‘Oh, I get it, Mrs Mason.’ I push back my chair. ‘Thank you for bringing this to our attention. Could I ask you to remain here for a little while, in case we have other questions? DS Quinn will get you some tea.’
‘I don’t want your tea. I told you before. I don’t like it.’
‘Cold drink?’ says Quinn. ‘Diet Coke?’
She throws him a venomous look. ‘I’ll have fizzy water.’
* * *
—
Outside, in the corridor, I lean heavily against the wall.
‘You OK, boss?’
‘I knew that bloke was a wanker, but Christ almighty.’
‘Look on the bright side: it might get us our warrant – access to his computer. Even if it’s not enough for an arrest.’
But I’m not so sanguine. ‘I suspect we’ll need more than the card for that. But there’s no harm asking. Let’s hope we get a magistrate with an eight-year-old daughter.’
‘OK, I’m on it.’
He’s about to go when I call him back. ‘Tell me, if Mason had gone straight home from Witney, rather than “driving around” as he claims, how long do you think it would have taken him to get there?’
Quinn considers. ‘That time of day – half an hour, forty minutes tops.’
‘So it’s possible he got home at exactly the moment Sharon Mason was out.’
Quinn frowns. ‘I guess so. Doesn’t leave much time, though. To kill the girl, get rid of the body and be gone before his wife gets back.’
‘But what if that’s not what happened? What if Sharon came back and found them together – found him actually doing something to Daisy? There’s a huge row, and somewhere, in the middle of it, Daisy gets killed. Accident or rage, the result’s the same.’
‘So either one of them could have actually killed her?’
‘If that’s really the scenario, then yes.’
‘But it’s Barry who got rid of the body?’
I nod. ‘I’m guessing so. Can’t see Sharon doing it, can you? Not in those bloody shoes of hers, anyway.’
‘So all this happened between 5.30 when Mason got home and – what? – six-ish?’
‘Half six at the latest, since they were expecting people by then. The question is how far he could have driven and still got back in time for that. Somewhere he could have buried the body or hidden it well enough that no one’s found it yet. But remember, he’s a builder – he has his own sites, and he’d know about others – jobs he’d bid for. Empty building plots with big holes in the ground just waiting to be filled.’
Quinn’s still processing all this. ‘But if what you say is right, why didn’t they just claim the girl had been abducted on her way home from school? Why go through all that pantomime with the party?’
‘Because they couldn’t be sure someone hadn’t seen Daisy on the estate that afternoon. We know now that didn’t happen. But neither of the Masons knew that – she could have talked to a neighbour, stopped to pet a dog – ’
‘But it was a complete fluke no one realized she was missing hours earlier – right at the start of the party. The whole thing was the most colossal risk.’
‘Murder always is,’ I say drily. ‘Especially when it isn’t planned. And what other choice did they have?’
‘But in that case, why did she shop him now? It would have been much harder to break them if they’d stuck to the same story. Even Sharon Mason must have realized that.’
‘I think we have Amy Cathcart to thank for that. She was the last straw. Think about it from Sharon’s point of view – she’s been telling lie after lie to cover up for Barry and now she finds out he’s been cheating on her for months. Right now, revenge is all that matters. I don’t think she realizes how much danger she’s put herself in.’
‘So do we arrest her?’
‘No, we can’t, not yet. All we have is guesswork. Let’s give her some rope – make her think she’s succeeded in throwing all the blame on Barry. I’m betting she’ll make more mistakes.’
‘I’ll get on to the search team – see if there’s anywhere we could have missed that’s within an hour’s range of the house. Though with a car, and that much time, we’re talking a pretty big area.’
‘I know. But that’s where we are. And when you’ve done that, get everyone in the incident room in an hour.’
‘Where will you be?’
‘Talking to Leo. If anyone knows what happened that day, he does.’
*
In the family room, Gislingham is as happy as a pig in shit. Though to be fair, Leo appears to be enjoying himself too – when I push open the door they’re watching goals from Chelsea’s 2015 winning season on the DC’s iPhone.
‘Did you see that pass?’ says Gislingham excitedly as tinny cheering comes from the mobile. ‘Fàbregas was brilliant in that game.’
He looks up and sees me. ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were there, boss.’
‘How are you, Leo?’ I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down. ‘DC Gislingham been keeping you entertained?’
Leo blushes and looks down. Then he nods.
‘You want to show me – that goal you were both just looking at?’
Leo comes over and stands next to me. It takes him a moment or two to reset the video, but then we go through the goal again. The pass, the back heel, the pass.
‘Do you remember,’ I say casually, ‘when you were here last time, and you told me what happened the day Daisy disappeared?’
He nods, his thumbs speeding over the touchscreen. He clearly has a knack for these things – it took me weeks to master mine. It was Jake who set it up for me in the end. Smiling and giving me that why-are-parents-so-useless look. I didn’t mind being useless with phones; I just wish I hadn’t been so useless in the ways that really mattered.
I take a deep breath. ‘You said that you got home and went up to your room. Did you see your dad that afternoon?’
He slides a glance at me. ‘No. He came in later.’
‘And if he’d come in before that, you’d have known? You’d definitely have heard if someone came in the house?’
A shrug.
‘Did you hear your mum go out?’
He shakes his head. ‘I had my headphones on.’
‘But you’re sure Daisy was in her bedroom?’
It’s hot in here and he pushes up his sleeves, almost without thinking. ‘The music was on.’
‘So just to be sure I’m clear, you were in your own room all the time till the party, with your headphones on. And you didn’t hear your mum go out, or anyone come in, or any other loud noises?’
‘I was annoyed with Daisy. She ran away.’
‘Yes, I remember. OK, Leo, I’ll leave you to talk some more with DC Gislingham. Your mum is helping us with some things, so it may be a while before she can come and get you. Are you all right staying here a bit longer?’
But I’m not sure he even hears me. He’s on to the next goal.
Gislingham follows me out and pulls the door to.
‘Boss,’ he says, keeping his voice low, ‘I’ve been watching him for half an hour now and I have to tell you, I’m not sure that kid’s all there. I think he might be, you know, autistic or something.’
‘I don’t think it’s that,’ I say slowly. ‘But I agree with you. From what I just saw, something’s very wrong.’
*
At Bishop Christopher’s the corridors ring with the emptiness of the end of term. One or two teachers are still on-site, tidying and taking posters down ready for a new start in September, but otherwise the building is eerily empty. In the caretaker’s office at the back, Andrew Baxter has set up a rackety fan, and is sitting in front of the computer screen still scrolling through the footage from the school gate. His shirt is sticking to the back of the chair and he’s already had two texts from his wife asking when he’s going to be home. But he keeps telling himself, just one more file, just one more file. And sometimes, that sort of diligence is more than its own reward. He sits forward suddenly. Replays. Replays again. Then gets out his mobile and makes a call.
‘Boss? I’m at the school. I think you should see this. I think the goalposts may just have moved. Again.’
*
14.06
Scott Sullivan @SnapHappyWarrior
Just saw the news and want to say to all the prats out there – you were wrong, even the fuckwit police suspect the parents now #DaisyMason
14.08
Annabel White @TherealAnnabelWyte
Add a to your avatar to show your support and fight back against the trolls #DaisyChain #FindDaisy