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“Before you go, it’s my turn for one more question. Do you really think Sinclair is behind my nephew’s death?”
“Right now, Mr Armitage, he’s just helping us with our inquiries.”
Gardener and Reilly left the shopkeeper at his front door and jumped in the car. Within ten minutes they were back at the station.
* * *
Cragg and Williams were sitting together in the incident room, each holding a cup of tea in one hand, and a sandwich in the other. Both men were chewing in silence, probably thinking about everything that had happened in the space of two days.
Gardener’s team had also chosen to take five minutes. He noticed Thornton and Anderson outside, both smoking. The rest had succumbed to the afternoon cup of tea ritual. But he couldn’t blame them. Once again, he realized he had not eaten since breakfast. It’s funny how he could go about his daily business without a thought for food, until he saw someone else eating.
“Mr Gardener,” said Cragg. “Come and help yourself, sir.”
He pointed to a tray of tea with one or two remaining sandwiches. “I know your sergeant won’t need telling twice.”
Gardener did as he was asked. The tea was only warm at best, but the sandwich was roast beef and top quality, judging by the taste.
Gardener told them what Armitage had to say. He then asked what they had come up with.
David Williams went first. “Graham Johnson had stayed the night at Sinclair’s house. But the housekeeper thinks they parted on bad terms. She heard raised voices, a slamming door, and a few minutes later, his van start up. When she next saw Robert Sinclair, he had a nasty bruise on the side of his face. She thought better than to ask.”
“Another piece of evidence,” said Gardener, enjoying the sandwich. “Johnson spending the night with Sinclair goes some way to proving that they were in it together, as far as I’m concerned.”
“It certainly looks like it,” said Williams. “As far as I can see, Graham Johnson was the electrical genius, and Robert Sinclair the medical man. Both had a motive to kill. One had lost a sister, and the other a wife.”
“And when you put Adam’s death into the equation,” said Cragg, taking a gulp of his tea, “both of them had lost another family member.”
“Both had the knowledge and could help each other out,” added Williams.
“The only unusual thing about that was Sinclair allowing Johnson to help,” said Gardener.
“What makes you say that?” asked Williams.
“If you consider everything that’s happened, in my opinion, it would take a true psychopath to invest the time and the money in research and development to kidnap and operate on potential targets.”
“And if anyone had the time, the money, and everything he needed, it was Sinclair,” said Reilly.
“Maurice? Phone calls?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Yes. We’ve pulled out all the stops.” He consulted his notes. “The one that Gary got at three o’clock came from Armitage’s landline in the shop.”
“That pretty much seals it for me.”
“It will when I play you these.”
“Play me what?”
Cragg moved over to an ancient tape recorder. It was an old mono ITT machine like Gardener used to have when he was a child. Very basic, but it did the job.
“Armitage had an answering machine installed. It took some time to find because it wasn’t next to the phone. It was hidden in one of the cupboards in that bloody great unit across the back wall.”
Cragg switched on the machine. The first voice they heard was Sinclair, informing Gary Close that it had all been taken care of, and Gary could start the ball rolling. They heard Gary’s part of the conversation when he was asking three hours to what, and demanding to know who was calling him.
He’d acted well. Each man in the room seemed as gutted as Gardener.
“The second conversation is when Gary called Sinclair from the landline in the shop, while he was investigating. That was around 3:40 in the morning.”
They listened to Gary Close informing Sinclair that he’d done his part.
