The Danger Within

Twenty-Seven

Vogel contacted the NDDH first thing in the morning to check on Jason Patel’s condition, and when he could be interviewed again.

He was told by the senior nursing officer in charge of IC that Patel was ‘comfortable’, and that he was due to be examined again by the doctors later that morning.

‘In view of last night’s setback, Mr Vogel, we would much prefer you to wait until after that before visiting Mr Patel again,’ said the nursing officer.

Vogel agreed. He didn’t feel he had any choice. In any case there was little point in reinterviewing Patel until he was in a considerably stronger state than he had been the first time.

Saslow picked up Vogel at his Airbnb at seven thirty a.m. The incident room at Bideford police station was to be their first stop. It was an unseasonably wet and windy Monday. Vogel always thought bad weather was appropriate for a Monday. Although, as a police officer the days of the week had never had much influence on his working hours. Particularly during a murder investigation.

‘How did you sleep, boss?’ Saslow asked, by way of greeting.

‘Not good,’ replied Vogel. ‘I’ve been going over this case in my head all night. Or what there is of it...’

‘Me too, boss. Bit of a puzzle, isn’t it.’

‘Certainly is, Saslow. What looked at first like a straightforward domestic, an all too familiar family tragedy, is taking us off in all manner of directions.’

The two officers had just arrived at the Bideford incident room, and were exchanging notes with DI Peters, when the team who were still door-stepping the areas around St Anne’s Avenue called in. They had just caught up with a neighbour of the Quinns who had been out on Saturday night, and away visiting her daughter all the previous day.

She had provided information which caused Vogel to decide that a second formal interview with Gregory Quinn should be delayed no longer.

‘Send a pair of uniforms to bring him in straight away,’ Vogel told Peters. ‘Make sure they take Morag Docherty with them too. Somebody has to babysit Gill now. And tell them this time we’re not asking, we’re telling. I don’t want Quinn arrested yet, but if he doesn’t cooperate then that’s what they must do.’

Greg Quinn did cooperate. Albeit with some reluctance. But once again he had not requested legal representation. And he was already sitting in the interview room DI Peters had set up at Bideford nick when Vogel and Saslow entered an hour or so later.

As soon as they walked in he stood up.

‘I hope you’ve got a very good reason for having me brought here, Mr Vogel,’ he said. ‘My mother needs me. She’s still in shock. I should be with her.’

‘You’re here because I have more questions for you, Greg,’ Vogel began. ‘Important questions that cannot be avoided. Some of them I shall be asking for the second or even the third time. And I want you to think very carefully indeed before you answer. Because I must warn you that lying to a police officer is a criminal offence. You could be charged with perverting the course of justice.’

Greg sat down with a bump. Hs face had acquired a high colour. He didn’t say anything.

‘So, Greg, when did you last see your father?’ asked the DCI.

Greg answered without hesitation.

‘I told you. About a month ago. And then only for a brief time.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Yes. Of course I am.’

‘All right. When did you last visit your family home?’

‘I told you that, too. Three weeks or so ago, when I knew Dad was at work.’

‘Are quite sure you didn’t go there on Saturday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Absolutely sure?’

‘Yes. Of course, I’m sure. What is this?’

‘Greg, we have a witness who saw your van parked at the family home on Saturday afternoon.’

‘What? No. You can’t have. Nobody could have seen...’

Greg Quinn stopped abruptly.

‘Nobody could have seen what, Greg?’

‘Nothing. I mean, they’ve got it wrong. They can’t have seen it.’

‘Do you mean that nobody could have seen your van where it was parked, or rather, that you thought nobody could see it.’

‘No. I didn’t mean that. Not at all. I mean, that it wasn’t there. Whoever told you it was has made a mistake.’

‘Do you think your parents’ immediate neighbours would recognize your van?’

‘Maybe. I mean, I’m not sure. I told you. I hardly ever go there.’

‘But we understand that you have done work for at least one of the neighbours. Mrs Jane Harvey. Is that not so?’

‘Uh yes. I have.’

‘Quite a big job, wasn’t it? Weren’t you one of the team that built a kitchen extension for her?’

‘Well, yes. It was a couple of years ago though.’

‘How long were you working at Mrs Harvey’s house?’

‘I’m not sure. Five or six weeks maybe.’

‘Do you still drive the same van?’

‘Yes. Well, most of the time.’

‘And it’s a van supplied by your employer, I understand, bright orange with the company name and logo on the side in black and purple. It’s very distinctive, isn’t it?’

‘Well yes, I suppose so...’

‘Indeed. So, do you not think that if Mrs Harvey saw that van, she would have recognized it and known that it was yours?’

‘My boss drives a van that’s the same.’

‘Does he? We will have to ask him, then, if he was parked outside your parent’s house on Saturday. But I think it’s unlikely that he was, don’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t know...’

Gregory Quinn paused. He seemed to be thinking hard.

‘Look. I almost always park at the back,’ he said eventually. ‘There’s a parking area and two garages which are completely walled in. It’s a high wall. If I was parked there yesterday, and I’m telling you I wasn’t, nobody would have been able to see my van anyway. Not Mrs Harvey, or any of the neighbours. They almost certainly wouldn’t even see anybody driving into our place either, because my parents’ house is tucked away at the top of the back lane.’

‘Do you like dogs, Greg?’ asked Vogel abruptly.

‘What?’

Greg Quinn looked completely wrong-footed. Which, of course, had been Vogel’s intention.

‘You don’t have a dog, do you?’ Vogel continued, without waiting for Greg Quinn to reply to his first question.

Quinn shook his head, seeming totally bewildered now.

‘Did you perhaps have one when you were growing up?’

Quinn shook his head again.

‘Mrs Harvey has a dog, a small black poodle. Pretty little thing, I believe. Presumably you know that, don’t you?’

‘Y-yes,’ stumbled Quinn. ‘But what’s that got to do with anything, for God’s sake?’

‘Barnaby, his name is. He’s one of those dogs that’s ball crazy. Mrs Harvey often throws balls for him in her garden. She uses one of those plastic ball-throw things dogs love that make the ball go further. Occasionally they go a bit too far. Yesterday afternoon Mrs Harvey accidentally threw one a lot higher and further than she meant to, and it flew over the wall which surrounds your family’s parking area. She’d done it before, though not very often. So she went out of her back door and walked around. There’s a little driveway, isn’t there, with double gates across, which leads to your parking area? They were standing open, which I understand is usual. So she went in to pick up Barnaby’s ball. She has told us there were three vehicles parked there. Your mother’s old MG. Your father’s Lexus, and your van...’

‘She’s made a mistake. I just said. I wasn’t there.’

‘Do you expect us to believe that, Greg?’

‘I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. Anyway, it’s just her word against mine. It doesn’t prove anything, does it?’

Vogel was very afraid that Greg Quinn might be right about that, and was considering which way to best continue the interview when his phone, laid on the table beside him, flashed. It was Perkins. And Perkins knew his senior officer was in the process of interviewing Greg Quinn. Vogel answered the call, partly because under those circumstances Perkins wouldn’t be calling unless it was urgent and almost certainly relevant to the current interview, and partly to give himself time to contemplate his next move.

The call lasted just a couple of minutes, during which Saslow halted the video recording. Vogel barely spoke, and maintained eye contact with Greg Quinn throughout — until the younger man could stand it no longer and looked away.

After ending the call Vogel remained silent for a few seconds more before instructing Saslow to restart the video, and addressing Greg again.

‘CSI have finally found your mother’s phone, Greg,’ he remarked casually.

He thought Quinn flinched, but wasn’t entirely sure. It may just have been an involuntary nervous twitch.

‘There are a number of voice messages on it which appear to be from you, recorded on Saturday, the first just after eleven a.m., and several texts. But then you know that, don’t you?’

Quinn shrugged.

‘It seems you had arranged to meet your mother at the local Morrisons supermarket, is that so?’

‘Uh yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us about this yesterday?’

‘Well, in the end we didn’t meet, so I didn’t think it was important.’

‘Is this something you and your mother do regularly?’

‘Most Saturdays, yes. We do our shopping at the same time, then go to the café.’

‘I see. But on this occasion your mother didn’t turn up, isn’t that right? So did you not think that might be significant on the day your father was murdered?’

‘I, uh, I didn’t really think about that.’

‘I see. Was it not unusual then?’

‘Well, yes. It was quite unusual. Although...’

Again Greg Quinn didn’t finish the sentence he had begun.

‘Although what?’

Greg sighed. ‘All right. You know about my father now. What a bastard he was. He’d always been a control freak. And he had Mum right under his thumb. She was completely dominated by him. If he decided for some reason that he didn’t want her to go shopping, or whatever it might be, then he’d make sure she didn’t. And that was that. She couldn’t do anything about it, and I was always under strict instructions not to interfere.’

‘I see. So you weren’t surprised when she didn’t turn up on Saturday morning?’

‘No. Not that surprised. A bit worried about her. I always worry about Mum. And what Dad might be doing. I didn’t know he was actually hurting her though, not physically. I told you that yesterday, Mr Vogel. And I swear it’s the truth. If I had known, I would have done something about it, whatever Mum said.’

‘Are you sure you didn’t do something about it?’

‘Of course I’m sure. What are you accusing me of? I never touched my father. I didn’t go anywhere near him.’

‘Greg, an officer has listened to the messages on your mother’s phone and read her texts. At two forty-five p.m. you texted saying you’d had enough. That you were going around to the St Anne’s Avenue house. Isn’t that right?’

The young man shrugged.

‘Greg, I need you to answer the question,’ continued Vogel.

‘I might have done.’

‘There’s no might about it, Greg,’ said Vogel. ‘I’ve just told you. We have your mother’s phone. And I think I’ve now been forwarded the appropriate messages.’

The DCI consulted his own phone and began to read. ‘“I know what’s happening. He’s keeping you in the house again. It’s time you stopped that bastard ruining your life, and if you won’t I will. I’m coming straight round. I’m on my way.” That is one of the messages you sent, the last one, in fact. Perhaps you would like to save us all a lot of trouble and confirm that you sent this text?’

‘Look, OK, yes, that’s what I said,’ admitted Greg. ‘It doesn’t mean I actually went round though. It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Perhaps not. It’s circumstantial evidence, of course. But coupled with your van being spotted by a witness, I think it’s reasonable to conclude that you were at your parents’ house on Saturday afternoon, is that not the case?’

Quinn shrugged again.

‘Greg, for your own sake you really should cooperate. There is more, of course. We have established that you phoned and texted your mother several times from just after eleven a.m.—’

‘I told you, I was worried,’ Quinn interrupted.

‘But after the two forty-five p.m. text, when you told your mother you were going around to the family house, you did not call or text her at all. Not once. And we couldn’t raise you until seven o’clock yesterday morning. It seems to me that something happened to stop you trying to call your mum. Perhaps to stop you worrying about her? Is that not so?’

‘Look, Mum texted me, from a borrowed phone. That’s what stopped me calling or messaging her again. She said she was with a friend from school, that she’d finally managed to get out of the house, and she’d be staying away from home until Dad had had time to cool down. She said not to call her phone again because he’d taken it from her. That wasn’t particularly unusual either. She said she’d call me when she could. And I wasn’t to worry.’

‘I see. Could I see your phone please, Greg.’

Quinn handed it over with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

Vogel scrolled down the list of messages, noticing the several Greg had sent to his mother during the course of the morning and early afternoon.

There was just one incoming message from an unnamed mobile number which indeed appeared to be from Gill, and its content was almost exactly as Greg had just recounted.

Vogel held up the phone towards Greg and pointed at it.

‘So this is the message from your mother, on a borrowed phone, yes?’

Greg agreed that it was.

‘Do you recognize the number?’

‘No.’

‘So you don’t know who your mother was with?’

‘No.’

Vogel made a quick note of the number.

‘OK, Greg,’ he continued. ‘This text was not sent until four forty-seven p.m. You’d been calling and texting your mother repeatedly...’ Vogel glanced at the phone again. ‘About every half hour until two forty-five p.m. But then you let more than two hours pass without trying to contact her. And, after she texted you from her friend’s phone, you then made no attempt to contact her again, perhaps to try to speak to her, even though you have already described how worried you were about her. Why was that?’

‘I didn’t want to make matters worse.’

‘But we couldn’t get in touch with you all night. Your phone seemed to be switched off. It wasn’t just that you weren’t picking up to an unknown number, or to us. Surely if you were so worried about your mother you would make sure you were able to answer her if she called again?’

‘Look, I was fed up and upset. I drove to my mate’s in Torrington, and we went out drinking. We got stuck in. I was bladdered. That’s why I stayed over with him. I didn’t even know my phone was switched off.’

‘Greg, our medical experts tell us that your father died between approximately three and five p.m. on Saturday. This fits in rather well with the visit you told your mother you were about to make. Wouldn’t you agree, Greg?’

‘I’m not agreeing with anything.’

‘I’m going to say this once more, Greg. I really would advise you to cooperate with us. We are building quite a case against you.’

This time Greg Quinn said nothing at all.

‘All right,’ said Vogel eventually. ‘I’m going to suspend this interview, and you are free to go, Greg. But we shall be continuing to investigate you. And I must warn you that we are likely to be in touch again very soon, and that we are now treating you as a person of interest in this inquiry.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means what it says. You are of interest to us in the pursuance of this inquiry.’

‘Right. But I can leave now, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll get back to my mother, then, if that’s all right by you, Mr Vogel,’ said Greg. ‘I’m still more worried about her well-being than anything else. Only, that wouldn’t concern you, would it?’

‘Good morning, Greg,’ said Vogel.

The uniform on sentry duty escorted Greg from the room. As soon as he had gone Vogel turned to Saslow.

‘Get Perkins after him, Dawn, and arrange back up with DI Peters,’ he said. ‘I want to know that young man’s every movement.’

Vogel immediately dialled the number he had copied from Gregory Quinn’s phone. It appeared to be out of service. He then checked the phone number he had jotted down against a number saved to his own phone. They didn’t match. Saslow returned just as he finished doing so.

‘I thought the number Gill texted Greg from would probably turn out to be Helen Harris’,’ Vogel remarked. ‘That would further back up her alibi, too. But it isn’t. And there’s no response at all from it at the moment.’

‘Well, the phone could belong to someone else at the House, couldn’t it, boss?’ offered Saslow. ‘Another staff member, or one of the other people sheltering there. And it could be a burner that’s run out of juice.’

‘Yes, it could be all of those things. But clearly it was in service yesterday, and if Gill used a phone unconnected with someone at the House, that offers up all sorts of other possibilities. For a start it indicates that she may not have been there all day, after all. I think we should pay another visit to Helen’s House.’

‘I agree, boss. I mean, if Gill Quinn didn’t have that cast-iron alibi she would still be our principal suspect, wouldn’t she?’

‘Yes, probably. The attack on Thomas Quinn’s partner presents all sorts of intriguing possibilities and, at the very least, it looks like Greg has been lying to us. But yes, without that alibi Gill would still be first in the frame, particularly now we know about the terrible abuse she has suffered at Thomas’ hands. It’s certainly an alibi we need to be absolutely sure of.’

‘The evidence is stacking up against Greg, though, isn’t it? And he makes no secret of how much he loathed his father.’

‘Indeed. Although, from what we’ve learned today, Saslow, I don’t blame him.’

‘I thought you might arrest him, boss.’

‘Yeah. I considered it. But Quinn is quite right. Everything is circumstantial. And we certainly haven’t got enough to charge him. I’m actually hoping he may further incriminate himself. Assuming he’s guilty, of course.’

‘If you’d arrested him, though, we could search his home and his van.’

‘Yes. And taking a watching brief is always risky. But as long as we make sure he isn’t busily disposing of any evidence, I think it’s a risk worth taking. Meanwhile let’s see what Helen Harris has to say...’