AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Your daughter doesn’t seem to find that idea preposterous.”
“My daughter’s in shock. Where’s my husband? I want to speak to my husband.”
“You know you’re not helping yourself, or your wife, by refusing to answer our questions.”
A few doors down the corridor from Alexia, Teddy De Vere was also being interviewed. Inspector Henry Frobisher, one of the Oxford police’s most talented officers, had been drafted in by Chief Inspector Wilmott on the grounds that Teddy might open up more to “another poshy.”
No such luck. With his arms folded across his chest and his head turned resolutely away, Teddy repeated the mantra he’d been intoning ever since he left Kingsmere. “I want my lawyer.”
“When did you last see Andrew Beesley alive?”
“I want my lawyer.”
“Are there any grounds for your daughter’s belief that your wife may have been responsible for Mr. Beesley’s death?”
“I refuse to answer any questions without my lawyer.”
“Mr. De Vere, were you aware that Mr. Beesley was in fact dead, and had not returned to Australia as you told your daughter?”
“Lawyer.”
Inspector Henry Frobisher switched off the tape. “Get his solicitor here,” he barked at his sergeant. “Now. And make sure someone’s with the daughter. We need a statement as soon as she wakes up.”
Alexia De Vere was becoming more strident.
“I demand to see my daughter.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to demand anything just now, Mrs. De Vere.”
“Turn off that tape recorder.”
Chief Inspector Wilmott considered the request for a moment, then did as he was asked. Breaks in a case often happened when witnesses, or suspects, agreed to talk off the record.
“Is there something you want to say to me, Mrs. De Vere?”
“Yes, there is.”
Chief Inspector Wilmott felt his excitement building. This is it. She’s going to confess.
“I want to remind you that I’m still the home secretary of this country. And that as such, your boss, and your boss’s boss, report to me. I could have you suspended. Like that.” She snapped her fingers imperiously.
If he hadn’t felt so disappointed, Chief Inspector Wilmott would have laughed. Alexia De Vere might be the Iron Lady, but she didn’t scare him, and neither did her powerful friends.
“On what grounds?” He squared his shoulders. “A young man was shot to death on your estate, Mrs. De Vere. You may not care about that fact. But I do. What’s more”—he paused for effect—“I think you killed him.”
Alexia’s upper lip curled. “Based on what? Roxie’s paranoia? An old watch?”
“As it happens, I found your daughter to be a very convincing witness. I’ve a feeling a jury may feel the same. I mean, let’s face it, ordinary voters haven’t exactly been warming to you recently, have they? And that’s all juries are, Mrs. De Vere. Just twelve ordinary voters.”
Alexia eyed the fat policeman contemplatively.
“Turn on the tape.”
Chief Inspector Wilmott pressed a button.
“Interview resumed, three-fifteen P.M.”
Roxie De Vere opened her eyes.
