Go Not Gently (Staincliffe) - страница 50

I dropped things off at home and gathered up my library books.

Spent a delicious hour browsing. Came away with a Frances Fyfield, a Walter Mosley, a James Lee Burke and the latest Minette Walters – well, the latest to reach the library shelves. Bliss. It was five when I got back home.

The police were waiting to see me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I felt guilty. They knew I’d taken the tablets. Homelea had complained about me.

I took the police officers into the kitchen. Ray made himself scarce and went to join the children in the lounge.

There were two of them, plainclothes. A thick-set man with blue-black hair and very white skin, and a younger woman with a dark brown ponytail and a horsy face.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Crawshaw,’ said the man, ‘and this is Detective Sergeant Bell.’

She flipped open her notepad. He established my name, address and occupation. Not a twitch when I said I was a private investigator.

‘What’s it all about?’ I asked.

‘We’re investigating a serious crime and we think you may be able to help us with our enquiries. We’d like to ask you a few questions.’

He’d obviously done the public relations training. Lots of eye contact, a direct approach yet still managing to ignore my question.

‘Do you know a Mr James Achebe?’

Oh, no. My guts clenched. Something was terribly wrong. A serious crime, they’d said.

‘Yes, he’s… he was a client.’

‘When was this?’

‘I finished that job last week.’

‘And what was the nature of the work you did for him?’

‘I guarantee confidentiality to my clients.’

‘Yes, but in this situation,’ he snapped, momentarily losing it. Then he reeled back in the modern management style. ‘I’m sure you appreciate that there are certain situations where the right of client confidentiality no longer takes precedence.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but seeing as I don’t know what this situation is, what this serious crime is or who might have committed it I’m hardly in a position to judge really, am I?’

He sighed briskly. Tried another approach. ‘When did you last see Mr Achebe?’

I thought back. ‘Thursday last week.’

‘A week yesterday,’ he glanced at his watch and did the arithmetic, ‘the twenty-fourth?’ I could never do that. I hadn’t got a watch with a date on for a start.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve not seen him since?’

‘No.’

‘Nor spoken to him on the phone?’

‘No.’

‘Has he communicated with you in any way? Sent letters, left messages?’

‘No, nothing.’ I tried to keep the defensive note from my voice but I was beginning to feel under suspicion myself.

Ray appeared at the kitchen door, the kids leaning close to him. Eyes agog at the police in the kitchen.