were in.
DI Warley wandered towards them. Maybe it was just Harry’s imagination, but he thought the so-called detective looked more tense than before; aggressive, almost. Without being invited, he grabbed a dining chair and swung it round so that he could sit facing them.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘we know they didn’t come here to rob you. We think they’re searching for a man by the name of Renshaw.’
Harry knew they had to go on acting naturally, so he nodded.
‘They said he’s also known as Grainger, or Miller. But we don’t know any of those names.’
‘Who is he?’ Alice asked.
‘An associate of theirs. That’s really all I can tell you.’
Harry sensed Alice was going to speak again. He squeezed her hand, but of course she wasn’t to know what he meant by it.
‘So he’s a criminal as well?’ she asked. ‘Does that mean you’re trying to find him?’
Warley nodded. ‘For his sake, it’s vital that we get to him before they do.’
The woman turned her gaze upon Alice. ‘If you know where he is, if you have any information at all …’
‘We don’t,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve been here nearly two years. Before that it was a widow, Mrs Stevens. Renshaw’s never lived here, or had any connection to this address.’
‘So why did they think he had?’ Cassell asked. She was still staring hard at Alice, and so was Warley. Harry remembered what Ruth had said: it’s unlikely that they’ll return, but you can’t rule it out.
Especially if they believe you kept something from them .
A lice knew she had to answer the question, but it felt like her throat was slowly filling with sand. She was trying to work out how Warley could have known about the patio doors. Her first thought was that he had spotted Steve’s handiwork – and perhaps there was still a lingering smell of sawdust in the air – but as she’d gone to ask him the other possibility had suddenly occurred to her.
These people were imposters.
Then Harry had changed the subject, and now he was squeezing her hand, a gesture of support but also, she realised, as a warning. Once again he came to her rescue, answering the query that had been directed at her.
‘Because of the parcel. They seemed to think we’d had a parcel, addressed to Renshaw.’
Grainger , Alice wanted to correct him, until she realised that Harry’s error might be deliberate. He was testing them.
‘And had you?’ Cassell asked.
‘No, absolutely not,’ Harry snapped.
Warley bowed his head, examining his shoes for a second. They were dirty and scuffed, Alice noticed, whereas the suit was brand new. It looked cheap, didn’t fit him very well. Had it been bought in a hurry, to enable him to play this role?
He looked up. ‘Why don’t you take us through it, from the moment you first became aware they were in the house? Tell us everything you can remember.’
H arry did most of the talking, and quickly saw how this irritated them. There were frequent suspicious glances at Alice, as if they felt she might know more than Harry did. Or maybe they viewed her as the weaker link.
The detectives were particularly interested in the parcel, though to an extent they tried to disguise that fact. Lots of unrelated questions were thrown in, but by paying attention to their body language Harry could see how they relaxed slightly, then grew more alert whenever they returned to the key issues.
He gave them an accurate account of what had happened, mindful that everything he told them might later be compared with the report from last night’s intruders. He maintained that he and Alice knew nothing about any parcel. The whole thing was a dreadful mistake: nothing more.
When Harry described in detail how the man with the knife had assaulted his wife and child, Alice’s face flushed and she began to weep quietly. Harry felt horribly callous for thinking it, but he knew her reaction didn’t harm their case at all. Warley and Cassell listened impassively, though the
DI Warley wandered towards them. Maybe it was just Harry’s imagination, but he thought the so-called detective looked more tense than before; aggressive, almost. Without being invited, he grabbed a dining chair and swung it round so that he could sit facing them.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘we know they didn’t come here to rob you. We think they’re searching for a man by the name of Renshaw.’
Harry knew they had to go on acting naturally, so he nodded.
‘They said he’s also known as Grainger, or Miller. But we don’t know any of those names.’
‘Who is he?’ Alice asked.
‘An associate of theirs. That’s really all I can tell you.’
Harry sensed Alice was going to speak again. He squeezed her hand, but of course she wasn’t to know what he meant by it.
‘So he’s a criminal as well?’ she asked. ‘Does that mean you’re trying to find him?’
Warley nodded. ‘For his sake, it’s vital that we get to him before they do.’
The woman turned her gaze upon Alice. ‘If you know where he is, if you have any information at all …’
‘We don’t,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve been here nearly two years. Before that it was a widow, Mrs Stevens. Renshaw’s never lived here, or had any connection to this address.’
‘So why did they think he had?’ Cassell asked. She was still staring hard at Alice, and so was Warley. Harry remembered what Ruth had said: it’s unlikely that they’ll return, but you can’t rule it out.
Especially if they believe you kept something from them .
A lice knew she had to answer the question, but it felt like her throat was slowly filling with sand. She was trying to work out how Warley could have known about the patio doors. Her first thought was that he had spotted Steve’s handiwork – and perhaps there was still a lingering smell of sawdust in the air – but as she’d gone to ask him the other possibility had suddenly occurred to her.
These people were imposters.
Then Harry had changed the subject, and now he was squeezing her hand, a gesture of support but also, she realised, as a warning. Once again he came to her rescue, answering the query that had been directed at her.
‘Because of the parcel. They seemed to think we’d had a parcel, addressed to Renshaw.’
Grainger , Alice wanted to correct him, until she realised that Harry’s error might be deliberate. He was testing them.
‘And had you?’ Cassell asked.
‘No, absolutely not,’ Harry snapped.
Warley bowed his head, examining his shoes for a second. They were dirty and scuffed, Alice noticed, whereas the suit was brand new. It looked cheap, didn’t fit him very well. Had it been bought in a hurry, to enable him to play this role?
He looked up. ‘Why don’t you take us through it, from the moment you first became aware they were in the house? Tell us everything you can remember.’
H arry did most of the talking, and quickly saw how this irritated them. There were frequent suspicious glances at Alice, as if they felt she might know more than Harry did. Or maybe they viewed her as the weaker link.
The detectives were particularly interested in the parcel, though to an extent they tried to disguise that fact. Lots of unrelated questions were thrown in, but by paying attention to their body language Harry could see how they relaxed slightly, then grew more alert whenever they returned to the key issues.
He gave them an accurate account of what had happened, mindful that everything he told them might later be compared with the report from last night’s intruders. He maintained that he and Alice knew nothing about any parcel. The whole thing was a dreadful mistake: nothing more.
When Harry described in detail how the man with the knife had assaulted his wife and child, Alice’s face flushed and she began to weep quietly. Harry felt horribly callous for thinking it, but he knew her reaction didn’t harm their case at all. Warley and Cassell listened impassively, though the
Similar Books
