‘All right.’

‘I presume you must have told your wife some story about where you were, by the way?’

‘I told her I was putting in an extra shift at the factory. I work for Rolls Royce in Derby, and she doesn’t really have any idea what we do there, so I can just say we have a rush job on.’

‘Fine.’

Hitchens opened the file again and picked up his pen. ‘Do you want to give me the name of your girlfriend now?’

‘Stella Searle. She lives at Magpie Cottage, right next to the churchyard in Foxlow.’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

‘Stella’s divorced. She lives in that cottage on her own.’

‘I’m sure that makes it better.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘So what time did the night shift start?’ asked Hitchens.

‘Sorry?’

‘I mean, what time did you arrive in Foxlow to visit your divorcée?’

‘Oh, about half past eleven. I don’t go there until it’s dark – people who live in villages are so nosy they want to know everything about you. I park the car on a lane behind the churchyard. There are no lights there, but there’s a back gate into Stell’s garden.’

‘Very handy. This Magpie Cottage – it would be right on the corner of Foxlow High Street and Pinfold Lane, am I right?’

‘That’s it.’

‘So what time did you leave on Sunday morning? Be as accurate as you can, please.’

‘It was close to three o’clock. I always leave at that time. That’s when the late shift ends, so I get home about the right time.’

‘OK, now we get to the bit where you might be able to help us, Darren. Did you see or hear anything as you were leaving the cottage? At three o’clock in the morning, it ought to have been very quiet. I’m hoping you were alert enough to notice any activity, even after your visit.’

Turnbull lowered his voice. ‘Yes, I did see something.’

‘What did you see?’

‘A black car. Big four-by-four, it was. Japanese. Tinted windows. Smart motor.’

‘Japanese? Did you recognize the make?’

‘Mmm, I’m not sure. Some of them are a bit similar, aren’t they? Toyota, Mitsubishi?’

Hitchens sighed. ‘Did you happen to see any part of the registration number?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘But you’re sure of the colour? Even though it was dark?’

‘I saw it pass under a streetlamp – the one by the phone box. It’s the nearest one to Stella’s house.’

‘How many occupants?’

‘One in the front, at least. I couldn’t tell if there was anyone in the back because of the tinted windows. Sorry.’

‘And this vehicle was heading in the direction of Bain House?’

‘If that’s the big house with the gates at the top of Pinfold Lane, it definitely went that way, then came back towards the High Street.’

‘All right, Darren. If you wait here, we’ll get someone to show you some photos, and we’ll see if you can identify the make and model of the car you saw.’

‘What? Can’t I go yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I had no connection with that woman at all, you know,’ said Turnbull. ‘Except that I was in the village when she died.’

Having given this information, Turnbull suddenly regained confidence and turned belligerent.

‘I could put in a complaint about the foreign bloke,’ he said. ‘He hurt my arm in Matlock. And I’ve got a scratch on my face. He’s not supposed to do that, is he? I wasn’t even under arrest – you said so.’

‘We could soon change that, Darren.’

‘It’s not right.’

‘If you want to make a formal complaint about the conduct of any police officers, speak to the custody sergeant and he’ll give you a form to fill in.’

When they were alone in the corridor, Hitchens looked at Fry quizzically. ‘Foreign bloke? Sergeant Kotsev?’

‘He isn’t quite used to our procedures yet,’ said Fry.

‘Kotsev is only here as an observer, Diane. You’re responsible for him. If Turnbull does put in a complaint –’

‘I don’t think he will,’ said Fry. ‘Do you? Too much chance of publicity.’

‘No, you’re right. But be careful.’

When she was alone, Fry spent some time browsing the Europol website again, checking the location of the organization’s headquarters and how to get there. It was just idle curiosity, of course. No more than that.

But now she had formed a picture in her mind. She could see herself catching the number 9 tram in the direction of Scheveningen, getting off at Riouwstraat and crossing the footbridge over the canal to reach the Europol building. If she worked there, she would find a little apartment somewhere fashionable, but central for the city. Overlooking another canal, probably. Or maybe the same canal.

Actually, she wasn’t sure how many canals there were in The Hague. She might be getting it mixed up with Amsterdam in her mind. That was easy to do, when she’d never visited either city. She didn’t even know the country. Put that way, it sounded a mad thing to do, to contemplate working in a totally foreign country. But then, why would anyone want to live in a place that they knew every little bit of?

Finally, Hitchens appeared and gestured to her, and she followed him into the DCI’s office.

‘We got Darren Turnbull to look at the motors file for us,’ said Hitchens. ‘He’s not a happy man, but looking at pictures of cars seemed to calm him down a bit.’

‘And?’

‘He thinks it was probably a Mitsubishi Shogun that he saw in Foxlow that night.’

‘Excellent,’ said Kessen.

‘We’ve checked the incident logs, and nothing is missing locally. But South Yorkshire have a hit. On Saturday evening, a black Shogun was stolen from the car park of the Church of Free Worship in Totley. That’s on the outskirts of Sheffield.’

‘Even better.’

‘Wait, there’s more. Traffic already have a report of a Shogun abandoned under a disused railway bridge near Wirksworth. Burnt out, of course. And it’s been there since Monday at least.’

‘Our suspects made a switch, then.’

‘It looks like it, sir.’

‘What’s happened to the Shogun?’

‘It’s still there at the moment. DC Cooper’s on his way to take a look.’

Kessen was looking a bit happier. ‘I don’t suppose we have any idea what kind of vehicle they might have transferred to?’

‘No. But we haven’t even started making enquiries in that area yet. We’ll give the car the works in situ, then fetch it in for the vehicle examiners.’

‘Good work, Paul. But make sure any more stolen vehicles that are found get the once-over before they’re returned to their owners. They could have made a second switch at some point. Let’s pass that request to South Yorkshire, too. Chances are they doubled back towards Sheffield from Wirksworth. These weren’t our local joy riders.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Not that we’ll get anything useful, even if we find another vehicle. We’re looking at a professional job.’

‘You know, if they’re professionals, we won’t get DNA profiles from any of these scenes. Pros make sure they keep up to date. Even joy riders don’t go out at night until they’ve watched CSI.’

‘We might get lucky.’

Hitchens shrugged. They all knew that the risk of leaving DNA was becoming familiar to career criminals. With the national database throwing up a thousand matches a week, how could it be otherwise?

‘So much for the famous village surveillance experts,’ said Fry. ‘They spotted Darren Turnbull’s Astra twice, but they never saw the Shogun.’

Hitchens looked at her. ‘What have you done with Sergeant Kotsev, by the way?’

‘I’ve given him to Ben Cooper to look after for a while.’

28

Georgi Kotsev didn’t seem at all disturbed to have left civilization behind. He waited patiently for Cooper to re-fold the map, gazing around the landscape as if he expected a few peasants to appear and direct them to the right place.

‘We’re nearly there,’ said Cooper.

‘Dobre. OK.’