“That man is a totally different kettle of fish. After Adam died, Robert’s father Peter spent a lot of time with them both. He visited Theresa, Robert’s wife, sometimes two and three times a week at the clinic in Harrogate. She couldn’t accept the death of their son, and had a breakdown. He helped her to come to terms with it. Just when he thought they were making headway, she died in mysterious circumstances. Something to do with the wrong drugs.”
“I’m just throwing something out here,” offered Reilly, “but you don’t think Sinclair had anything to do with that, do you?”
“It’s unlikely,” said Gardener. “Unless he was implicated. But why would he have anything to do with his son’s death?”
“I don’t think he did,” said Sharp. “Peter reckoned that the family were a pretty devoted one. The parents would have done anything for their son.
“As for Robert, his father could not get through to him. He has the ability to put up a front no matter what the situation. Somehow, he seems to block out everything he does not want to deal with until he’s ready. He also has an obsession for seeing justice prevail, right is right and all that.”
“That would answer for the game he produced.”
“What game?” Sharp asked.
Gardener briefed him on what Simon Walker had told them.
“That’s interesting. His father mentioned that he hates being the centre of attention. He also said that more than anything, he hates losing control of any situation. He is an absolute control freak.”
Sharp picked up another two or three sheets of paper. “Peter also told me about a situation between Robert and Theresa. She could not forgive herself for what happened on the night Adam died.
“Apparently, Adam and his parents had argued that night. All his friends had been going out to the cinema, and then on to a party in Bursley Bridge. Robert and Theresa said they had wanted him home by eleven o’clock, and Adam had said it was too early. Robert said he would only allow Adam to stay later if he had agreed to his father meeting him.
“As it turned out, Robert had been called to the hospital on an emergency, which had taken him through the night and into the next morning. He was about to leave the hospital sometime around six-thirty, when Adam’s body had been taken into the mortuary. The attending pathologist had recognised Robert’s son, and called him immediately.”
“Stupid question time: how did he take the death of his son?”
“Like his father said, he just seemed to withdraw, block everything out. Within a couple of days he was back at work, and completely refused to talk about it. His father knew that he was thinking about it, and that it was weighing heavily on his mind, because he was so obsessed with blocking it out. As if, because he wasn’t thinking about it or acknowledging it, the whole thing had never happened.”
“Jesus Christ!” said Reilly. “I wouldn’t like to be there when he finally does.”
“I have a feeling we will be,” replied Gardener.
Silence filled the room. Gardener needed to plan a course of action for his officers.
Steve Fenton the CSM barged in. He’d removed his white paper suit, and was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Bit more on Graham Johnson for you, sir. The cell sites put him in Bursley Bridge at the time that he called the solicitor, Ronson. The best we can narrow it down to is a postcode, which could very well put him at Sinclair’s house.”
“So either of them could have made the call,” said Reilly.
“Assuming he was at Sinclair’s house,” said Gardener, “But I don’t think he could have been anywhere else.”
Gardener turned to Sergeant Williams. “David, will you call Sinclair, see if he’s at home? You’ll probably end up speaking to his housekeeper. Just tell her your investigating something that’s happened to Graham Johnson, and you’re trying to piece together his movements for the morning. Ask her if he was there.”
Williams nodded and left the room.
“Anything else?” asked Gardener.
“I think it’s safe to assume he will have been,” said Fenton. “Just before the crash, Johnson received a phone call from Sinclair. That might have had something to do with his death.”
Gardener turned to Cragg. “Maurice, anything on a medical history for Johnson?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“I could do to know whether or not Johnson has had any operations recently. Judging what we’ve learned about Sinclair today, I wouldn’t put it past him to have a little insurance policy on everyone involved. If the heat in the kitchen became too much, he could simply pull the plug on them all.”
“I’ll get onto it, sir.”
“That leaves us with another problem,” said Thornton. “If Gary is involved, has Sinclair taken out an insurance policy on him? After all, he was the one who fixed Gary’s leg.”