A Place of Execution (1999) by Val McDermid

Author:Val McDermid
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 1999-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

26

The Long Haul 4

The photographs silenced Carver. George reckoned it wouldn’t be the last time they had that effect.

Carver stared as if gazing would somehow erase the images and replace them with the picture-postcard shots of Scardale that Hawkin sold to local shops. Then, abruptly, he turned away. He pointed to a sheet of paper. ‘Naden’s home number. He’ll want to be present when you interview the prisoner.’ He stood up and snatched his overcoat from the wall hook behind his desk.

‘You’re not staying for the interview, sir?’ George asked, something like dismay showing in his voice.

‘It’s been your case from the beginning. You see it through,’ Carver said coldly. He shrugged into his coat. ‘You and Clough, you do it.’

‘But sir,’ George started, then stopped. He wanted to say he’d never done anything as serious as this, that he’d never conducted an interrogation where he had so little to go on, that it was Carver’s job as the DCI to take charge in this situation. The words died in his mouth with the realization that Carver thought the wheels were going to come off this case somewhere along the line and he didn’t want to be aboard when they did.

‘But what?’

‘Nothing, sir.’

‘So what are you waiting for? I can’t lock up my office if you’re standing in the middle of the floor like piffy, can I?’

‘Sorry, sir,’ George said, picking up the sheet of paper from Carver’s desk. He turned his back and walked out into the CID room. ‘Sergeant,’ he called across to Clough. ‘Grab your coat. Let’s go.’

Surprised, Clough did as he was told. Carver scowled. ‘Where are you going? You’ve got a prisoner to charge and question.’

‘I’m going to phone Mr Naden and ask him to be here in an hour’s time. Then I’m taking Sergeant Clough home with me for a meal. We’ve neither of us eaten since breakfast, and a major interrogation needs more to sustain it than nicotine and caffeine. Sir,’ George said unapologetically.

Carver sneered. ‘Is that what they teach you at university?’

‘No, sir, it’s something I learned from Superintendent Martin, actually. He says you should never send your forces into battle on an empty stomach.’ George smiled. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, sir, we have work to do.’ He turned away and picked up the phone. He could feel Carver’s eyes burning into his back as he dialled. ‘Hello? Mr Naden? It’s Detective Inspector Bennett from Buxton CID here. I intend to question your client on suspicion of murder and rape in an hour’s time. I’d be much obliged if you could be here then…Fine, I’ll see you then. Thank you.’ He ended the call by depressing the rest then dialled again. ‘Anne? It’s me.’ He turned round and stared pointedly at Carver, who snorted and stalked off towards the stairs.

Precisely an hour later, Alfie Naden was shown into the interview room. He looked the epitome of a prosperous country solicitor, his neat paunch encased in a three–piece suit of irreproachable dark worsted.

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