distinctly odd about her, if you ask me,’ Sam said.
‘Odd in what way?’
‘I don’t know, really. There’s nothing I can put my finger on, but I didn’t believe a single word she said.’
Geraldine nodded.
‘I thought that too. She’s covering something up, but what? It might have nothing whatever to do with her husband’s death, but she was definitely frightened.’
‘Yes, that’s the impression I had, which suggests –’ Sam left the sentence unfinished.
CHAPTER 11
T he pathologist’s report made unpleasant reading. The vicious injuries inflicted on Henshaw seemed to suggest the killer had known his victim. If that was true, with luck it could make the case relatively easy to wrap up; sooner or later painstaking investigation into everyone who knew Henshaw would lead to the murderer. In the meantime, Reg Milton was waiting impatiently to find out what information had been gathered so far. After spending most of the day studying reports, there had been little time to deal with a pile of paperwork that was growing on his desk, trivial but pressing.
The detective chief inspector had summoned his team for a late afternoon briefing and waited while they all gathered in the incident room. Geraldine and Sam entered together, both clutching cups of coffee, smiling at something they had just been discussing. Watching them, Reg felt a pang of regret at the camaraderie he had relinquished in moving up the hierarchy. He greeted them all cheerfully before turning to Geraldine.
‘You questioned Keith Apsley, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did you make of him?’
‘I think he was on the level, sir.’
‘My name’s Reg,’ he reminded her with a smile.
‘Sorry. Old habits die hard. I’m used to working in the Home Counties.’
When Geraldine returned his smile, Reg thought that perhaps he had been right to go for promotion after all. Forming an effective team out of a disparate group of strangers was just a different kind of challenge to those faced by officers working out in the community. Even behind a desk he could make a difference. He turned his attention to what Geraldine was saying.
‘Apsley was irritated that the Mercedes had been left right outside his garage, so he checked it out. At first he thought the man in the driver’s seat was asleep, probably drunk, but after a while he realised something was wrong – he noticed blood outside the vehicle and wasn’t able to rouse the man, so he called it in. That seems to be the extent of his involvement.’
‘Why did it take him so long to call us?’ someone wanted to know.
Geraldine shrugged.
‘That part of his statement’s not altogether clear. He claims he didn’t realise straight away that there was anything wrong. He didn’t notice the body in the morning.’
‘Didn’t notice it?’
‘Yes sir– Reg. The thing is, it’s possible, because the car’s got tinted windows. I believe him. He was in a hurry to get off to work and thought he could leave it till later to deal with. He was hoping someone would come and remove the car by the time he got home yesterday evening.’
Samantha Haley shook her head impatiently and looked as though she was about to speak, but Reg turned to a detective constable who had been doing some research into the witness. He wanted to share some facts before listening to any more speculation about whether or not he was telling the truth.
‘Has he got form?’
‘No. There’s nothing on him or his wife. Both working, nothing on either of them.’
Reg turned to another constable who had been looking into the victim’s background. It was similarly uneventful.
‘Not so much as a parking ticket, and that’s quite a feat considering they live in Hampstead. He wasn’t born to money. Grew up on a council estate in South London.’
‘So the money came from his wife?’
The constable shook his head.
‘Patrick Henshaw was a self-made man. In his twenties he made some very lucrative
‘Odd in what way?’
‘I don’t know, really. There’s nothing I can put my finger on, but I didn’t believe a single word she said.’
Geraldine nodded.
‘I thought that too. She’s covering something up, but what? It might have nothing whatever to do with her husband’s death, but she was definitely frightened.’
‘Yes, that’s the impression I had, which suggests –’ Sam left the sentence unfinished.
CHAPTER 11
T he pathologist’s report made unpleasant reading. The vicious injuries inflicted on Henshaw seemed to suggest the killer had known his victim. If that was true, with luck it could make the case relatively easy to wrap up; sooner or later painstaking investigation into everyone who knew Henshaw would lead to the murderer. In the meantime, Reg Milton was waiting impatiently to find out what information had been gathered so far. After spending most of the day studying reports, there had been little time to deal with a pile of paperwork that was growing on his desk, trivial but pressing.
The detective chief inspector had summoned his team for a late afternoon briefing and waited while they all gathered in the incident room. Geraldine and Sam entered together, both clutching cups of coffee, smiling at something they had just been discussing. Watching them, Reg felt a pang of regret at the camaraderie he had relinquished in moving up the hierarchy. He greeted them all cheerfully before turning to Geraldine.
‘You questioned Keith Apsley, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did you make of him?’
‘I think he was on the level, sir.’
‘My name’s Reg,’ he reminded her with a smile.
‘Sorry. Old habits die hard. I’m used to working in the Home Counties.’
When Geraldine returned his smile, Reg thought that perhaps he had been right to go for promotion after all. Forming an effective team out of a disparate group of strangers was just a different kind of challenge to those faced by officers working out in the community. Even behind a desk he could make a difference. He turned his attention to what Geraldine was saying.
‘Apsley was irritated that the Mercedes had been left right outside his garage, so he checked it out. At first he thought the man in the driver’s seat was asleep, probably drunk, but after a while he realised something was wrong – he noticed blood outside the vehicle and wasn’t able to rouse the man, so he called it in. That seems to be the extent of his involvement.’
‘Why did it take him so long to call us?’ someone wanted to know.
Geraldine shrugged.
‘That part of his statement’s not altogether clear. He claims he didn’t realise straight away that there was anything wrong. He didn’t notice the body in the morning.’
‘Didn’t notice it?’
‘Yes sir– Reg. The thing is, it’s possible, because the car’s got tinted windows. I believe him. He was in a hurry to get off to work and thought he could leave it till later to deal with. He was hoping someone would come and remove the car by the time he got home yesterday evening.’
Samantha Haley shook her head impatiently and looked as though she was about to speak, but Reg turned to a detective constable who had been doing some research into the witness. He wanted to share some facts before listening to any more speculation about whether or not he was telling the truth.
‘Has he got form?’
‘No. There’s nothing on him or his wife. Both working, nothing on either of them.’
Reg turned to another constable who had been looking into the victim’s background. It was similarly uneventful.
‘Not so much as a parking ticket, and that’s quite a feat considering they live in Hampstead. He wasn’t born to money. Grew up on a council estate in South London.’
‘So the money came from his wife?’
The constable shook his head.
‘Patrick Henshaw was a self-made man. In his twenties he made some very lucrative
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