Left You Dead

62

In the observation cubicle, Glenn Branson asked, ‘How are you reading Paternoster’s body language?’

‘Extremely uncomfortable,’ Roy Grace replied. ‘You?’

‘Copy, boss.’

Grace smiled. ‘You’ve been watching too much American TV.’

‘Would you rather I said “well dodgy”?’

Grace smiled thinly, then fell silent.

After some moments, Branson said, ‘So, what do we think?’

There was no reply.

He glanced round. Grace was crying.

Branson waited patiently in silence.

After a couple of minutes, Grace sniffed, wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and apologized.

‘You don’t have to apologize for anything. I wish I could do something, say something. I can’t begin to think what you’re going through — I can feel some of your pain, but not the enormity of what you’re facing.’

‘What would you do?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, in my situation. Hang on for a miracle, which isn’t going to happen, if the medics are right? Give him the dignity of keeping his body intact for his funeral? Or—’ He fell silent again.

‘Or donate his organs?’ Branson prompted.

‘Yes.’

Branson took a few moments before replying. ‘If we’re dismissing the possibility of his ever recovering?’

‘We are.’

He nodded. ‘You’ve already said that the longer you leave it to make a decision, the more likely it is that some of the major organs won’t be viable for donation, if I understood it?’

‘Yes, correct.’

‘OK, well, once someone’s dead, their soul — if we have one — departs elsewhere, leaving behind an empty shell. That’s how I see it. The shell just rots away. If you could have the knowledge that his death has helped some others to live, and some others to have a better quality of life, wouldn’t that at least make some small sense of what’s happened — and give you and Cleo the knowledge that you’ve done a good thing?’

Grace gave a slight smile which was layered with sadness. ‘I appreciate it, you’re pretty much echoing what Cleo said to me earlier. Yes, you’re right.’

‘But, ultimately, it’s only you and Cleo who can make the decision, and it has to feel right.’

‘Thanks, it is feeling right.’

‘Why don’t you go now and deal with it — that’s far more important than what’s going on here, I can handle this.’

‘I will, but another fifteen or twenty minutes isn’t going to make a difference. So let’s just review the footage from last night, OK?’ He spoke firmly, as if he’d now made up his mind and his decision had freed him.

‘OK.’

‘Norman and Jon did a good job, but—’ He hesitated.

After some moments, Branson prompted, ‘But?’

‘Let’s look at it now.’

Branson pressed the control buttons and the interview from the evening before began to replay. Both of them watched it, Grace particularly intently. Suddenly, he called out, ‘Stop!’

Obediently, the DI hit the pause button.

‘Replay that and watch Paternoster’s reaction,’ Grace said.

Moments later, the segment played again.

Norman Potting was speaking. ‘During the search of your house last night, two large sacks of cat litter were found at the rear of a cupboard, in the utility room off your kitchen. Do you have any explanation for that?’

Niall Paternoster stared back in silence for some seconds, then he said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe you.’

‘Pause it again!’ Grace said.

The image froze.

‘He’s either a damned good actor,’ Grace said, ‘or he’s telling the truth.’

‘And we know he’s not telling the truth.’

Grace looked pensive. ‘Roll it on.’

Norman Potting was speaking again. ‘Do you have any explanation for how they got there, or are you saying the police planted two sacks of cat litter in your house?’

Paternoster looked at his solicitor, then up at the ceiling and around at the walls. ‘Two sacks of litter?’

‘Correct,’ Potting said. ‘Two large sacks of Tesco Lightweight ten-litre cat litter — several weeks’ supply for a normal household cat.’

Paternoster ran his hands through his hair. Then he said, ‘All I can think of is that Eden must have bought the stuff in Tesco after I dropped her off, and someone she met in the store drove her home.’

‘Pause it again,’ Grace said.

Branson hit the button, freezing the image again, and looked at Grace, then at the screen.

‘He’s holding eye contact,’ Grace said. ‘His blink rate is steady; he’s not covering his mouth or throat.’ He shrugged. ‘None of these things is conclusive, he could just be a bloody good actor. If he had been planning to murder her for some while, he might have looked up on the internet all the signs of a liar, knowing that when the police interviewed him, they’d be looking at his body language.’

‘So you’re saying he’s either innocent — or smarter than we’re giving him credit for, boss?’

‘Bearing in mind his business partner vanished overboard while they were sailing off Perth in Western Australia, do we have a repeat pattern here?’

‘Want me to fly out to Perth to talk to the police there?’

‘Sure, ask Cassian Pewe to sanction your ticket. Tell him you need to fly Business or maybe even First so you’re fresh when you arrive.’

Branson looked at him, for a moment wondering if he was being serious, then wised up. ‘Maybe you should ask him on my behalf, boss?’

Grace pointed to his neck with his forefinger. ‘You know what? I prefer to keep this attached to my head.’

Branson smiled. ‘So we have a potential history here of our friend, Paternoster, dispatching someone with no trace — you think?’

‘I’m suggesting the mantra of all experienced financial investigators, Glenn. Follow the money.’

Branson nodded. ‘OK, so what we know is that Niall Paternoster is struggling, with a failed business, and making a small living as a taxi journeyman, driving a mate’s taxi during unsociable hours. After returning to the UK from Australia he met, charmed and married Eden, who — maybe coincidentally — has a house worth over half a million quid, plus a fair stash of cash. And now he’s offed her? Am I on the right track?’

Grace nodded. ‘That’s how the evidence is looking.’

‘Apart from his body language, boss?’

‘Apart from that — which we know is only an indication,’ he replied, then continued, ‘We made the decision as part of our interview strategy not to ask him specific questions about what has been found at Ashdown Forest. They’re still searching there and we’re waiting for DNA results. He already said in interview that he didn’t leave the house in the early hours of Friday morning, but we know the BMW was at the forest. The camera images don’t help us as to who was driving. We can ask him questions in due course and he may not pick up about the police search activity there. You never know, he may return to that area and with any luck our people will be behind him. So let’s summarize what we have so far in addition to that evidence.’

‘OK,’ Branson said. ‘Three key issues.’ He raised a finger in the air. ‘First, we’ve established he may be lying about the cat litter and the photograph.’ He added a second finger. ‘The forensics against him at the house don’t look good.’ He raised a third. ‘He has a motive, but now we have the potential sighting of Eden, his wife, on the Isle of Wight hovercraft.’

‘Your priority,’ Grace said, ‘is that sighting. Throw everything at it.’

‘We always get loads of sightings of mispers, and 99.9 per cent of the time they turn out to be wrong,’ Branson said.

‘I’d be happier if we’d seen Paternoster clearly lying just now, but we didn’t. It would help us move forward one way or the other to either verify or dismiss that sighting PDQ.’

‘Understood.’

‘In the meantime, see if we can organize a surveillance team. Regardless of the possible sighting, I want Paternoster watched from the moment we release him. Killers often behave suspiciously or return to the deposition site, either out of some macabre curiosity or to make sure the site hasn’t been disturbed.’

‘Understood and will try.’

There were only two Surveillance Teams these days, and they worked with both Sussex and Surrey police forces. And they were kept busy. Both detectives knew they’d be lucky to get one.

Grace stood up. ‘OK, I’m going to go out to my car, for privacy, and call Cleo. I think I’m ready.’

Branson took his hand in his and crushed it. ‘Good luck, mate. I’m thinking of you all.’

Grace turned away, unable to face him, not wanting him to see his tears again.