“A close friend?”
“According to Frank, yes,” replied Quarry. “But not anymore.”
“What, they fell out after the trial?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think he was blaming the friend for what had happened. He was gutted about his wife, his life, and pretty much everything. The fact that he was trapped in the chair, couldn’t go anywhere. One of the reasons Frank was in a really bad place yesterday was because his friend had just been found dead.”
“Who was his friend?” Reilly asked.
“Bloke called Barry Morrison. Ran a taxi firm.”
“Thought as much,” said Reilly.
“Are you two investigating Barry Morrison’s death?”
“Yes,” said Gardener. “Did Frank Fisher ever mention the name Nicola Stapleton?”
“Not that I can recall. Wasn’t she the prostitute who was killed on Friday night?”
“You’re well informed.”
“It’s a small place.”
“Did you know her?”
“No.”
“Does the name Alan Sargent mean anything?” asked Reilly. “That one ever come up in conversation?”
Quarry’s eyes narrowed. Gardener suspected it had, and the man was searching his memory bank.
“I think so. Maybe you guys should dig into the archives of the trial. I’m sure that name was mentioned. What makes you ask?”
“We’ve just left him.”
“Is he okay?”
“Maybe we should examine the scene,” said Gardener.
“Of course,” said Quarry. “But I’ll warn you, it’s not pleasant.”
“Never is anything we have to look at,” said Reilly.
They were about to move when Fitz appeared in his silver BMW. Close behind him was another ambulance with the undertakers.
The pathologist approached the two officers. “Morning, gentlemen. You look as if you’ve been up all night.”
“Feels like it,” said Gardener.
“How is the case progressing?”
“Slowly,” said Reilly.
“What do we have inside?” Fitz nodded towards the house.
Gardener told Fitz what Quarry had told them.
“Have you seen the corpse?”