Snapshot

41

Raymond Lowry’s wife was a small, discouraged-looking woman with drawn features. ‘It was more verbal than physical,’ she said. She paused. ‘Ray had anger-management issues.’

She used the term awkwardly. ‘Is that the expression Janine McQuarrie used?’ asked Challis.

Deborah Lowry shifted about in consent. They were in a CIU interview room overlooking the carpark. Ellen leaned forward and touched the woman’s wrist. ‘You say he was more verbal than physical, meaning he did sometimes hit you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you sought counselling.’

‘I wish I hadn’t!’

‘Why?’

‘I didn’t know what she was like!’

‘Janine McQuarrie?’

‘She went right off, said men like Ray needed to pay, a simple rap over the knuckles in court isn’t enough, they have to be confronted.’

‘And she confronted your husband.’

‘She could have got me killed doing that! He came storming home afterwards, slapped me around, said he’d kill me, kill her.’

Challis sat back in the plastic chair and folded his arms. ‘Is he capable of killing someone? Do you think he did it?’

Deborah Lowry shrugged, looked sulky, as if her choice of husband reflected badly on her character.

‘You were concerned enough to come here today and make a statement,’ said Ellen encouragingly.

‘Ray’s got a terrible temper. Who knows what he’s capable of? Ever since he left the Navy he’s been kind of drifting. His mobile phone business is struggling. He…’ she finished, gesturing helplessly.

When she was gone, Challis called Dominic O’Brien at Bayside Counselling, who refused to hand over Janine McQuarrie’s file on Deborah Lowry. ‘Mrs Lowry is now my client, Inspector.’

‘Ah.’

O’Brien pressed home his advantage with a tone of portly satisfaction. ‘And I do not intend to reveal my own assessment of her.’

Challis sighed irritably. The irritation apparently communicated itself to O’Brien, who went on to say, ‘However it is my judgment that Mrs Lowry is not a threat to herself, or anyone or anything else. Look elsewhere for your murderer, Inspector.’

At two o’clock that afternoon, Raymond Lowry was brought in for questioning. Ellen led by saying, ‘You used to be in the Navy, Mr Lowry.’

Lowry examined his nails, a picture of boredom. ‘So?’

‘You travelled widely, ending up at the base near Waterloo. You liked the area, and when you left the Navy you decided to settle here with your wife.’

‘So?’ repeated Lowry, glancing at Challis as if to say that he knew where Ellen was getting her information from.

‘A good place to raise a family and start a business.’

Lowry stared at her.

‘But your wife doesn’t live with you any more, does she?’

Challis, seated to one side of the interview room as if merely an observer while Ellen Destry asked the questions, saw Lowry’s jaw tighten. He took in the man’s powerful build, large teeth bared in a mocking smile, and small ears tight to the head. Ex-Navy, now a shopkeeper who sold mobile phones: what disappointments drove him?

Challis slid his gaze sideways to meet Ellen’s and gave her a tiny nod. The tape machine was running. Lowry hadn’t requested a lawyer yet.

‘You and your wife had marriage difficulties, Mr Lowry?’ Ellen asked.

Full of fake concern, and Lowry wasn’t buying it. ‘Nothing unusual about that.’

‘Of course not. But not everyone seeks counselling from a psychologist.’

It was stuffy in the little room and Lowry had hung his polar fleece jacket on the back of his chair. He wore jeans and a V-necked cotton sweater over a white T-shirt. Under it all he was bulky from steroids or the gym. He frowned. ‘What are you on about?’

‘Your wife saw a psychologist, Mr Lowry. Didn’t you know that?’

He shrugged. ‘The Navy sent me to three bases in two years. That was disruptive. Plus she was scared I’d be sent to the Gulf and come back in a body bag.’ Another shrug. ‘Nothing to be ashamed about. That’s why the Navy has a counselling service.’

‘I’m not talking about the past, I’m talking about now, this past year. And I’m not talking about the Navy’s psychologists. I’m talking about Janine McQuarrie.’

Challis watched Lowry scowl. ‘I suppose my wife told you all about it.’

‘It doesn’t matter how we know. What matters is your response. You said, and I quote, “I could kill the bitch.” Do you remember saying that, Mr Lowry?’

‘Yep.’

‘Well, did you carry it out?’

‘Nope.’

He was abrupt, unruffled, contemptuous. Challis leaned forward. ‘You were angry. We can understand that.’

‘If I was to murder anyone it would be my wife.’

‘Shoot her in the head like you shot Janine McQuarrie,’ Challis said. ‘We’re searching your house and business, Ray. Are we going to find the gun you used?’

‘You were questioning me on Tuesday morning. How can I be in two places at once?’

‘So, who did you hire?’

‘Look, am I under arrest?’

‘No.’

‘Do I need a lawyer?’

‘I don’t know-do you think you need one?’

Lowry continued to sit impassively. Eventually he said, ‘I’ll humour you for the time being.’

Ellen leaned forward and said, ‘Janine McQuarrie tried to empower your wife, didn’t she? And you didn’t like it.’

‘Doesn’t mean I killed her.’

‘But it was more than that, wasn’t it, Ray?’ said Challis, toying with his pen. ‘Janine McQuarrie made contact with you. She confronted you.’

Raymond Lowry shrugged indifferently. Challis slammed the flat of his hand on the table. ‘She confronted you, Ray.’

Lowry was unruffled. ‘So?’

‘Didn’t that upset you?’

‘Sure. But I didn’t kill her and you can’t prove I did.’

Challis sat back and folded his arms. ‘We’re the first to admit that she wasn’t very well liked,’ he said reasonably. ‘In fact, many loathed her. She liked to confront people, particularly men. We can understand why you’d want to punish her, get even with her. Tell us, Ray: you’ll feel better.’

Lowry sighed, as though they were slow and needed the obvious pointed out to them. ‘You’re describing someone losing it, flipping out, acting in the heat of the moment. Yeah, I admit, I’ve got a temper. But as I understand it, the bitch was shot dead by contract killers, which doesn’t sound like heat of the moment to me.’

He gave them his arid smile.

‘Maybe you got very calm and hired those killers, Mr Lowry.’

‘How would I go about doing that?’

‘You own a mobile phone shop,’ Challis said. ‘Is that how you kept in contact? You used cloned, throwaway phones to cover your tracks?’

‘You thought you’d got away with it, too,’ Ellen said, ‘but we received an anonymous call from someone who knew quite a bit about the murder.’

Challis watched Lowry with interest. Lowry merely shrugged.

‘Was that anonymous caller you, Mr Lowry?’

Lowry glanced at his watch indifferently. ‘If I’d shot her, why would I call you?’

‘Perhaps you only wanted to scare her, and things got out of hand.’

‘I wasn’t bothered by her, okay?’

‘Are you protecting someone?’

‘Like who?’

‘You hired a mate. He let you down, but you’re unwilling or afraid to tell the police about it.’

‘Will that be all?’ Lowry was saying. ‘Or should I ask for one of the duty solicitors? Perhaps he will make you see sense.’

‘He?’ Ellen asked, amused. ‘What if it’s a woman? Oh, I forgot, you have trouble relating to women, don’t you, chuckles?’

‘Believe that, if it makes you happy.’

‘Especially clever, articulate, fearless women like Janine McQuarrie.’

‘Why waste a good bullet?’ Lowry asked.