‘So what went wrong?’ said Clyde.
‘I don’t know! But something. Maybe something beyond his control. Maybe an accident. She fell, she choked …’ Marvel took a deep breath. ‘Or maybe he just snapped and killed her.’
Clyde was silent. The sound of The X Factor seeped through the living-room door. Bad singing, and an audience chanting Off! Off! Off!
Marvel said urgently, ‘But we’ll never know if we don’t have this to hold over his head. I need him in a room, under pressure, distracted by the immediate threat, and with his eye off the bigger ball. Make him slip up on one thing when he’s concentrating on hiding the other.’
‘So let me get this right,’ said Clyde slowly. ‘You’d throw me under the bus on the off-chance of getting some tiny scrap of information you don’t even know would be useful – from a psychic.’
Marvel said nothing and Clyde’s lips tightened bitterly. ‘You know, you can arrest a hundred people for a throusand stupid little things, and it will never change the fact that you’re the one who failed Edie Evans.’
Marvel bumped the super’s shoulder hard as he brushed past him on his way to the front door. As he reached for the handle, Clyde hissed, ‘You’re opening a whole can of worms, Marvel.’
Marvel yanked the door open and said, ‘I hope so.’
34
‘THIS IS A bit beneath you, isn’t it, Chief Inspector?’
‘I’m not proud,’ said Marvel. ‘I’ll talk to anyone, me.’
‘Not me,’ said Richard Latham. ‘I’ll wait for my solicitor, if you don’t mind.’
Latham didn’t look half as cocky without a toasted teacake in front of him, but he was still putting on a good show in Interview Three.
‘Suit yourself,’ said Marvel, but he sat down anyway and added, ‘Mrs Granger didn’t wait for her solicitor.’
‘I’m sorry?’
He’d heard him. But Marvel said it again anyway. ‘Mrs Granger didn’t wait for her solicitor.’
‘I don’t think I know a Mrs Granger.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I don’t—’ Latham stopped and Marvel grinned at him. Latham leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
Marvel could barely hide his self-satisfaction. Then decided he couldn’t be bothered to. ‘I knew you were hiding something, Latham. Didn’t I say so, Brady?’
DS Brady nodded at the psychic. ‘He said you were hiding something.’
‘Turns out it was nothing special after all. Nothing clever. Nothing supernatural. Just common or garden theft and deception.’ Marvel gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Mrs Granger is the lady who looked after all those dogs you pretended to find, Mr Latham.’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ said Latham. ‘So I’d prefer to wait for my solicitor before getting this matter cleared up, thank you.’
‘Of course,’ said Marvel. ‘It shouldn’t take long once we get going; Mrs Granger’s given us chapter and verse.’
Latham pursed his lips. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he stared at the ceiling for a bit. Then he said, ‘Chapter and verse. That’s an interesting turn of phrase.’
Marvel ignored the invitation to ask why. He sipped the coffee he’d brought in with him and looked at his watch.
‘One Corinthians,’ Latham went on. ‘Fifteen twenty-six. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.’
‘What’s your point?’ said Marvel.
‘Are you a religious man, Chief Inspector?’
‘No.’
‘Aaah,’ sighed Latham, ‘you will be one day. Everybody gets there in the end.’
Marvel snorted. ‘Are you a betting man?’
‘No.’
‘Lucky for you,’ said Marvel. ‘I’d win.’
‘Even as you lost,’ said Latham sadly.
Marvel yawned. ‘How long did your solicitor say he’d be?’
‘About an hour.’
‘From when?’
‘About an hour ago.’
‘Good,’ said Marvel, and opened the case file.
Marvel would have felt naked walking into an interview without a case file, so he’d hastily put one together on Mitzi Clyde, although it consisted of little more than a few photos and the recovered cheque, so it was necessarily thin.
Latham laughed, but it sounded short and hollow in this small, featureless room. ‘I see you have lots of evidence against me, Mr Marvel.’
Marvel liked the fact that Latham had been concerned enough to check, so he smiled back.
‘Enough is all I need,’ he said. And it was true. Cases could stand or fall on a single hair or a solitary thumbprint. Sometimes a boxful of paperwork was only evidence of how confusing a case was – or how confused the investigating officer was.
‘So,’ said Marvel. ‘Mrs Granger – Denise. Are you two …’ Marvel left the words hanging but made a small twisty motion with two fingers.
‘Don’t be distasteful, Mr Marvel.’
‘What?’ said Marvel. ‘I thought you didn’t know her. She could look like Julia Roberts for all you claim to know.’
Latham pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced at his watch.
‘So it was just a business relationship?’ said Marvel.
‘I’m waiting for my solicitor,’ said Latham.
‘It was just about the money,’ mused Marvel. ‘That’s very you, isn’t it, Richard?’
‘I hope Mr Proctor gets here soon,’ said Latham, looking at the door. ‘No offence, Chief Inspector, but you’re a very boring man to be stuck in a small room with.’
They all stopped talking.
Marvel finished his tea.
Brady folded a page from his notebook into a paper plane and flew it into the clock.
Latham sat.
‘Tell me about your church,’ Marvel said to his own surprise; he hadn’t known he was going to ask.
Latham looked at him suspiciously
‘I’m serious,’ said Marvel. ‘While we’re waiting. Might as well.’
Latham shrugged. ‘Well,’ he started, ‘it’s small—’
‘With a big roof,’ said Marvel.
Latham looked at him like a headmaster. ‘Do you want to hear about it, Marvel, or do you just want to poke fun?’