‘But someone may have put Martin Edgeworth up to it,’ Annie said. ‘Used him.’
‘I don’t see how that could have happened,’ said Maureen. ‘Surely people are not that manipulable?’
‘You’d be surprised. With that type of killer, it could have been a minor slight, a build-up of pressure, even over years. Some insult or rejection he perceived or misread. Some past transgression, real or imagined.’
Maureen lowered her head and sniffled.
‘Do you remember Wendy Vincent?’ Gerry asked.
Maureen looked up sharply. ‘Wendy?’ she repeated. ‘Yes, of course I do. How could I forget? But what’s that got to do with anything? That all happened fifty years ago.’
‘You were her best friend, weren’t you?’
‘I like to think so.’
‘It must have been terrible for you. And so young.’
‘Yes. I was fifteen.’
‘Her killer was only brought to justice recently, a cold case solved by modern methods. DNA.’
‘I read about it.’
‘Did you know him? Frank Dowson?’
‘I knew who he was. He was Billy Dowson’s weird older brother.’
‘Weird?’
‘There was something wrong with him. He wasn’t all there. We stayed away from him. But I still don’t see what this has to do with anything.’
‘We’re just looking for connections,’ Gerry said. ‘However vague or distant.’
‘Might Laura have unwittingly drawn attention from the wrong sort of person?’ Annie cut in. ‘Perhaps she declined someone’s advances, something like that? Can you think of anyone?’
‘We’ve been through all that,’ said Robert. ‘Racked our brains. I think someone already told your colleagues about that cyber-stalker a few years back. But he’s in New Zealand.’
‘We’ve checked him out thoroughly,’ said Gerry. ‘It wasn’t him, or anything to do with him.’
‘Something could have happened in London, I suppose, either recently or during Laura’s modelling career, but if there was, it wasn’t something she told us. And she usually told us most things.’
Annie doubted that very much. ‘She may not have even known about it,’ she said. ‘The person might never even have approached her. Perhaps a perceived slight at a party, or something like that, was enough. A colleague. A waiter.’
‘If she didn’t even know about it herself,’ said Robert Tindall, ‘then she could hardly tell anyone else about it, could she? I’m sorry, but we can’t help you any further. You can see my wife is upset. Perhaps if you talked to some of Laura’s friends and colleagues down in London...?’
‘We’ve already done that, Mr Tindall, but rest assured we’ll stick at it.’ Annie gave Gerry the nod and they stood to leave. ‘I’m sorry for probing at painful memories, Mrs Tindall, but you’ve been most helpful. I shouldn’t think we’ll have to bother you any more.’
Maureen Tindall remained with her face buried in her handkerchief. Just as Robert Tindall was leading them to the door, his wife checked the time again and reminded him of the forthcoming doctor’s appointment.
‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said. ‘We’ve got ages yet.’
The market square outside was dark and deserted. As Banks glanced out after having recounted his earlier discussion with Dr Glendenning, he could see the reflections of the others gathered in AC Gervaise’s office: Jenny Fuller, DCs Doug Wilson and Gerry Masterson and DI Annie Cabbot. The only significant person missing was Winsome, who had spent Christmas in Montego Bay with her parents, and would be there for another two weeks. Terry Gilchrist had gone to visit her over there, and Banks hoped the sun, sand and sea and long cool drinks with umbrellas were helping them get over the terrible ordeal they had endured at their friends’ wedding.
After a brief pause, Gervaise said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, Alan, I think we’ve got enough already to get started investigating possibilities beyond Edgeworth. But you’ll have to proceed carefully. Don’t tread on any toes or upset any of the bereaved. Most of all, we don’t want the newspapers getting hold of our speculations until you get somewhere with the investigation. If there’s anywhere to get. You know as well as I do how much they’d love the opportunity to tell the world how we got it wrong, or accuse us of harassing grief-stricken survivors.’ She drank some coffee. ‘On the other hand, they’re all still hungry for a motive, for some sort of explanation, and we haven’t been able to show them yet that Edgeworth was the monster they’d like to paint him as. Anyway, let’s carry on. There must be more. Dr Fuller?’
Jenny Fuller cast her eyes over the group. ‘I’ve been over and over my notes, back to the textbooks, reread all your statements and reports, read up on just about every spree killing and mass murder I can find, and I still can’t make him fit. Naturally, there are so many variables. You can always get away by saying he was an exception to the rule, or that we’ve missed some vital piece of information, but in the light of what Alan’s just told us, I don’t think we have. I think it’s a strong case for at least considering other possibilities. Edgeworth doesn’t have a dysfunctional background, for a start. And if what you’re telling me about his cleaning up after things is true, that doesn’t fit the profile, either. Mass murderers don’t usually bother to get rid of all the forensic evidence they possibly can. Admittedly, they rarely have the time, but it’s certainly not part of the profile. Nor do potential suicides. Frankly, I’m stumped. Besides, you need more than a dysfunctional background to make a mass murderer. Plenty of people come from backgrounds of violence and abuse, for example, and never stray off the straight and narrow. You also need a series of triggers, or maybe something more like the series of numbers in a combination lock. Click. Click. Click. Until the tumblers align and it’s all systems go. I’ve got no idea what that combination might be in Edgeworth’s case. I’m not saying he didn’t do it, just that he didn’t do it as a textbook mass murderer, if you understand what I mean. With all the care he took to misdirect us, he could have had a more complicated reason than the need to kill a lot of people. But then why did he kill himself after taking so much care to cover his tracks? And why was it so easy to trace him through the firearms certificate? That kind of basic mistake doesn’t fit with the other stuff, the extra set of clothing and so on.’
‘So,’ said Banks, ‘the question is, if we’re giving him the benefit of the doubt when it comes to psychology, and admitting the inconsistencies of forensic evidence, are we going to take the leap of faith and assume that the man who was up on the hill shooting at the wedding group outside St Mary’s was not the same man we found slumped against the wall in Martin Edgeworth’s cellar?’
‘I can’t see any other conclusion,’ said AC Gervaise. ‘If Dr Fuller and Dr Glendenning are right.’
The others nodded.
‘If we’re going to work on the assumption that someone else shot the wedding party and also killed Martin Edgeworth,’ Gervaise went on, ‘then it should open up new lines of inquiry. Now we have a second crime and all the fresh thinking and evidence that brings to the investigation. Where do you suggest we direct our attention next, Alan?’
‘I’d like someone to have a word with his old partner, Jonathan Martell,’ Banks said. ‘After all, it’s only a few years since they wound down the practice, and according to Ollie Metcalfe at the White Rose, Martell and Edgeworth often met up for a jar or two. They were still pals. Martell might know something, say if Edgeworth was in some kind of trouble or someone was trying to blackmail him, for example.’
‘You think this Martell could be a suspect, sir?’ DC Wilson asked.