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“Just after midnight. My wife and I went. I think her sister stayed up for a while longer.”
Gardener removed a photo from the file in front of him.
“How often do you visit Esholt?”
“Now and again. Maybe go over and have Sunday lunch. Or we take my wife’s sister out for the day, but it’s not somewhere we’d go and stay over, unless, of course, we’re kicked out of our house.”
“You’re not telling us porkies now, are you, Billy?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never had any other reason for visiting Esholt?”
“Such as?”
“You tell us.”
Morrison laughed. “Oh, I see what you two are getting at. What? You think I’m having an affair with my wife’s sister behind her back? You think it runs in the family? Our Barry can’t be trusted, so neither can I. Well I’ll tell the pair of you now, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t know anyone in Esholt, and I have no reason to go there other than to visit my wife’s sister, with my wife, never on my own.”
Gardener slid over the photo of the girl that resembled Chloe Summerby. “Do you recognize the girl in the photo?”
“No.”
“You don’t know a couple who live in the village by the name of Summerby?”
“No.” Morrison stared at the photo more closely. “Wait a minute. Isn’t this the girl from the village who went missing? She’s called Summerby. The wife and her sister were on about it last night. She’s still missing, isn’t she? The parents must be going spare.”
“You’ve never seen her before?”
“Only on the news and in the papers.” Morrison put the photo down, and an expression crossed his features that could have curdled milk.
“Hey, just a minute. Why are you showing me this?”
“Just asking if you recognize her or if you’ve seen her before,” said Gardener.
“But why?”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it? You said you haven’t.”
“But you could be lying,” said Reilly. “We get a lot of that in here. People will say anything to distract us.”
Morrison was on his feet again. “Listen you, I’m no scum, and neither is our Barry.”
“Barry?” said Gardener. “Who mentioned Barry?”
“We didn’t,” said Reilly.
“Don’t mess me about,” shouted Morrison. “You’ve shown me this for a reason. Either you think I’m up to something more than murder, or you think our Barry or me had something to do with this girl going missing. Well I’m telling you now, you’re on the wrong tracks. I’m not into shit like this, and neither is our Barry.”
“How do you know?” said Reilly.
“You didn’t know he was into drugs,” said Gardener. “You didn’t know he owned houses, or that he had a prostitute holed up in one against her will.”
“Against her will. Have you heard yourselves?”
“Seems you didn’t really know your brother that well at all. Let me give you another example, did you know it was your Barry who persuaded Frank Fisher to sue the builder Fisher had worked for?”
“Pardon?”
