‘You see,’ Hennessey continued. ‘You see, not only was the house sanitized after the murder, it was kept in a fastidiously clean manner. Cleaned daily, I should think, especially the bathroom. And your client freely admits that latterly he was rendezvousing with Mrs Williams at a newly built house, not at the bungalow, so his fingerprints could not be in the bungalow by lawful means.’
‘Accepted,’ Nathan Samual said. He was a small, thin-faced man, dwarfed, it seemed to Hennessey, by the powerfully built Tim Sheringham whose T-shirt stretched over a muscular chest and revealed muscular arms.
‘The print in the bathroom, that belonged to Mr Sheringham. It puts you in the house after the murder of the woman with whom you had just broken off your relationship.’
‘No comment.’
‘Why did you ransack the house?’
‘No comment.’
‘What were you searching for?’
‘No comment.’
‘You didn’t take anything. Stopped burglarizing homes, have you?’
‘No comment.’
‘So what were you looking for?’
‘No comment.’
Hennessey opened the file which lay on the table in front of him and took out a photograph and placed it on the table in front of Sheringham. Sheringham’s jaw dropped, his eyes widened.
‘There are quite a few like that. Clearly taken over quite a long time period, at the bungalow, at the house…some out of doors. Only you and Amanda Williams…never a third person, so the photographs were taken with a time-delayed shutter.’
‘Yes…they were. She insisted. I knew it was a bad idea. She sent them away to be developed, there’s a company in London that will print anything. Pretty well, they draw the line at children.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it.’
‘Is this what you were looking for? This and the others? We found them in the garden shed, by the way.’
Sheringham gasped.
‘They were not in the house at all. So what was it? Blackmail?’
Sheringham nodded.
‘Could you speak for the benefit of the tape?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much did she want in return for the photographs?’
‘Nothing. She didn’t need money.’
‘What then?’
‘She wanted me to agree to continue our affair, just carrying on as we had been doing, every Wednesday. You can understand it. How could a woman like that replace a man like me? She was going to send them to my wife. Look, I’m thirsty…how about…’
Hennessey reached for the off button and said, ‘The time is eleven-oh-five a.m. The interview is being suspended for refreshments to be taken.’ He switched off the tape recorder.
Sheringham and Nathan Samual remained in the interview room, sipping coffee out of white plastic beakers. Hennessey and Yellich stood in the corridor.
‘What do you think, boss?’ Yellich held his beaker of coffee in both hands.
‘He’s definitely in the frame for it, very definitely. He had something to fear from Mrs Williams. He’s arrogant enough to murder, he’s strong enough to dig the grave…he battered her over the head and he felled Mr Williams because he was there. He’s got more of a motivation than Richardson because with Richardson things couldn’t get worse. With Sheringham things could get an awful lot worse…Richardson isn’t out of the frame but if you ask me, Sheringham’s a stronger candidate.
‘Fear, you see, Yellich, fear feeds the imagination, that leads to desperation and desperate men do desperate things. I can see him doing it. He’s full of himself, has a lot to lose, pops ‘em both off as the only safe thing to do. Sanitizes the house, then collects the bodies a day or two later, drives them out to a field and buries them. Then he returns looking for the photographs of himself and her in happier times and, during the search, leaves a careless but very convenient fingerprint in the bathroom.’
Then Yellich said quietly, ‘Do you think they might be in it together, boss?’
Hennessey’s eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me more, Yellich.’
‘Well, I once came across an Arabic proverb: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’
‘Go on.’ Hennessey sipped his coffee.
‘They’re both members of the business community in York. If they’re known to each other, they both have motivation to murder the Williamses…they’re both strong enough to dig the grave, but sharing the job would make it a cakewalk. Together, they’d make light of it. It’s also a big crime scene to sanitize, two guys would be better employed at it than one. Just thinking aloud, boss.’
Hennessey beamed at him. ‘Yellich, on occasions you please me greatly.’
‘I do, boss?’
‘Yes, Yellich. You do. Two heads are always better than one. Maybe for Richardson and Sheringham, as well as for you and me. I’ll continue here.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘You go and have a chat with Mrs Sheringham at the gym. Tease out what you can, but be discreet.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘York is a small city; you’re right, they may very well be known to each other, a link between them will be interesting. Very interesting indeed.’
Hennessey dropped his plastic mug into the waste bin beside the hot beverage vending machine and returned to the interview room. He switched the recording machine on as he sat down, the spools turned, the red light glowed. The interview recommences at eleven-twenty a.m. in the absence of Detective Sergeant Yellich.
‘I am Chief Inspector Hennessey. I am now going to ask the other people in the room to identify themselves.’
‘Nathan Samual.’
‘You know who I am,’ Sheringham growled.
‘Just state your name for the tape, please.’
‘Tim Sheringham. Happy now, old man?’
‘Thank you. So, Mr Sheringham, you don’t deny that Mrs Williams was a source of trouble for you?’
‘I don’t deny it.’
‘So you have benefited from her death?’
‘I’ve benefited from those photographs not being sent to my wife.’
‘But she did threaten to speak to your wife.’
‘No comment.’
‘It’s not unreasonable of me to assume that she did make such a threat.’
‘Assume what you like.’
‘So it’s not therefore unreasonable of me to assume that you have benefited from her death. She can’t talk to your wife from beyond the grave.’
‘She can’t.’
‘So a weight is off your mind?’
‘Yes…yes…if you like. But not fully, you know it’s possible that Vanessa will find out…your past has a way of catching up with you.’
‘As you well know.’ Hennessey took a sheet of paper from the file. ‘Your previous convictions.’
‘A lot of them are spent.’
‘A lot are…but there’s quite a pattern of violence, isn’t there? And burglary. Aggravated burglary. And you are, are you not, just the sort of person who’d batter the life out of someone and then ransack their house?’
‘I object to that question.’ Nathan Samual spoke softly, yet with no small measure of authority.
‘I’ve calmed down,’ Sheringham said coldly. The gym’s seen to that. And marriage. My last spell inside I spent as much time as I could pushing weights, working on my body culture. A guy in there said I could earn big money if I could open a gym. I’m not making as much as he reckoned I would, but enough. I’m making more straight pennies than I ever made bent pennies.’
‘I’m gratified to hear it…but the potential’s there. Now, tell me about this offence, which is not spent. The conviction a few years ago for the misuse of a controlled substance.’
‘A few ounces of cannabis, for my own consumption, I hasten to add. I wasn’t selling it.’
‘Still known to Mr McCarty though.’
‘Of the Drug Squad?’
‘The one and the same.’
‘I’ve had the pleasure once or twice.’
‘But nothing current?’
‘Of course.’
‘Of course.’ Hennessey smiled. ‘But let’s return to your potential.’
‘Potential?’
‘For violence…that’s been your history. You have not hesitated to attack someone if they annoyed you.’