Impression (DI Gardener 4)

Sally Summerby clammed up, crossed her hands, and rested them on the table.

“We can do this another time, if you’d prefer.”

“There isn’t a time that would suit me,” she replied. “But if you’re offering, yes, I would prefer to do it another time.”

“Why?” Reilly asked. “Do you have somewhere else to go?”

“Anywhere but here would be better. At least I wouldn’t be wasting my time.”

“Or ours.” The two detectives rose from their seats.

“Am I free to go?”

“No,” said Gardener. “We’re just going to leave you here until you’re ready to answer our questions. Like you, we have better things to do.”

Sally Summerby stood up as well. “You can’t keep me here for no reason.”

“We’re not. You’re here for questioning, and for that we can hold you for a certain amount of time. If you choose not to answer the questions, then you can sit here in silence until such time is up.” Gardener and Reilly made for the door.

“Okay, okay, if it gets me out of here quicker, I’ll play your stupid games. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Gardener sat back in his chair. “It’s funny how many people have said that recently. But somebody has, and it’s our job to find out who. And what you should bear in mind is that the quicker we do, there’s every chance we can resolve your daughter’s abduction at the same time.”

“Are you saying whoever killed these people has my daughter?”

“Okay, let’s run through it again. You don’t know Nicola Stapleton, or Frank Fisher, or Alan Sargent. Where were you on Sunday night and Monday morning?”

“I was at home.”

“And your husband can verify this, can he?”

“Of course, depending on the times. Like I said, they’re harvesting, so it’s his busiest time of the year. He left for work on Sunday morning about eight, but he was back home at two. We spent the rest of the day together. He left for work on Monday morning at seven.”

“You didn’t go out on Sunday night?”

“No. I cooked a meal and we stayed in and watched some TV.”

“Do you use the pub in the village?”

“Sometimes. We might have a Sunday lunch with his workmates, but we haven’t this weekend. Why are you asking me about my movements?”

“We’re eliminating you.”

“From what?”

“What do you think?” Reilly asked.

Gardener could almost hear the cogs in Sally Summerby’s head turning. “Have those two people you’ve just mentioned been killed?”

“That’s what we do,” said Reilly. “We investigate people who have been killed and try and find out why, and who did it.”

“But I haven’t killed anybody. For God’s sake, my daughter is missing, and we’re beside ourselves most of the time working out where she could be. We spend most of our time at home thinking about her and the hole in our life she’s made, and pray for her safe return.”

Sally Summerby was close to tears. She removed a tissue from her sleeve, wiping her eyes and nose. “I have not killed any of those people, and I don’t know any of them.”

“You also claimed you didn’t know Barry Morrison,” said Reilly.

“Who?”