I didn’t suggest she go and stay with Ryan or Oliver. Quite apart from the ongoing feud over the Sheikh’s horses, they might not take kindly to the knowledge that Declan was accused of killing another member of the family.
‘Maybe I’ll call a girlfriend,’ Arabella said. But then she looked at me, her black mascara now cascading down her cheeks along with the tears. ‘But how can I tell anyone my husband’s been arrested for murder?’
They’ll find out soon enough, I thought.
14
I called Kate from the taxi on my way to Bury St Edmunds, to apologise and to tell her that I wouldn’t be coming back, not for quite a while anyway. I’d left her in the bar at the Bedford Lodge in the hope that I’d be able to make a quick return, but that wouldn’t now happen.
‘Who was that woman on the phone?’ she asked. ‘Was it your wife?’
Ouch!
Kate had obviously been working herself up into a frenzy since I’d left, imagining the worst of me, and who could blame her? It had been the most ill-timed of phone calls.
She had also clearly been topping up with the booze.
‘That was not the reason,’ I said calmly. ‘I don’t have a wife.’
‘Girlfriend then?’
‘No. I don’t have a girlfriend either.’ Other than you, I thought.
‘So who was it?’
The breaking news of Declan’s arrest would travel round Newmarket at the speed of sound, but it wouldn’t be me that leaked it first.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.’
She wasn’t happy. And neither was I.
‘I’ve been dumped by men before,’ she said acidly, ‘but never actually when on my way to bed with them.’
‘I’m not dumping you. Quite the reverse. I’m just sorry that something very urgent came up to do with my work.’
‘Something you don’t trust me enough to tell me about?’
Ouch again!
‘It’s not about trust,’ I said. ‘It’s just confidential. Legal stuff. I wouldn’t even tell my mother.’ Oh God, why am I talking about my mother again? ‘Can I call you in the morning?’
‘I’ll be at work.’ She made it sound like an excuse for me not to.
‘But I can call you there?’
There was a long pause before she answered.
‘I’m hurt,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m drunk, I’m lonely and I’m hurt.’
She was crying, and I felt totally wretched.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t intend to hurt you. But this is something I have to do. I’ll tell you all about it very soon, but I can’t right now.’
She hung up without saying goodbye and I very nearly told the taxi driver to turn round and go back to the hotel, but for what? I couldn’t tell her about Declan, so what else would I say? It would only end in an argument and that might result in even more damage than I’d already caused.
I decided that I was better at solving other people’s crises than my own.
‘I’m telling you, I didn’t kill Zoe.’
‘Then why are you here?’ I asked. ‘The police must believe you did, otherwise they wouldn’t have arrested you. Why do you think they did that?’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Declan replied.
We were sitting opposite each other across a table in a special room reserved for detainees to meet with their legal representatives at the Police Investigation Centre in Bury St Edmunds.
I’d arrived soon after Declan had been brought in and I’d had to wait while he was processed by the custody officers: photos, fingerprints, DNA sample and clothes removal for forensic examination. All standard procedure. Finally they had collected him from a cell and allowed me to see him.
He was wearing a police-issue tracksuit that was at least two sizes too big for him. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, it would have been funny.
The clock on the wall indicated that it was half past ten in the evening. It was an hour and a half since I’d left Kate.
An hour and a half of abject misery.
‘What time did you get up this morning?’ I asked.
‘Ten to five,’ Declan replied. ‘As usual at this time of the year. First lot goes out at six. Why is that important?’
‘Because you’ve been up for almost eighteen hours. I might be able to argue that you are in need of a night’s rest before being questioned.’
‘A night’s rest? In one of those cells? You must be joking. They’re bleak, with only a thin waterproof mattress on a very solid bed. I won’t get much rest there. No, let’s get on with it. Then I can go home.’
‘Declan,’ I said, ‘have you the slightest idea how much trouble you are in? The police wouldn’t have arrested you on suspicion of murder just on the off-chance you might have done it. They must have evidence against you. Now what could that be?’
‘I didn’t kill Zoe,’ he repeated.
‘If you say so,’ I said. ‘But what evidence might they have?’
‘I have no idea. Nothing. I didn’t kill her.’
‘You’re not being very helpful.’
I stared at him across the table and, for the first time, I noticed that his nose was slightly crooked. I wondered if that was due to a fall from a horse, or whether Ryan had broken it with a punch in a Doncaster hotel.
There was a knock on the door, which then opened slightly.
‘We’re ready,’ DCI Eastwood said, putting his head through the gap.
‘Just a moment,’ I said. ‘We’ll be out in a minute.’
The door closed again.
‘Now listen to me, Declan, and listen well,’ I said. ‘We need to use this session to find out what they have on you, rather than to give them any more ammunition. Do you understand?’
‘They can’t have anything on me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do it.’
‘When they ask you something, simply say that your solicitor has advised you that you should not answer any questions at this time. Then it’s my fault you’re not answering, not yours. Remember, you don’t have to prove your innocence, they have to prove your guilt. Don’t say anything else without referring to me first. This is important. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ he said, but I wasn’t sure he meant it.
‘Come on, let’s go.’
We transferred to a proper police interview room and sat side by side facing DCI Eastwood and the other plain-clothed policeman who had travelled with Declan in the squad car.
The chief inspector pushed a button on the control panel on the wall and a loud, long beep was heard.
‘For the record,’ he said. ‘This interview is with Mr Declan Chadwick who has been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Mrs Zoe Robertson. I am Detective Chief Inspector Eastwood and I am accompanied by Detective Sergeant Venables. Mr Chadwick’s solicitor, also present, is Mr Harrison Foster.
‘Mr Chadwick, may I remind you that you are still under caution, that you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Declan said.
‘I also inform you that this interview is being recorded and that the video and audio recordings may be produced in court as evidence. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes,’ Declan said again.
‘Good,’ said the DCI. ‘Can you please confirm your full name and address?’
‘Declan Vincent Parker Chadwick. Rowley House Stables, Hamilton Road, Newmarket.’
‘Thank you. Now, Mr Chadwick,’ said the chief inspector, ‘when did you last see your sister?’
Declan glanced at me. ‘I am advised by my solicitor not to answer any questions at this time.’