Need You Dead

46 Sunday 24 April

Grace, followed by Batchelor, stepped out of the interview room, closing the door behind them.

‘What do you think, boss?’ Batchelor asked in the corridor.

‘We know there’s been a spate of frauds around PayPal recently,’ Grace replied. ‘Mick Richards at the Economic Crimes Unit briefed me on it yesterday. Mainly Romanians involved. They bring homeless people over here, give them a chunk of change, get them to open bank accounts then send them home with a nice lump sum. They track eBay and Gumtree transactions, spot a transaction such as this one with Lorna Belling’s car, upload malware and give the purchaser a fake PayPal account number. The purchaser — in this case Mr Darling — pays the money in and, whoosh, it’s gone. Washed through an account and immediately transferred abroad. All his body language says he’s telling the truth about the purchase. He’s a victim of cybercrime fraud, in my view.’

‘Where does that leave us?’

‘With one very angry man.’

‘Angry enough to kill her? Judging from his past form?’

‘Let’s go back in and see what we can find out.’

They entered the interview room again and sat back down.

Pressing the record button on the control unit, Roy Grace said, ‘Interview with Seymour Rodney Darling recommenced at 9.25 a.m.’ He turned to the suspect and reminded him he was still under caution, then continued. ‘Mr Darling, can you tell us where you were on the afternoon and evening of Wednesday, April 20th?’

Darling’s eyes went to his left. That indicated to Grace the man was constructing a lie. ‘I was working that day. In the afternoon I went to measure up for a fencing quote for a customer in Hurstpierpoint.’

‘Can you let me have the customer’s name and address?’

Hesitantly. ‘Yes. Stuart Dwyer — at West Point Lodge, Church Lane.’

‘Mr Dwyer could verify that?’ Grace asked.

Hesitantly again. ‘Yes.’

‘And after that?’

‘I went home. The wife and I had a row.’ He shrugged, seeing the intent stares of the two detectives. ‘The medications she’s on make her very edgy. I went out, took the dog for a long walk.’

‘Where?’

‘Up on the Downs.’

‘Did anyone see you — could anyone verify that, Mr Darling?’ Batchelor asked.

‘I didn’t see anyone.’

‘What time did you leave the house and return?’ Grace watched his face intently.

‘I left about five — I got back around nine p.m.’

‘A four-hour walk?’

‘I often go for long walks.’

Grace noticed how uncomfortable he looked. ‘Do you and your wife row frequently?’

‘We rowed all the time before her diagnosis. I’ve been trying to be understanding since. But —’ He fell silent.

‘But?’ Batchelor prompted.

Darling looked each of them in the eye, in turn. ‘Just because someone has terminal cancer, it doesn’t mean they’re any less of a fucking bitch than they were before.’

Doris Ishack gave him a cautioning stare, then turned to the detectives. ‘You need to understand my client is under a lot of stress at the moment.’

‘I imagine Lorna Belling found being murdered quite stressful, too,’ Grace retorted. He looked at Darling. ‘I am very sorry to hear about your wife’s circumstances.’

‘Is that right?’ Darling said, bitterly. ‘Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you are going to lose your wife?’

‘I can only try to imagine.’

‘Then try a bit sodding harder.’

Ignoring this last outburst, Grace said, ‘I’d like you to think back to Wednesday night very hard. Are you absolutely sure you went straight home after your walk on the Downs?’

‘Yes.’

‘What was the route you took on this walk?’

‘Is this relevant?’ the solicitor asked.

‘It is.’ Grace looked at Darling.

‘From where we live, it’s a few minutes to the tracks of the old railway line that used to run from Aldrington Halt up to the Dyke. I took the dog there — it’s a safe place to let him off the lead.’

‘I used to live in Hangleton some years ago,’ Grace said. ‘I know that route. You walk through beautiful countryside, with great views on a fine day to the south, of Brighton and Hove and Shoreham.’

Darling nodded agreement.

‘To get up to the Dyke and back would take about ninety minutes, from memory, although I may be a little rusty. It was some years ago,’ Grace went on, ignoring Batchelor, who was giving him a strange look.

‘If you went straight up and back down, yes,’ Darling said.

‘But of course it would be longer if you carried on and went down into the village of Poynings, to the Royal Oak pub there, or even further to the village of Fulking and the Shepherd and Dog pub. Would that be correct?’

‘Yes,’ Darling said. ‘That’s exactly what I did. I went down into Fulking.’

‘Did you stop anywhere?’

‘Yes, actually, I had a pint at the Shepherd and Dog.’

‘Did you talk to anyone in the pub? Is there someone who would remember you were there?’

‘I had Shane, the dog, with me, couldn’t take him inside. So no, I didn’t talk to anyone. Got my pint and went straight back outside.’

‘Did you ask for a bowl of water for your dog?’

‘There was a bowl outside.’

Watching his eyes intently, Grace asked, ‘Would the person who served your pint remember you?’

‘Possibly.’

‘What beer did you order?’

A moment of hesitation. ‘Harvey’s.’

‘Do you remember the person behind the bar who served you?’

‘It was very busy in there — I don’t — don’t really recall.’

Grace made another note. ‘How did you pay for your drink?’

‘Cash, I think.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes, yes it was cash.’

‘So you took your pint of Harvey’s outside, sat down with Shane, you drank your pint, and then you walked home. That accounts for those four hours?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you certain you’ve not forgotten anything, Mr Darling?’

‘I’m certain.’

‘Thank you,’ Grace said.

‘You’ve heard my client’s account,’ the solicitor said. ‘Unless you have anything further to add, I’m requesting that you release him immediately. He has a very sick wife to take care of and it is inhuman, given his domestic circumstances, to prevent him from going home to her any longer.’

‘I do have some further things to add,’ Grace said. ‘I am mindful of your client’s domestic circumstances, but my priorities lie at this moment with the victim of the brutal murder I’m investigating.’ He turned to Darling. ‘So after your walk you went home, arriving at around 9 p.m., you said. Is that correct?’

‘Correct.’

‘What happened when you came home?’

Darling shrugged. ‘I had some supper, then watched television — well — I had it watching television.’

‘What did you eat?’

‘Really, Detective Superintendent!’ the solicitor said.

‘Some leftovers in the fridge.’

‘What exactly?’ Grace asked, ignoring the solicitor.

Darling thought for some moments. ‘Lasagne — I microwaved it. Had it with a bit of salad that was in the fridge.’

‘What kind of lasagne? Meat? Fish? Vegetarian?’

‘Really, Detective Superintendent, is this important?’ the solicitor said.

‘It could be.’ He looked quizzically at his suspect.

‘Vegetarian. My wife’s on a special vegetarian-only diet for her cancer.’

‘What about the dog — Shane — did he eat?’

‘He only eats once a day, in the morning. It’s meant to be better for them.’

‘So you ate your vegetarian lasagne and salad in front of the television?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you watch?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘How would you describe your memory, Mr Darling?’

‘Describe it? What do you mean?’

‘Do you have a good memory in general?’

Darling hesitated for some moments, his eyes flicking between the two detectives, as if aware they were trying to catch him out. ‘Normal,’ he said. ‘Pretty average, I’d say.’

‘Are you sure?’ Grace pressed.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not sure I agree. I don’t think you have a very good memory at all, Mr Darling.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, when we arrested you, you couldn’t remember your own name, or date of birth, or star sign. You don’t remember who served you a pint last Wednesday. You were hesitant about how you had paid. You don’t remember what you watched on television that evening. Is there anything else about that evening that you don’t remember?’

Darling shrugged. ‘No, nothing.’

‘You arrived back home from your four-hour dog walk, ate microwaved lasagne and salad from the fridge whilst watching television? Is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you do after that?’

He hesitated, then said, ‘I went to bed.’

‘And your wife?’

‘This is very personal,’ the solicitor interrupted.

‘It is actually relevant,’ Grace replied, sternly.

Ishack turned to her client. ‘You don’t need to reply.’

‘I’m fine,’ he told her, then turned to Grace and Batchelor. ‘She was asleep in bed, as she is every night from around 9 p.m.’

‘You didn’t go out after your supper?’ Grace asked. ‘You didn’t take your dog out for a final night-time walk?’

‘No, I never do. I just let him out in the back garden to do his business.’

‘Thank you,’ Grace said, courteously. Then he leaned forward and pressed the pause button on the recording control and said, ‘The time is 9.45 a.m. Interview with Seymour Rodney Darling suspended.’

Addressing the solicitor, Grace then said, ‘DI Batchelor and I are going to step out for a short break. I’d strongly advise you to ask your client to think further about his actions and whereabouts on the afternoon and night of last Wednesday.’

The two detectives went out.