She was slightly mellow. And the lunch had cheered her considerably, as Kate had hoped.
She bought four bottles of the cheapest available claret, using almost all of the small amount of cash she had left, divided them between two plastic carrier bags, and began the journey back to Kate’s house.
Suddenly Kurt stepped out in front of her.
At first she thought she must be mistaken. It couldn’t be him, could it? He wouldn’t dare, would he? She’d half expected his brother, or at least his goons, at first anyway. But not him. Not like this. Standing there, his usual cool, confident, handsome self.
She found the very sight of him chilling. All the same, she did not cry out. But she involuntarily dropped the two carrier bags she was carrying, containing the wine. The bottles exploded as they hit the pavement. There was red wine, glass and plastic everywhere.
She tried to run away. This was déjà vu. Kurt merely blocked her way. He didn’t even try to grab her. He just stood in front of her, his bulk making it impossible for her to escape.
‘Relax, I’m not going to touch you,’ he said. ‘I just want to talk.’
Relax? Was he mad? Lilian didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
‘Which is what you told me the last time,’ she said, trying desperately to at least sound calm.
‘I know. I’m sorry about that.’
‘You’ve lied to the police. You’ve had me accused of attempted murder. You know I was just trying to defend myself. You know that.’
Kurt told her he hadn’t wanted her to be charged, hadn’t wanted to make the statement he had to the police.
‘I was forced into a corner, because I was still wanted for questioning for assaulting you,’ he said. ‘But look at the risks I took to see you again, to make it right with you. I even flew back into the country on a false passport. When the police came to interview me in Bristol I’d only just regained consciousness. My brain wasn’t working properly. I was afraid I might go to jail. I had to come up with a story—’
‘Well, you did that all right,’ Lilian interrupted. ‘And, thanks to your story, I’m now facing prison.’
‘I didn’t intend for that to happen,’ he said. ‘I want you with me. For the rest of my life. Like before. In spite of what you did to me.’
‘What I did to you?’ Lilian could no longer keep up any pretence of calmness. She screamed the words out. A young couple walking by glanced towards her, then looked away and hurried by. This was London, after all.
‘I was afraid you were going to kill me,’ Lilian continued. ‘I’ve been afraid you were going to kill me for a long time now.’
‘Can’t we start afresh?’
‘Are you really crazy?’
‘I’ll find a way of getting the charges dropped. You know I could do that. I’ll get the best criminal lawyers in the land working on it. I’ll change my story. I’ll come up with something that will allow us both to be free. We can start a new life together. Go to South Africa maybe. Cape Town if you like. Buy a beautiful new house if you don’t want to move into the family place. Have a fresh start in the sun by the sea. I just want to take care of you. Come away with me, Lilian. Please. Be my wife again.’
Kurt spoke in a torrent of words. He sounded, and looked, so loving and sincere. But only if you didn’t know him.
Somehow Lilian found the strength to side-step him. This time he made no attempt to impede her. She ran. As best she could with her still weak left leg.
‘Never! Never!’ she shouted back over her shoulder. ‘I’d rather be dead!’
‘Maybe,’ he called after her.
The ice she remembered so well was back in his voice. There was no longer a hint of loving sincerity about him.
‘But would you rather rot in prison?’ he shouted. ‘That’s the choice, Lilian. Be my wife again, or go to prison. And I will make sure you never get out.’
Twenty-Seven
Vogel contacted the NDDH first thing in the morning to check on Jason Patel’s condition, and when he could be interviewed again.
He was told by the senior nursing officer in charge of IC that Patel was ‘comfortable’, and that he was due to be examined again by the doctors later that morning.
‘In view of last night’s setback, Mr Vogel, we would much prefer you to wait until after that before visiting Mr Patel again,’ said the nursing officer.
Vogel agreed. He didn’t feel he had any choice. In any case there was little point in reinterviewing Patel until he was in a considerably stronger state than he had been the first time.
Saslow picked up Vogel at his Airbnb at seven thirty a.m. The incident room at Bideford police station was to be their first stop. It was an unseasonably wet and windy Monday. Vogel always thought bad weather was appropriate for a Monday. Although, as a police officer the days of the week had never had much influence on his working hours. Particularly during a murder investigation.
‘How did you sleep, boss?’ Saslow asked, by way of greeting.
‘Not good,’ replied Vogel. ‘I’ve been going over this case in my head all night. Or what there is of it...’
‘Me too, boss. Bit of a puzzle, isn’t it.’
‘Certainly is, Saslow. What looked at first like a straightforward domestic, an all too familiar family tragedy, is taking us off in all manner of directions.’
The two officers had just arrived at the Bideford incident room, and were exchanging notes with DI Peters, when the team who were still door-stepping the areas around St Anne’s Avenue called in. They had just caught up with a neighbour of the Quinns who had been out on Saturday night, and away visiting her daughter all the previous day.
She had provided information which caused Vogel to decide that a second formal interview with Gregory Quinn should be delayed no longer.
‘Send a pair of uniforms to bring him in straight away,’ Vogel told Peters. ‘Make sure they take Morag Docherty with them too. Somebody has to babysit Gill now. And tell them this time we’re not asking, we’re telling. I don’t want Quinn arrested yet, but if he doesn’t cooperate then that’s what they must do.’
Greg Quinn did cooperate. Albeit with some reluctance. But once again he had not requested legal representation. And he was already sitting in the interview room DI Peters had set up at Bideford nick when Vogel and Saslow entered an hour or so later.
As soon as they walked in he stood up.
‘I hope you’ve got a very good reason for having me brought here, Mr Vogel,’ he said. ‘My mother needs me. She’s still in shock. I should be with her.’
‘You’re here because I have more questions for you, Greg,’ Vogel began. ‘Important questions that cannot be avoided. Some of them I shall be asking for the second or even the third time. And I want you to think very carefully indeed before you answer. Because I must warn you that lying to a police officer is a criminal offence. You could be charged with perverting the course of justice.’
Greg sat down with a bump. Hs face had acquired a high colour. He didn’t say anything.
‘So, Greg, when did you last see your father?’ asked the DCI.
Greg answered without hesitation.
‘I told you. About a month ago. And then only for a brief time.’
‘Are you sure of that?’
‘Yes. Of course I am.’
‘All right. When did you last visit your family home?’
‘I told you that, too. Three weeks or so ago, when I knew Dad was at work.’