‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all.’

‘You see, he had a grudge against Williams.’

‘I know. He told me. But it was his fault, he should have had money lodged with a solicitor, but he thought Williams’s reputation as a man with a bottomless money bag was safe enough. He won’t make that mistake again.’

‘Two of you together, you with a strong motivation to murder both Mr and Mrs Williams and he with a grudge.

After a few pints, feeding into each other…then you took turns to do the digging of the grave…two strong blokes, easy work Sheringham shook his head whilst smiling in a classically patronizing gesture which Hennessey felt was calculated to provoke him into violence. He was forced to concede that Sheringham’s ploy very nearly worked. He counted slowly and silently to ten. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘Mrs Richardson cleaned up.’

Sheringham remained silent.

‘She’s a lazy woman.’

‘Who?’

‘Michael Richardson’s wife. I’ve never been in her home, but Mick’s forever complaining about it, fag ash everywhere. I tell you, if I did want someone to clean up after a murder, it wouldn’t be Mrs Richardson.’

Hennessey glanced at Yellich, who nodded.

‘You see,’ Sheringham smiled. ‘You can’t make a case, because there is no case to make. Yes, all right, I have benefited from the murder, hers anyway, it’s a neat and an unexpected solution, but that doesn’t mean to say I murdered them. I didn’t.’

‘Chief Inspector Hennessey.’ Fee spoke slowly. ‘I have to move that you now either charge my client or release him from custody pending further enquiries.’

A pause.

The twin spools spun.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Hennessey said, ‘This interview is concluded at eleven-fifty-five a.m.’ He switched the machine off and the red light faded.

Hennessey left the interview room and walked down the corridor towards his office and then stopped in his tracks, as if he had received a blow to the stomach. He remained motionless. Then he recommenced walking.

He walked past his office.

He walked out of the building.

He walked the walls. Twice. But took no notice of the ancient city.

He returned to Micklegate Bar Police Station.

He went to Sergeant Yellich’s office. Yellich was sitting at his desk. Hennessey stood in front of the desk and said, ‘We’ve been looking in the wrong direction.’

‘Sir?’

‘We were right, there is a conspiracy.’ He sat in the chair, folded into it, it seemed to Yellich. ‘And you were right, there is a woman’s hand in this. But it’s not the Richardsons and Sheringham.’

‘No, sir?’

‘No. Let me get this right in my own head. Ten years ago Marcus Williams died, drowned in his bath. The coroner thought it might have been suicide, hence the open verdict. A young man was seen in the vicinity of the house at the time of his death, that same young man was a mourner at the funeral, when he wore the uniform of a naval officer.’

‘Could only have been Rufus Williams.’

‘That’s my thinking. But Marcus Williams wouldn’t allow anybody near him unless he knew them.’

‘He also had a pack of very solemn dogs to protect him.’

‘Hence Rufus calling on him and getting to know the dogs, getting them to recognize and trust him.’

‘How did he get through the gates, boss? They’d be locked.’

‘What are the walls of the grounds like?’

‘About as high as this room, covered in ivy.’

‘Even I, at my venerable age, could clamber over that, Yellich.’

‘Yes, boss.’

‘So that’s how he got in. Keeps the dogs outside. Goes into the house…he’s a big guy, strong guy, separates himself from the dogs…there’s a dog flap in the front door, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, boss, easy to jam shut with something though.’

‘Oh my…the thought of what happened next…picks his uncle up, carries him upstairs under his arm…removes his clothes without tearing them ‘Like undressing a child.’

‘Forces the taps on. They haven’t been used for years, but he has the strength to free them off. Immerses his uncle and sits on him until he drowns, but makes sure there’s no bruising. Holds him, but not tightly enough to cause injury…then leaves him to be discovered, and he did that because he didn’t know about Marcus Williams’s fear of drowning.’

‘That’s a very solemn level of premeditation there, boss, very solemn.’

‘Isn’t it? But what’s the motivation, why kill an uncle who has been a source of warmth, when your father has been a source of coldness?’

‘Nowt so queer as folk, boss.’

‘Which in this case is not the answer, Yellich. What would you kill for, Yellich?’

‘Passion, boss. I don’t like to admit it, but I think I could kill for passion, not so much me, but if anyone harmed Sarah or Jeremy, I could kill ‘That makes you a human being, Yellich. But ponder Rufus Williams, what could motivate him to clamber the walls of Oakfield House, pat the Dobermans on the head as they bound up to him with their little tails wagging, then, leaving the dogs outside, go into the house, and to wherever his uncle is and say, “Hello, little man, I’m here to kill you.” If passion wasn’t the motive, what was?’

‘Greed. Lust for filthy lucre.’

‘Has to be, doesn’t it? Either out of greed, or fear of poverty, if they are not in fact the same thing. Nicola Williams told me that her brother often used the phrase “drowning in poverty”, or specifically fear of same.’

‘I can see an obstacle, boss. An obstruction in sequence of logic’

‘Go on.’

‘How could he know what his uncle was worth? How did he know the uncle would name his brother, the uncle’s brother, Rufus’s father, as main beneficiary?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t know. At the end of the day it may be that his fear of drowning in poverty made him think the gamble was worth taking. The gamble being that his uncle was worth enough to murder for, and the gamble that his uncle either had left no will at all, or had named Max Williams, his brother, as main beneficiary in his will; either way, Max Williams would benefit. And if Max Williams benefited, so did Rufus and Nicola. Put them in direct line of inheritance and maybe an earlier access to it, which is how it turned out because both Rufus and Nicola enjoyed a stipend from daddy to supplement their salaries.’

‘He just took the risk that Marcus Williams hadn’t left a will naming a cats’ home as the sole beneficiary. Yes, I can see that.’ Yellich paused. ‘But that doesn’t explain what happened at the family bungalow last Saturday night. Suppose only he can tell us that. Shall we bring him in, boss? Time for a quiz session?’

Hennessey paused. ‘No…’ he said. ‘No, bring his sister in. She’ll be at his rented cottage doing his packing for him. She can tell us what happened at the bungalow, and not only can, but I’ve an old copper’s feeling that she will tell us.’

Nicola Williams trembled with fear, she looked pale, wide eyed, on the verge of tears.

Hennessey switched on the tape-recording machine, the twin spools spun, the red recording light glowed. Hennessey said, ‘The date is Saturday, the thirteenth of June…’ He paused. ‘The thirteenth of June…the time is two p.m. The place is Micklegate Bar Police Station in the City of York. I am Chief Inspector Hennessey. I am now going to ask the other people present in the room to identify themselves.’

‘Detective Sergeant Yellich.’

‘Nicola Williams.’

‘Miss Williams, can you confirm that you are here of your own volition?’

‘I have not been arrested, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Do you wish a solicitor to be present?’

‘No.’

Hennessey paused; he didn’t know how to approach Miss Williams. He felt he could work his way round the edges in ever diminishing circles and, by that means, get to the heart of the matter, or he could cut the Gordian knot. He felt both Yellich and Nicola Williams waiting his gambit. He decided on the latter option, risky as it was, he would cut the knot. ‘Miss Williams, I have been hearing a lot about drowning lately. I have to tell you that you too are in danger of drowning.’