared down the road.
“That van’s been there for days.” Vanu gestured a white transit sat by the kerb, no driver or passenger present.
“So what? It’s a parked van.” Richard shrugged. “I’m off to Henry’s.”
“No, wait! Listen to me. It’s been hanging around a lot lately. Everywhere I go I see it.”
He’d never seen Vanu paranoid, even though the poor guy took medication to help reduce his neuroses. “You’re just imagining it. Look, there’s no one inside.” He even pointed at the van. “Relax! Go on, the others will be here soon.”
18
Hayes pulled up outside the wrought-iron gates of Henry Curtis and Colin Fisher’s home. She wound the window down and extended her arm, pushing the intercom button. “Mr Curtis, it’s Detective Inspector Amanda Hayes and Detective Sergeant Rachel Miller.” The buzzer sounded, and the gates whirred open.
Driving through, Hayes kept an eye on the closing gates in her mirror. She pulled up outside the huge country house, getting out and locking the car with a touch of the key fob. Crunching along the gravelly drive towards the front door, she climbed the three stone steps. She whistled.
“Curtis’ parents are wealthy. I–” Miller didn’t get to finish her comment.
The door opened and a woman answered. She introduced herself as Charlotte Edwards, was Fisher. Miller glanced over at Hayes.
When Charlotte opened the door for them, Hayes stepped inside the hallway first, followed closely by Miller. Charlotte showed them through to the huge lounge, where a man in his late forties, maybe early fifties, stood waiting for them.
“Detectives, please join us. I’m Richard Fisher, and you’ve already met my sister, Charlotte. Please, have a seat.”
“Can I get you anything to drink? Tea or coffee? Squash?” Charlotte hovered.
Hayes sat next to her partner and shook her head. “No, thank you, we’re fine. Will Mr Curtis be joining us?” She could tell by their demeanours he wouldn’t be.
“I’m afraid we’ve just returned from identifying my brother’s body. As you can imagine, it was traumatic. Henry’s taken himself off to bed for a while.”
“We’ll try to answer any questions you have, detective.” Charlotte smiled down at her with a nervousness Hayes had come to expect during interviews.
Hayes smiled. “I’m sure you’ll try, Mrs Edwards, but we’ll still need to question Mr Curtis. He and your brother were married and lived together, am I right?”
Charlotte nodded.
“So, he’ll have a unique perspective on your brother’s day-to-day activities. I’m sure you understand that while you know your brother, his husband will know him far better. Could you call him down, please.”
Charlotte looked at her brother for approval. “I’ll bring him to the station tomorrow. How about that? I really don’t want to disturb him while he’s sleeping.”
“Or I will.” Mr Fisher shot her a pleading look.
When she studied Miller, her partner shrugged. “Very well. If you promise to bring him by tomorrow, I guess that’s fine. We probably wouldn’t get much out of him today anyway. So, firstly, I’d like to start by offering our deepest sympathies on your loss. Losing your brother in such a way is traumatic. And thank you for taking the time to speak with us.”
Brother and sister sat side by side, Charlotte nervously playing with her fingers.
Mr Fisher still straight, spoke first. “Before we begin, though, detective, tell me, do you have any idea at all who did this? Do you have any of those, I don’t know what you’d call them–”
“Leads?” Charlotte finished her brother’s sentence.
Mr Fisher nodded.
“We have a couple of theories, yes.” Hayes gave Miller the go-ahead.
“We believe the suspect we’re looking for might have a military background, Mr Fisher. Someone who has been, or still is, in the armed forces. I don’t suppose your brother knew many ex-soldiers, did he? We’ve checked his sheet, so we know he wasn’t in the army himself, but we were wondering if he socialised with anyone fitting that description. Would you know, Mrs Edwards?”
“Or if you’ve heard him talk about having had an altercation with anyone fitting that description? It could be through work, for example?” Hayes waited for a reply.
Both interviewees shook their heads. “No, nothing like that. I mean, Lottie would know more about Colin’s movements than me–”
“Oh? Why is that?” Hayes checked his response facially, looking for tells.
“It’s no secret that I disowned him for years, detective. His drug use, stealing, the violence. He beat up our dad and stole his wallet. As you can imagine, it caused a terrible rift in our family. My poor sister had to mediate between us; she never gave up on him.”
“Yeah, we’ve read his sheet.” Hayes watched Richard closely.
“He could’ve done anything he wanted, my little brother. He could’ve gone on and done important things, you know? He was intelligent, and he decided to throw it all away to spite me. And now look where he is.”
Hayes exchanged glances with Miller. “This must be very painful for you, dredging all this up, but we have to ask some sensitive questions, Mr Fisher. Some will be hard to hear.”
Mrs Edwards’ face crumpled. “You want to know where we were on Monday night, don’t you? You’re trying to eliminate us from your enquiry by asking us for an alibi.”
“We ask it of everyone we interview.” It felt mean asking them such questions, but the animosity with which Fisher spoke about his younger brother called for it.
