Gerry held up some stapled sheets. ‘I have details on all this here, by the way, and DI Cabbot and I will be handing these out with the TIEs and actions when we’ve finished here. You will need to talk to more of the uninjured wedding guests as they become willing and able, and track down family and friends of the deceased. I don’t need to tell you to tread softly here. These people have just lost loved ones. Two bridesmaids went uninjured, Lucy Fisher and Danielle Meynell, along with the best man Wayne Powell. They’re still in shock but will also need to be interviewed as soon as the doctors declare them fit. I wish I could be more specific in telling you what to look for, but the previous questioner was right. There is no certain line of inquiry yet. Right now we’re still working more or less in the dark. Some of you have already been checking on firearms certificates and local shooting clubs. There’s plenty more of those to get through. Some of you have been assigned to track down all local black- or dark-coloured RAV4s and similar vehicles. We’re still trolling the records for anyone with a history of violence, especially involving firearms, of making threats, or anything of that kind. Keep your eyes and ears open. We have messages out in all the media for members of the public to get in touch if they know or suspect anything, so be warned. There’ll be plenty of attention-seekers and just plain weirdoes calling in. Psychics and people who want to confess, too. Of course, the trouble is that once in a while one of these actually has something of value to tell us. There’s also a massive manhunt going on, though it’s being severely hampered by the weather. According to the most recent forecasts, we can’t expect much change there. In fact, the rain is only expected to get worse, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you who grew up in Yorkshire. CSM Nowak will be bringing you up to date on all that soon, along with any forensic evidence discovered so far.
‘I can tell you one final thing, though. I’ve checked most of the local media reports on the wedding coverage, and the only people mentioned in the articles, or shown in photographs, were the bride and groom and their parents. That means if our killer is local, and if he found out about the wedding from the local media, then he would probably have no idea who else was going to be there. Therefore, it’s not a bad idea to concentrate on Laura and Benjamin and their parents first. As only Laura Tindall and Charles and Benjamin Kemp of this group were killed, that might cut down the possibilities even more. But don’t forget, this is just a rough guide. The main thing not to forget is that we’ve still got a killer out there, and he might strike again at any time.’ She glanced at Banks, who tapped his watch and gestured to her. Time to wrap up and get back to the search for the father of Katie Shea’s baby. ‘Thank you.’
Gerry sank gratefully into her front row chair, exhaling a deep sigh of relief. Stefan Nowak got up to speak next. Banks leaned over to Gerry and whispered, ‘Well done, DC Masterson. I told you it was a piece of cake.’
Gerry could only stare at Banks. She was still trembling inside. When she found her voice, she felt as if it was trembling, too. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said. ‘A piece of cake.’
‘We’re very sorry for your loss, Boyd,’ said Banks as he sat down beside Annie at the low round table in his office that Monday evening. Farrow wasn’t a suspect yet, so they had no reason to have their chat in an official interview room. As it turned out, Farrow wasn’t so much a boy as a fortyish man in a light grey Hugo Boss suit carrying a leather designer briefcase. A good fifteen years or so older than Katie Shea, he was handsome in a chiselled kind of way, with short dark hair, a strong square jaw, a slightly overlarge nose and a fleshy mouth. Nobody Gerry had talked to had known that Katie was pregnant, but Gerry had identified and tracked down Boyd Farrow through several emails discovered on her mobile.
‘I can hardly believe it,’ said Farrow. ‘Katie. Dead.’
‘Didn’t you know about the wedding this weekend?’
‘I knew she was going to a wedding, but to be honest I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the details.’
‘You weren’t invited?’
‘I had a business meeting.’
‘On Saturday?’
‘I’m self-employed, Mr Banks. I take my meetings when I can get them.’
‘What business are you in, if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘Not at all. I’m in website design and social media.’
‘How did you meet Katie?’
‘She’s with a small publishing firm in Leeds, and they wanted to up their profile. The full package. Website, Facebook page, Instagram and Twitter accounts. We met, we hit it off...’ He put his head in his hands. ‘My God. Katie. What am I going to do?’
‘How long had you been together?’
‘Not long. Just six months.’
‘Did you live together?’
‘No. We hadn’t got to that stage yet.’
Banks glanced at Annie, who raised her eyebrows. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. Not yet.
‘So Katie had her own flat and you have yours?’
‘Katie rented a flat, yes. I own a house. Well, a mortgage, I should say.’
‘And you lived separate lives?’
‘We spent as much time together as we could, but... well, she had her work. I’m afraid I don’t know many of her friends. We preferred spending time together rather than socialising.’
‘Of course.’ Banks paused. ‘My DC tells me that you seemed rather reluctant when she offered to drive down and talk to you in Leeds.’
‘I don’t mind the drive. It can be relaxing after a day at the office.’
Banks gave Annie the most discreet of signals.
‘Did you know that Katie was almost eight weeks pregnant?’ she asked.
Farrow spluttered and seemed set to deny everything, then he folded in on himself. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘She told me.’
‘When?’
‘Ten days ago.’
‘A joyous occasion?’ Banks asked.
‘Not exactly.’
‘You mean you didn’t want children together?’
‘This has absolutely nothing—’
‘Please answer the questions, Mr Farrow,’ Annie said. ‘It’ll be over sooner that way.’
‘But why aren’t you out there catching Katie’s killer?’
‘Believe me,’ Banks answered, ‘there are more than enough people out there after Katie’s killer. They’ve been out there in the wind and rain since Saturday afternoon. Besides, according to most of the TV cop programmes I’ve watched, it’s almost always someone with something to hide who asks that question. What is it you have to hide, Mr Farrow?’
‘I’m sorry, but I just don’t—’
‘The baby, Mr Farrow,’ Banks went on. ‘You didn’t want it? Neither of you?’
‘Katie... she... perhaps more than me. But she saw it couldn’t be. Not yet. We weren’t ready. She understood that.’
‘It doesn’t sound as if you were ready for anything. I should imagine you could have made a few adjustments to your lifestyles if you’d tried. You certainly can’t claim you were too young for such a responsibility.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘What am I missing?’
Farrow stared down at the table. ‘It just wasn’t possible, that’s all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, come on, man, isn’t it fucking obvious? Because I’m married, that’s why. That’s what you’ve been wanting me to say, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve been wanting you to tell me the truth, Mr Farrow,’ said Banks. ‘So you were having an affair with Katie Shea?’
‘It wasn’t a... it wasn’t sordid like that. We were in love. We were going to get married as soon as I divorced my wife.’