Need You Dead

73 Wednesday 27 April

Once again, as they had done yesterday, Roy Grace and Glenn Branson sat in the observation room, watching the live feed from the interview room. Seymour Darling was still in custody as a result of a superintendent’s authorization.

Batchelor and Exton ran through the formal interview procedures with Darling and his solicitor. Darling spoke meekly, like a lost soul, his voice barely a whisper. Very different from the last time he had been in this room.

Batchelor reminded him that he was still under caution and said, ‘Do you understand that, Mr Darling?’

‘Yes I do.’ He shot a baleful glance at Ishack, who gave no reaction, then continued. ‘I’m not going to deny killing my wife, who provoked me beyond — beyond — all reasonable endurance. But your accusations against me for killing Lorna Belling are wrong. I didn’t kill her, I really didn’t. You have to believe me.’

‘Why should we believe you?’ Batchelor asked. ‘You were angry at her because you felt she had screwed you financially over the sale of a motor car and you confronted her. We already know you have a history of violence — particularly against women.’

‘I don’t need this, I’m in enough shit as it is.’

‘Mr Darling,’ Batchelor said, ‘whatever happens in your own case, you are a witness in our investigation of Lorna Belling’s death, and after this interview we have some CCTV footage we’d like you to look at. It may help you to cooperate.’

‘I’ve already told you she had a lover. Isn’t he someone you should be looking at? He’s the man who killed her.’

‘The description Darling gave when he was previously interviewed certainly fits Kipp Brown,’ Grace replied, keeping his voice low. The observation room was soundproofed and it would be impossible for anyone in the interview room to hear them even if they were shouting at the top of their voices, but Grace always found himself talking in a hushed tone in here.

‘What makes you so certain of that, Mr Darling?’ Exton asked, gently.

‘I told you before, in an earlier interview, that I’d seen this matt-black Porsche driving around, like it was looking for a parking space, and then a short while later, up in her window, I saw them embracing.’

‘The man you told us previously looked like James Bond?’ Batchelor asked.

‘I said he had James Bond’s build. Tall, lean, good posture.’

‘Is there anything else you can tell us about this man, Mr Darling?’ Batchelor pressed. ‘Did you catch sight of him in the car? Getting out of the car?’

Darling shook his head.

‘So is there anything else you can think of, beyond what you told us on Sunday, that makes you link the driver of this Porsche to the man you saw with Mrs Belling?’ Exton asked.

Darling shrugged. ‘Flash personalities and timing. A hunch, right?’

‘Did you get any letters or digits of the Porsche’s registration plate?’ DS Exton asked him.

‘I’m afraid not — I’m not a detective,’ he sneered. ‘But there is something else,’ Darling said, suddenly raising a pointed finger in the air. Then he gave a smug smile and fell silent.

‘Something else?’ Batchelor asked. ‘Would you like to tell us?’

There was a brief pause as Darling was consulted by his solicitor. They conversed in whispers, which neither Grace nor Branson could hear.

Darling nodded. ‘During the time I stood vigil outside that bitch’s flat, there was another man who was a visitor to the property. On the afternoon — or evening — you are accusing me of killing her, he visited her twice. And if you want to know the truth, Detective Inspector Batchelor, the way he presented himself, I thought he was one of yours.’

‘Mine?’

‘A cop.’