Chapter 13 #2
The skin around Tilda’s neck turned pink and Sandy saw fear grip her. ‘I’ve told the detective that we’ll stay here overnight and be available for statements in the morning.’
‘More statements?’
Tilda shrugged. ‘I didn’t speak to legal before I agreed.’
‘Calm down, Tilda. We’ll give our statements and then head to Dow Bank House.
When we’re done, we’ll head home. Investigations like this take months in the UK.
They have no money, and their legal system is broken like an old Ford engine.
Tell them what you know, and we’ll hear from them in a year when they close the inquiry, if there is one.
Did you see that old guy who is the coroner?
He looks as though he’s going to fall asleep any minute. ’
Tilda laughed. It was a rare moment and Sandy thought Tilda quite attractive when she chilled the fuck out.
‘Tell me honestly, Sandy, do you think he was pushed? Do you think it was deliberate? If it’s a competitor, they might not stop at Jamie. What we have is worth killing for, isn’t it?’
Sandy went to take a sip of juice from one of the colourful glasses but thought twice about it and sniffed it instead, for signs of interference.
The best poisons were odourless, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be telltale traces, such as dyes, or a weird texture.
She examined the liquid carefully and stared into the glass.
‘I think the less you know the better,’ Sandy said.
It did the trick. Tilda stood up and backed away and bumped into Lee on her way out.
Sandy forced a weak smile.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ he asked her.
Sandy assessed if she had time to play.
She did not.
She looked around but couldn’t think of an excuse to get rid of Lee and decided to stay and watch the show.
The global empire of Hampton-Dent had been brought to its knees in the middle of the English Lake District and suddenly, Sandy felt like laughing.
The story of Jamie Robbins’ death had reached the other side of the pond and a scandal was brewing.
‘Everybody is in shock,’ Lee said, looking around.
She saw he wore fresh, clean clothes. The remnants of Jamie’s lifeblood had gone.
She’d done the same. The police had allowed her to take a shower but they’d asked for her clothes to test them.
As a scientist herself she knew it was to screen them for fibres and trace material to check that no third party was involved.
She and Lee were both the closest to the area on the floor where Jamie had landed.
She supposed both she and Lee would be covered in splatter and just as blood-pattern experts traced the trajectory of bodily fluids up walls and across carpets and tiles, so they could do it on other items.
‘They let you change,’ she said.
Lee smiled and nodded. ‘You too?’
She nodded.
‘I made a fool of myself,’ she said.
‘No, you were in shock,’ he reassured her.
‘I’m a scientist; I should know not to do things like that,’ she said. Which was exactly why she’d done it, to get as much contact with Jamie’s body as possible.
Lee reached out his hand and laid it gently on hers.
‘I contaminated the scene,’ she added.
‘No, you didn’t, you comforted him at the… end.’
The door opened and they caught sight of movement in the foyer.
‘The big guns have arrived.’ Sandy nodded over to the entrance where the female detective in plain clothes and a lanyard around her neck chatted to a forensic officer. ‘Have you given a statement yet?’ she asked.
‘I’ve been told that I’ll give a lengthy one in due course. They know who I am. I’m going nowhere. You?’
‘I didn’t see anything; I’m no use to them,’ she said.
‘Had you been for a smoke? I saw you come in from outside, you know, just after Jamie fell.’
Sandy shook her head. ‘No, you must have been mistaken,’ she said. She brushed his hand with hers and he smiled.
‘I suppose they’ll want to know his movements over the last couple of days though, won’t they?’ Lee said.
‘I really need to get back to New York,’ she said.
‘Under different circumstances I was going to invite you to stay here a bit longer,’ he said.
He peered at her longingly and Sandy realised just how much she’d encouraged him over the last couple of days.
The looks, the flicker of her eyelids, and the shared cigarettes, the conversations, the innuendos.
The sexual fumbles when she took charge and guided the young manager to be more confident and assured with his prowess. He wasn’t bad.
He was a nice bloke, but he was one thing to her.
An alibi.
‘I’m sorry I misled you,’ she said. ‘It’s not your fault, Lee,’ she said softly, taking his hand.
The female detective and the old coroner glanced in her direction from beyond the doorway and she looked away, but not before the detective locked eyes with her.
She dropped Lee’s hand and left the table.
There was a queue for the lift so she took the corridor behind the reception to the back stairs.
She’d become adept at using the network of hidden routes to navigate her way around the hotel when Jamie was alive.
It was a secret maze of corridors and doors that reminded her of children’s novels and spies.
She and Jamie had discussed future strategies, and she’d kept an eye on him, all the while knowing what he was up to, and now he was gone.
She’d miss him. He could sell water to a fish.
Jamie Robbins could convince you to hand over your grandma.
He was the most charismatic and charming salesman she’d ever met.
But more than that, Jamie was clever and streets ahead of his audience.
That’s why she knew he didn’t kill himself.