‘Are quite sure you didn’t go there on Saturday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Absolutely sure?’
‘Yes. Of course, I’m sure. What is this?’
‘Greg, we have a witness who saw your van parked at the family home on Saturday afternoon.’
‘What? No. You can’t have. Nobody could have seen...’
Greg Quinn stopped abruptly.
‘Nobody could have seen what, Greg?’
‘Nothing. I mean, they’ve got it wrong. They can’t have seen it.’
‘Do you mean that nobody could have seen your van where it was parked, or rather, that you thought nobody could see it.’
‘No. I didn’t mean that. Not at all. I mean, that it wasn’t there. Whoever told you it was has made a mistake.’
‘Do you think your parents’ immediate neighbours would recognize your van?’
‘Maybe. I mean, I’m not sure. I told you. I hardly ever go there.’
‘But we understand that you have done work for at least one of the neighbours. Mrs Jane Harvey. Is that not so?’
‘Uh yes. I have.’
‘Quite a big job, wasn’t it? Weren’t you one of the team that built a kitchen extension for her?’
‘Well, yes. It was a couple of years ago though.’
‘How long were you working at Mrs Harvey’s house?’
‘I’m not sure. Five or six weeks maybe.’
‘Do you still drive the same van?’
‘Yes. Well, most of the time.’
‘And it’s a van supplied by your employer, I understand, bright orange with the company name and logo on the side in black and purple. It’s very distinctive, isn’t it?’
‘Well yes, I suppose so...’
‘Indeed. So, do you not think that if Mrs Harvey saw that van, she would have recognized it and known that it was yours?’
‘My boss drives a van that’s the same.’
‘Does he? We will have to ask him, then, if he was parked outside your parent’s house on Saturday. But I think it’s unlikely that he was, don’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t know...’
Gregory Quinn paused. He seemed to be thinking hard.
‘Look. I almost always park at the back,’ he said eventually. ‘There’s a parking area and two garages which are completely walled in. It’s a high wall. If I was parked there yesterday, and I’m telling you I wasn’t, nobody would have been able to see my van anyway. Not Mrs Harvey, or any of the neighbours. They almost certainly wouldn’t even see anybody driving into our place either, because my parents’ house is tucked away at the top of the back lane.’
‘Do you like dogs, Greg?’ asked Vogel abruptly.
‘What?’
Greg Quinn looked completely wrong-footed. Which, of course, had been Vogel’s intention.
‘You don’t have a dog, do you?’ Vogel continued, without waiting for Greg Quinn to reply to his first question.
Quinn shook his head, seeming totally bewildered now.
‘Did you perhaps have one when you were growing up?’
Quinn shook his head again.
‘Mrs Harvey has a dog, a small black poodle. Pretty little thing, I believe. Presumably you know that, don’t you?’
‘Y-yes,’ stumbled Quinn. ‘But what’s that got to do with anything, for God’s sake?’
‘Barnaby, his name is. He’s one of those dogs that’s ball crazy. Mrs Harvey often throws balls for him in her garden. She uses one of those plastic ball-throw things dogs love that make the ball go further. Occasionally they go a bit too far. Yesterday afternoon Mrs Harvey accidentally threw one a lot higher and further than she meant to, and it flew over the wall which surrounds your family’s parking area. She’d done it before, though not very often. So she went out of her back door and walked around. There’s a little driveway, isn’t there, with double gates across, which leads to your parking area? They were standing open, which I understand is usual. So she went in to pick up Barnaby’s ball. She has told us there were three vehicles parked there. Your mother’s old MG. Your father’s Lexus, and your van...’
‘She’s made a mistake. I just said. I wasn’t there.’
‘Do you expect us to believe that, Greg?’
‘I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. Anyway, it’s just her word against mine. It doesn’t prove anything, does it?’
Vogel was very afraid that Greg Quinn might be right about that, and was considering which way to best continue the interview when his phone, laid on the table beside him, flashed. It was Perkins. And Perkins knew his senior officer was in the process of interviewing Greg Quinn. Vogel answered the call, partly because under those circumstances Perkins wouldn’t be calling unless it was urgent and almost certainly relevant to the current interview, and partly to give himself time to contemplate his next move.
The call lasted just a couple of minutes, during which Saslow halted the video recording. Vogel barely spoke, and maintained eye contact with Greg Quinn throughout — until the younger man could stand it no longer and looked away.
After ending the call Vogel remained silent for a few seconds more before instructing Saslow to restart the video, and addressing Greg again.
‘CSI have finally found your mother’s phone, Greg,’ he remarked casually.
He thought Quinn flinched, but wasn’t entirely sure. It may just have been an involuntary nervous twitch.
‘There are a number of voice messages on it which appear to be from you, recorded on Saturday, the first just after eleven a.m., and several texts. But then you know that, don’t you?’
Quinn shrugged.
‘It seems you had arranged to meet your mother at the local Morrisons supermarket, is that so?’
‘Uh yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us about this yesterday?’
‘Well, in the end we didn’t meet, so I didn’t think it was important.’
‘Is this something you and your mother do regularly?’
‘Most Saturdays, yes. We do our shopping at the same time, then go to the café.’
‘I see. But on this occasion your mother didn’t turn up, isn’t that right? So did you not think that might be significant on the day your father was murdered?’
‘I, uh, I didn’t really think about that.’
‘I see. Was it not unusual then?’
‘Well, yes. It was quite unusual. Although...’
Again Greg Quinn didn’t finish the sentence he had begun.
‘Although what?’
Greg sighed. ‘All right. You know about my father now. What a bastard he was. He’d always been a control freak. And he had Mum right under his thumb. She was completely dominated by him. If he decided for some reason that he didn’t want her to go shopping, or whatever it might be, then he’d make sure she didn’t. And that was that. She couldn’t do anything about it, and I was always under strict instructions not to interfere.’
‘I see. So you weren’t surprised when she didn’t turn up on Saturday morning?’
‘No. Not that surprised. A bit worried about her. I always worry about Mum. And what Dad might be doing. I didn’t know he was actually hurting her though, not physically. I told you that yesterday, Mr Vogel. And I swear it’s the truth. If I had known, I would have done something about it, whatever Mum said.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t do something about it?’
‘Of course I’m sure. What are you accusing me of? I never touched my father. I didn’t go anywhere near him.’
‘Greg, an officer has listened to the messages on your mother’s phone and read her texts. At two forty-five p.m. you texted saying you’d had enough. That you were going around to the St Anne’s Avenue house. Isn’t that right?’
The young man shrugged.
‘Greg, I need you to answer the question,’ continued Vogel.
‘I might have done.’
‘There’s no might about it, Greg,’ said Vogel. ‘I’ve just told you. We have your mother’s phone. And I think I’ve now been forwarded the appropriate messages.’