The Fourth Friend (DI Jackman & DS Evans #3)(40)

Joanne Simms, Ray’s heartbroken fiancée. He nodded to himself and scrolled through again, watching for the name Joanne.

And there it was.



‘Can you tell us the reason why Tom Holland was staying over at Ray Barratt’s flat?’

‘He and his wife had had a bit of a falling out, that’s all.’

‘Do you know what about?’

‘A something and a nothing was all Ray told me. He was sure it would all blow over quickly, but then . . .’

Then they all died, thought Robbie.

‘How long did he stay?’

‘Four or five nights, yes, five I think, and then it was the stag . . .’



In the quiet of the big room, Robbie almost heard the girl sobbing through Charlie’s soft snores.

A something and a nothing. It clearly wasn’t serious as far as Joanne was concerned. But maybe Tom thought it was. Or Suzanne. Maybe he hadn’t walked out. Maybe she had thrown him out.

Robbie yawned. If he couldn’t ask Carter, Joanne seemed the best place to begin. He scribbled her name on a memo and left it on his desk.

He closed the door quietly behind him. Charlie Button slept on.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jackman was pacing the office. ‘No news about our witness?’

‘Not yet.’ Marie looked at her watch. ‘The duty sergeant said he would notify us as soon as he arrives. Maybe the traffic’s bad.’

Jackman didn’t answer. He had spent half the night worrying about Alan Pitt. He wished now that he had disregarded the man’s wishes and just gone to the hospital. This Pitt was the only person who might have seen something that could move the case forward, and now he was thirty minutes late.

Marie nibbled on her lower lip. ‘There’s a lot of reasons why he could be held up, sir. He didn’t even give us an exact time, so let’s not give up hope. He’ll be here.’

Jackman knew Marie, and he knew she was trying to buoy him up, while feeling just as concerned as he was. ‘We should have got to him yesterday, the minute he rang.’

‘We should have, but we didn’t. Spilt milk and all that.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Want a coffee?’

‘Another coffee?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s something to do.’

Then the phone rang. They looked at each other. ‘Jackman.’

‘Your man is here. I’ve put him in Interview Room 2, okay?’

‘Thank you, Sergeant. We’ll be down immediately.’

‘Saved from the coffee!’ Marie smiled.

Jackman nodded. ‘I really thought . . .’

‘Me too, if you must know.’

‘I did. Right, let’s go. We have a possible witness.’

*

As soon as Marie saw Alan Pitt, she knew Jackman had been right. He had been undergoing chemotherapy.

Pitt wore a woolly beanie hat with the Lincoln Imps logo embroidered across the front. He was painfully thin under his several layers of clothing. His face was sallow and his cheekbones protruded. She was very pleased that they had not bothered him yesterday.

Jackman introduced them, and she offered Pitt a cup of tea or coffee.

‘Just water, please. The drugs make anything else taste really odd.’

‘It’s very good of you to come in, sir. We’d have been happy to visit you at home.’

The man looked around the cold, grey room and grinned. ‘Funnily enough, this makes a refreshing change from looking at those sterile hospital walls. I’ve never been in a police station before. It’s quite exciting.’

Marie wished she could feel the same about the place.

Jackman switched on the tape machine, raced through the introductions and explained that it was just an informal interview. Afterwards, Mr Pitt would be asked to sign a statement affirming that what he had said was correct to the best of his knowledge.

‘You believe that you saw two males on the evening of Tuesday, February 9, in the vicinity of the missing woman’s home, is that correct?’

Pitt nodded. ‘Oh, I need to speak, don’t I? I did. Yes.’

‘Can you tell us why you were on the towpath at that time of night? And what time you were there.’

‘Ten fifteen. I know because I usually walk my dog then. We go out at ten o’clock, walk along the towpath for a quarter of an hour, then walk home.’ He sipped his water. ‘I was just about to turn around when I heard voices, and I saw these two men on the lane leading to the Holland Cottage garden. They were just off the main path, by the gateway that leads across the fields to Mallard Lodge.’

‘Did you speak to them?’

‘I was going to, but they seemed to be talking in a rather heated manner, so I left them to it. I don’t think they even knew I was there.’

‘And you never saw them again?’

He shook his head. ‘I went straight home and no one passed me.’

‘Now we come to the million dollar question, Mr Pitt. Could you describe them for us?’

‘Oh yes. Well, as I said, one of them.’

Marie wasn’t holding her breath. She’d heard that so many times before.

‘It was a clear night, and almost a full moon. He was tall, around six foot I think, good physique. By that I mean he looked a pretty powerful guy.’