She stood up and Ramsay saw a thin woman with high cheekbones and intense grey eyes. She said nothing and he was surprised. He would have expected Evan’s wife to be more conventional, more restful.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said. ‘I was hoping to talk to your son.’
‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘What do you think he’s done?’
‘Nothing,’ Evan intervened reassuringly. ‘What would he have done? It’s all a matter of routine. That’s right, isn’t it?’
Ramsay said nothing.
‘You won’t mind if I get on,’ Evan said. He was in the middle of preparing a meal. On the table was a chopping board laid out with green chillies, peppers, an aubergine, root ginger. There were jars of spices and Madhur Jaffrey’s Indian Cookery was propped open against the garam masala. ‘I always do a curry on Friday night if I’m not working, don’t I, love?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. Ramsay recognized the irony in her voice but Evan seemed not to notice. ‘ It’s always curry on Friday.’
‘Why don’t you stop and have a meal with us,’ he said. ‘It can’t be much fun having to fend for yourself. John’ll be back soon. You can talk to him then.’
‘No, thank you,’ Ramsay said. ‘ It’s very kind, but I don’t think so.’
‘Can we help you, then?’ Evan said.
‘Yes,’ Ramsay said. ‘ Perhaps you can. Does John have any friends who live on the Starling Farm estate?’
‘I expect so,’ Evan said. ‘ Kids from there go to the sixth form college. We don’t encourage it but you can’t choose their friends for them.’
‘Was he on the Starling Farm yesterday afternoon?’
‘He might have been. After school. He wouldn’t tell us. He’d know we’d disapprove.’
‘He used to hang around with Connor,’ Jackie said. ‘He works at the Community Centre. John might have gone there to see him.’
‘Connor?’ Ramsay asked.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know his second name. They were at first school together.’
‘No,’ Ramsay said. ‘ I don’t think John went to the Community Centre. He was seen coming out of the Pastons’ house.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ Evan said. ‘What would he have been doing there? Someone’s trying to wind you up. To get back at me.’
Ramsay did not answer. Something had been troubling him since he had come to the house at Barton Hill, an inconsistency which had been niggling at his subconscious throughout the exchange with Evan Powell.
‘Is that your car on the drive, Mrs Powell?’ he asked abruptly.
‘The Renault? Yes. Evan keeps his car in the garage. Why?’
‘Did you loan your car to your son on the evening before last?’
‘No. He might have taken it, though. He knows he can use it whenever he likes. That’s not a crime.’ But she was uneasy.
‘You didn’t use it then?’
‘I might have done,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember. Was that the night I was babysitting?’
She turned to her husband but he shook his head. ‘I don’t know, I was at work on Wednesday.’ Even as he spoke he watched Ramsay, trying to judge where the questions were leading.
The inspector ignored Evan’s stare and continued with his questions to Jackie.
‘You don’t own a red Volkswagen Polo?’
‘Of course not!’ She was losing patience. ‘What would I want with two cars?’
‘I think,’ Evan said, ‘you’d better explain what this is about.’
‘On Wednesday night John was driving a red Volkswagen Polo,’ Ramsay said. ‘ He claimed it was yours, Mrs Powell.’
‘What business is it of yours what John was driving on Wednesday?’ Evan said. Concern had made him angry. ‘And how do you know he was on the Starling Farm yesterday? Are you following him? What gave you the right to do that?’
His hands were shaking and he could hardly control his temper. ‘I didn’t think you used that sort of tactic, Stephen. I didn’t think that was your style of policing. Harassing young kids.’
‘There’s no question of harassment,’ Ramsay said. He was hating this confrontation. He was tempted to apologize and leave, to take the superintendent’s advice and give himself a break. ‘The information came up on the course of routine enquiries.’ He paused. As in the conversation with Mrs Barrass he knew it would be impossible to convince Evan that he wanted to help. He would have to let the facts speak for themselves.
‘We suspect the Pastons of trading in stolen goods,’ he said. ‘ John was one of a number of young people seen going to the house during a surveillance operation. There must be some suspicion that the car he was driving on Wednesday was stolen.’
‘No!’ Evan shouted. ‘ You must be mad? Why would he do something like that?’
Ramsay ignored the outburst and continued calmly: ‘If your son is on the fringe of illegal activity on the Starling Farm estate it wouldn’t be so terrible. He’d be prosecuted, of course. You’d not want any special treatment for him. But we’re most concerned with the murder. He’s a first offender. He’d get probation, community service, specially if he gave himself up. It wouldn’t need to interrupt his education. But don’t you see? If he doesn’t explain his part in it now, there’s a danger that he could get mixed in the murder investigation. None of us want that.’
‘No,’ Evan bellowed again. ‘I’ll not accept it.’ He sat at the table with his head in his hands then began again, more reasonably: ‘Have you any evidence that the Polo was stolen?’
Ramsay shook his head. ‘The significance didn’t occur to me until I saw your wife’s car on the drive.’
‘Then he could have borrowed it from a friend, anything. The least you could do is check that a similar vehicle had been reported missing before you come here making accusations. Without that you’ve nothing to go on.’
‘Of course I’ll check,’ Ramsay said. He stood up. ‘ But you will talk to John,’ he said. ‘If he’s involved in any way he should tell us. You can call me at home over the weekend if you don’t want to take him in to the station.’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ Evan said. ‘ But don’t expect to hear from me. You’ve made some mistakes in your career, Ramsay, but none as big as this.’
And with the hint of that threat between them Ramsay left.
Outside it was still raining. Ramsay ran from the house to the car, but put his foot in the gutter and still managed to get wet. In the doorway Evan stood and watched until he drove off. Ramsay was in his own car and switched on the radio and tuned to The Archers, hoping that the rural fantasy would distract him, at least for a while, from his sense of failure. But he could not concentrate and in the end he drove in silence back to the police station.
He thought he had achieved none of the objectives the superintendent had set him. He had alienated Evan Powell without coming to any conclusion about John’s role in the car thefts. He still did not know the extent of Evan’s knowledge-was he protecting his son? It had been foolish and ill thought-out to ask about Mrs Powell’s car. If course he should have found out first if a Polo had been stolen. If he had gained anything positive from the interview it was a firm belief that Evan was innocent of any part in the murders. His hostility had been on his son’s behalf. He had no personal fear, no idea even that his integrity was being questioned.
The police station was quiet. There was a smell of damp which reminded Ramsay as he entered of an empty school changing-room. The walls ran with condensation and everywhere was too hot. The people who remained in the Incident Room were tense and expectant. Friday night was busy in the town-all the recent disturbances had taken place at the weekend. Everyone who could be spared was out on the street. For a moment Ramsay wished that he was one of them, sharing the camaraderie of the relief, with no responsibility except to do as he was told.