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‘What is it?’
‘When Estelle left work she discovered she had a flat tyre. She had to get it changed before she went to her dad’s.’
‘Surely the police took that into account?’
‘The CPS contend her journey took the usual time and she used the extra time to stage the burglary.’
‘So, it’s possible that when Estelle told them how long her journey had taken, she assumed they’d included the time it had taken to change her tyre.’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Which statement was it on?’
‘One of the first. She was still a witness at that point so the police officer was letting her talk. She mentioned the flat tyre when he asked her what time she’d left work.’
‘And it wasn’t mentioned again?’
‘We can’t see it anywhere.’
Poe hadn’t been able to quiz Doyle about her journey the first time he’d seen her. He’d wanted to ask if she’d stopped off for a bottle of whisky or something on the way to her dad’s, but Tai-young Lee had warned him not to interfere in the investigation. And he’d just plain forgotten today.
‘Can you send it to Tilly?’ he asked Ania.
‘I’ll do it now.’
‘Thanks. Who did she use to change the flat tyre?’
‘Said she did it herself.’
‘No video?’
‘RVI staff car park doesn’t have CCTV.’
The flat tyre was troubling. If someone was ultra-cynical, they might have suggested Doyle had dropped this into an early interviewso it was on record. During a trial she could make it appear as if the CPS barrister had been hiding things, and the more she could do that, the less believable everything else became. Reasonable doubt – that was all she needed. He put the thought out of his mind. Doyle was being framed. He was sure of it.
‘Anyway,’ Poe said. ‘We’ve managed to get lost. We’re where the satnav told us to be, but we can’t find her dad’s house.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘Outside some stately home.’
‘Does this stately home have black gates? They’ll be mounted on stone pillars, green with algae.’
‘It does. They’re padlocked shut. Are we near?’
‘Is there a sign on one of the stone pillars?’
It took a few seconds for Poe’s eyes to adjust to the gloom, but there was a sign. It was old and wooden. The creep of green algae had covered both the pillar and the sign. No wonder he’d missed it earlier. Words were engraved into the wood but they were illegible.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘What does it say?’
‘I can’t make it out from here.’
He got out of the car and stood in front of the sign. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Thisis Elcid Doyle’s house? This massive estate?’
‘Highwood is the Doyles’ ancestral home, yes.’
