Mark nodded slowly. ‘I get that. But, I mean, you were all dressed up. Made up. Candles, red wine. The expensive ones. Then after all that... I was just surprised, I suppose. I thought you wanted to.’
‘I did.’
‘And I’m not trying to belittle what you’re going through, but for me, after all that, to have you suddenly change your mind...’
‘I didn’t change my mind.’
‘You did.’
‘No, I just realised I couldn’t jump straight in with two feet and expect to immediately feel twenty-one years old again. It’ll take time. Small steps.’
Mark nodded. ‘Okay. Well, I’m willing to try if you are.’
‘Of course I am. I have been.’
‘You’ve been kind of cold. Distant.’
Caroline swallowed. ‘I know. I’ve been trying up here, though,’ she said, tapping her head. ‘It might not seem like it from the outside, but there’s a lot of work to do in there before it’ll show much.’
Mark took her hand. ‘I know. And I’m always here to support you through it, alright? I just need you to tell me what you want. I can’t keep guessing and getting it wrong. I need you to lead this and help me out too.’
‘Okay,’ Caroline replied, smiling, but unsure as to how this was going to play out. Regardless, she had hope. It had to be worth all the effort of trying. Otherwise, they had nothing. ‘It’s a deal,’ she said.
39
There were always aspects of the job which some officers enjoyed and others didn’t. For Caroline, one of the most enjoyable aspects was interviewing suspects. There was a logic to it, a tried and tested process which got results and gave her a huge amount of satisfaction.
It was, of course, frustrating at times not to be able to walk into the first interview, dump all the evidence on the table and wrap things up there and then, but the key was to let the suspect do that work for them.
The first interview was about establishing the facts, letting the suspect weave their own narrative, even if it was clearly contrary to what the officers already knew. In effect, they were giving them enough rope to hang themselves. At that point, they’d regroup and reassess, compile everything then go back in for the second interview. That was when those bombshells would be dropped. The suspect wouldn’t be in a position to make up excuses and ways of wriggling out of it, because they’d already committed to a position the police could now prove was false. This was the position Caroline felt they were now in, and she was looking forward to it immensely.
‘Okay, Gavin,’ she said once the second interview had begun the next morning. ‘In your last interview you told us a couple of things we found quite interesting, to say the least. You stated that you’d stayed at home on the night Martin Forbes died. Do you want to make any amendments to that statement?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘Gavin, your car has been seized and is being searched, as has the clothing you were wearing that night. Are we going to find anything there that’ll incriminate you?’
Gavin didn’t seem so certain in answering this question. ‘I don’t imagine so, no.’
‘You don’t imagine so? You don’t sound sure.’
‘Well I don’t know what you’re looking for, do I?’
‘You must know if there’s anything incriminating. If you didn’t kill Martin Forbes and weren’t involved in his murder, there won’t be, will there?’
Gavin crossed his arms. ‘Then there won’t be.’
‘We’re also looking through your mobile phone and laptop. Do you think we’ll find anything there?’
‘I didn’t know you’d taken my laptop,’ Gavin said, his eyes narrowed.
‘Oh yes. You’re under arrest, Gavin. That allows us the power to enter your property, search for evidence and remove anything we think might be of interest or value to our investigation.’ Caroline watched him, trying to gauge his reaction. ‘You’ve gone a bit quiet, Gavin. Perhaps I should ask you another question. Have you been in touch with Martin Forbes recently? In the days leading up to his death, perhaps? I know we’ve already asked you this, but I think it bears repeating at this point.’
Gavin’s solicitor leaned in slightly towards him. ‘You don’t have to answer any questions you’re not comfortable with.’
‘No comment,’ Gavin said.
‘Okay. Can you have a look at these for me, please?’ Caroline replied, passing two sheets of paper across the desk. ‘Do you recognise them?’
‘No comment.’
‘They’re emails. Between you and Martin Forbes. Can you tell me the date on them please?’
‘No comment.’
‘It was very shortly before Martin died, wasn’t it?’
‘No comment.’
‘In these emails, Gavin, you ask Martin to meet you. He suggests Monday evening — the night he died — at the exact location where his body was found the next morning. That’s the arrangement that was made. Do you have any comment on that?’
Gavin looked at his solicitor.
‘You don’t have to answer that.’
‘I do,’ Gavin said. ‘I really do. Because I know where this is going, and I know how it looks. But it’s not the case. Yes. Okay. I arranged to meet Martin that night. I went there. You’ll probably find mud on the tyres that matches Seaton, if that’s what you’re looking for. But Martin didn’t turn up. You have to believe me. He wasn’t there. That’s why I went home.’
‘Why did you want to meet him?’
Gavin sighed. ‘Because Amie told me about the argument they’d had. He’s been trying it on with her for months. She keeps turning him down. Obviously. But she got the feeling he’d been using that to justify being an absolute arse to her ever since. He kept slagging off her work, talking down to her in front of people, calling her in for endless meetings to stop her finishing projects and then complaining that projects hadn’t been finished. He basically tried to make her working life hell because she wouldn’t put out for him. So yeah, I wanted to have
