A Killing Resurrected (38 page)

He paused to scan the whiteboards one last time. ‘I'll talk to Mrs Chadwell myself,' he said, ‘so, Forsythe, you'll be with me for the interview, and you and Len can deal with Chadwell,' he told Tregalles.

Tregalles groaned. ‘Chadwell's a pillock,' he said. ‘Besides, Forsythe is better with him than I am. Can't we swop?'

‘Afraid not, Tregalles,' Paget said. ‘With the way things have been going, I don't want anything to go wrong, so I need another female in the room when I interview Mrs Chadwell.'

When Chadwell was brought in, he'd refused to say anything without his lawyer being present. Now, with Kevin Taylor sitting beside him in the interview room, he continued to deny having anything to do with the attack on Sharon Jessop, and he insisted that his wife was mistaken about the time he'd left the house.

‘She never did have much of a concept of time,' he said with a dismissive shrug. ‘Always late for things. You can't put any faith in anything she tells you when it comes to time. I'm telling you, I didn't leave the house until something like twenty past ten, and I was in the Green Man by twenty to eleven at the latest.'

‘She told us you usually watch television between ten and midnight, but she remembers turning the set off before going to bed that night, because you had left the house by then.'

‘Oh, God, that woman,' Chadwell said with a sigh of long-suffering. ‘She fell asleep watching television while I was getting ready to go out, and she only woke up when I told her I was leaving and I wouldn't be late home. That's when she turned it off.'

‘So what about the woman who served you at the Green Man? She says it was close to eleven when she first served you,' said Tregalles.

Chadwell shook his head impatiently. ‘That was the
second
time,' he insisted. ‘She served me when I first went in. Granted she was busy, so I suppose it's not surprising she didn't remember when I asked for the same again.'

‘Except she claims to have a very good memory for people and the drinks they order, especially when they come in for the first time. Which was what made her suspicious when you tried to suggest that she'd served you earlier.'

‘That's nonsense,' Chadwell said contemptuously. ‘The woman just doesn't want to admit she's wrong.'

Ormside stirred. ‘Funny, but it seems odd to me that no one other than you has a good memory,' he observed drily. ‘What about the woman behind the bar in the Rose and Crown? Is she mistaken as well?'

Chadwell was quick to mask the shock that flared in his eyes, but it was clear to both detectives that he had been shaken. He cast a furtive sidelong glance at Kevin Taylor, but there was no visible response from the lawyer.

He moistened his lips. ‘I told him,' he said with a nod in Tregalles's direction, ‘that I hadn't been in the Rose and Crown for years, and I haven't, so I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Strange, but we have a witness who says otherwise,' Tregalles told him. ‘Last Saturday around noon? Does that jog your memory, Mr Chadwell?'

‘It isn't
my
memory that needs jogging,' Chadwell snarled. ‘I'm telling you, I was nowhere near the Rose and Crown last Saturday or any other time in recent years for that matter.'

‘So everyone is lying except you, is that it, Mr Chadwell?'

Chadwell sat back in his chair and folded his arms, but he didn't reply.

Tregalles tried another tack. ‘You used your wife's car when you went to meet Roger Corbett at the Unicorn, didn't you?' he said.

‘So? What if I did? Is there some law against that, too?' Chadwell asked sarcastically.

‘No, but there are laws against murder, Mr Chadwell, and we have a witness who saw you in that car when you left Corbett's house
very
close to the time he was killed, and I'm wondering if you intend to claim that this witness was mistaken as well?'

Chadwell's eyes narrowed, his face a mask as he tried to hold Tregalles's gaze. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' he said as he turned to Kevin Taylor. ‘Look,' he said, ‘I don't know what they're talking about. I went down to the Unicorn to look for him, but he wasn't there. I went outside, searched the car park and immediate area for any sign of him or his car, and when I couldn't find him or his car, I went home. End of story. And if they did have a witness to any of this, they'd have charged me by now.

‘As for this crazy woman and her wild stories, the one who tried to blackmail me, I have no idea why she picked me as her target. The only reason I agreed to meet her at the pub was because I remembered her from our university days, and she was making such a balls up of trying to blackmail me, that I was curious. But as I told them before, she didn't turn up, so I went home.' Chadwell shoved his chair back. ‘And I don't intend to sit here and be called a liar,' he concluded with a malevolent glance at Tregalles.

‘Nor should you have to,' Taylor agreed. ‘So, Sergeant, unless you are prepared to back your accusations by charging my client, I'm advising him to answer no more questions, and we are finished here.'

Tregalles would have dearly loved to charge Chadwell, but he had already stretched the truth when he'd said they had a witness who had seen Chadwell outside Corbett's house. ‘Be that as it may,' he said, ‘but we still need a formal statement from Mr Chadwell.'

‘And you shall have it, Sergeant,' Taylor said blandly. ‘But not now when Mr Chadwell is clearly being subjected to pressure. Perhaps tomorrow. I'm sure it can wait till then. So, unless there is anything else, I take it we can go . . .?'

‘Cocky bugger,' Ormside observed laconically a few minutes later as he and Tregalles watched Chadwell and Taylor cross the car park, deep in conversation. The two detectives stood at the top of the main entrance steps, grateful for a breath of fresh air after the stale dead air of the interview room.

‘Not quite as cocky as when he came in,' Tregalles muttered, still chafing at having to let Chadwell go. ‘God! I'd really like to nail the slimy sod.'

‘I meant his friend, Taylor,' Ormside said. ‘Although they don't look all that friendly at the moment, do they?'

Ormside was right. Chadwell and Taylor had stopped to face each other as they reached Taylor's car, and Chadwell was clearly upset about something. He was waving his arms about and talking loudly – unfortunately not loud enough for the two detectives to hear what he was saying – but if Taylor's body language was anything to go by, he didn't like what he was hearing. He started to turn away, but Chadwell grabbed his arm and spun him round to face him. That was a mistake, because Chadwell suddenly found himself face down across the bonnet of the car, with his arm twisted behind his back.

‘Reckon we could arrest them for brawling in a public place?' Ormside asked.

It was almost as if Taylor had heard him, because he glanced in their direction, then, still keeping Chadwell pinned down, he bent and said something to the struggling man before releasing him. He stepped back, straightened his tie, then got into the car. Slowly, Chadwell pushed himself upright and flexed his arm as if to make sure it was still working. Then he walked around to the other side of the car and got in.

‘So, what's the next move?' Ormside asked as they went back into the building. ‘Forensic says they won't have time to do anything with Mrs Chadwell's car until after the weekend, and we've had no success in finding anyone who saw Corbett and Chadwell together in the vicinity of the Unicorn, so let's hope the boss fares better with Mrs Chadwell than we did with her husband.'

‘Not much chance of that,' Tregalles said glumly. ‘I don't think she knows much more than we do. Even if she does and agrees to testify against him, she's not the sort who would do well in a witness box. She wouldn't last five minutes under cross examination.'

B
ehind the closed door of interview room number one, Paget and Molly Forsythe were still talking to Amy Chadwell. From the very beginning, Paget had done everything he could to put her at ease and assure her that she was only there to clarify some of the information she had already given before signing a formal statement.

But Amy sat stiffly in her chair, hands folded in her lap, fingers plucking nervously at the mother-of-pearl buttons on the cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse. Her eyes were watchful, and her face was even paler than it had been the day before, and her answers were far more hesitant and circumspect.

At first, Molly thought it was nothing more than nervousness. After all, it wasn't every day the police came knocking on your door, take possession of your car, and insist that you accompany them to the station. But it was becoming clear that something more was bothering Amy Chadwell.

Molly was still thinking about that when Paget asked Amy about her husband leaving the house to meet his ‘friend' on Saturday evening. ‘You told Sergeant Tregalles that your husband left the house just before ten—' he said, only to be cut off by Amy in mid-sentence.

‘No, no, that's not right,' she said quickly. ‘Sorry.' She flicked an apologetic glance at Molly. ‘I was going to tell you. I remembered after you left; I was wrong about the time. I forgot I fell asleep watching television, and it was half
past
ten when I woke up, and John was just going out. I made a mistake. It was half past ten, not ten o'clock when he left the house.'

‘You seemed to be quite certain yesterday that Mr Chadwell left the house before ten,' said Molly.

Amy looked away. ‘Yes, I know,' she said huskily, ‘but as I said, I forgot. It wasn't until John reminded me . . . I'm sorry if I misled you. It wasn't intentional.'

‘Are you quite sure you aren't misleading us now, Mrs Chadwell?' asked Paget.

Amy shook her head, but she avoided his eyes.

‘So you would be prepared to swear to that in a court of law if it comes to it?' he asked gently.

Amy Chadwell drew a deep breath. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘Yes, of course. It's the truth.'

‘Very well then, Mrs Chadwell, let's leave that for the moment and talk about the other phone call, the one you received on Tuesday, July fourteenth, from Roger Corbett at approximately four o'clock in the afternoon.'

‘I took the call but Roger wanted to speak to John,' she said quickly. ‘As I said yesterday, I could barely make out what he was saying, so you would have to talk to John about that.'

‘But I believe you were on there long enough to hear Mr Corbett say something like “Everything is coming apart”. Isn't that right, Mrs Chadwell?'

‘Did I?' she said vaguely. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, looking at Molly, ‘but I was so surprised and shocked by what you were suggesting that I really don't remember what I said.'

‘But I'm sure you do remember telling Sergeant Tregalles and DC Forsythe that your husband responded quickly to Corbett's plea for help, and he left the house within fifteen minutes of receiving the call. Is that not right, Mrs Chadwell?'

Amy looked down at her hands, frowning. ‘I'm sorry,' she said again, ‘but I really don't remember. Thinking about it now, I seem to remember John having to finish some work for the council before he left.' She spread her hands apologetically. ‘John will tell you I have a terrible memory for things like that.'

‘And a selective one as well,' said Paget thinly. ‘Tell me about your car. Why did Mr Chadwell take it rather than his own?'

‘He was in a hurry. His car was in the garage and mine was on the street, and he wanted to get back in time to finish his work for the—' Amy stopped, mouth half open, eyes wide as she realized what she was saying, and colour flooded into her face.

‘He was in a hurry,' Paget said deliberately, ‘because he knew he had to get to Corbett before the man did something foolish and started talking to us about what happened thirteen years ago. That is why he left right away, isn't it, Mrs Chadwell? He met Corbett at the Unicorn, then drove him to his house in your car, which was seen by a neighbour, and he drowned Corbett in the fish pond. We know a woman was with him, Mrs Chadwell, and I think that woman was you!'

‘No!' Amy jerked backwards in her chair as if she'd been struck. ‘I'm not listening to this,' she said shrilly. She started to rise, then clutched at her shoulder and sat down hard on the chair, face distorted with pain. She sat gasping for air as both Molly and Paget rounded the table to help her. Molly reached out to her, but Amy shook her head violently from side to side and tried to pull away.

‘No, no, I'm all right,' she gasped, shrinking back in her chair. ‘Really, it's just –' she closed her eyes – ‘cramp,' she said breathlessly. ‘It happens sometimes.'

Molly and Paget exchanged glances. ‘I think it's a bit more than cramp, Mrs Chadwell,' said Molly. ‘Please, let me look.'

‘No, really, that's all it is. It took me by surprise, that's all,' Amy insisted. ‘I'll be all right in a minute. I just need to go home.'

‘I'm afraid we can't let you do that until we've had a doctor examine you,' Paget told her. ‘Our regulations won't permit it. Anyone who becomes ill or is injured during an interview or while in police custody must be examined by our doctor or taken immediately to hospital.'

‘But I'm all right. It's passing. Honestly. Please, just let me go home.'

Molly, who had been watching closely, said, ‘It's not just your shoulder, is it, Mrs Chadwell? It's your ribs as well. And your arm. Would you mind rolling up your sleeve?' She reached out to undo the buttons on the cuff.

Panic flared in Amy's eyes. ‘You can't do this,' she panted. She jerked her arm away, but the sudden movement brought a sharp cry of pain, and tears spilled down her cheeks. The sleeve came loose and Molly pushed it gently up her arm.