Shallow Ground by Andy Maslen

Author:Andy Maslen [Maslen, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542021098
Published: 2020-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

Abbott’s suit jacket was on its hanger, as it had been during their last meeting. Ford discerned the edges of dark patches under the arms of the consultant’s pink shirt.

‘Tell me about your work at the Purcell Foundation,’ Ford said, notebook ready on his knee.

‘I’m a trustee.’

‘Which means?’

‘I oversee the work of the management. It’s largely about good governance,’ Abbott said. ‘Making sure everyone’s acting according to the Foundation’s ethics policy – the charity laws, yes? A quarterly meeting, the odd fund-raising reception. Tiresome, if I’m being brutally honest, but one has to do one’s bit, doesn’t one?’

‘Oh, one does. One does.’

Abbott’s lips tightened and his eyes flashed. A momentary expression, then it was gone. He checked his Rolex, pulling his cuff up to give Ford an eyeful. ‘Was there anything else?’

‘Yes. What do you do when you volunteer at the food bank?’

‘I think I just told you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ford said, smiling. ‘I didn’t make myself clear. I spoke to Rachel Taylor today and she said the trustees all put in time on the frontline. I think the phrase she used was “We don’t want CV-polishers on our board.” Something like that, anyway. What do you do when you’re on the frontline, Mr Abbott?’

Abbott pulled his cuff down again. ‘You know, handing out food parcels, helping people carry their bags to their cars. Or the bus stop. The usual.’

‘Did you ever help Angie Halpern?’

‘I can’t remember. I might have done.’

‘Paul Eadon?’

Abbott frowned and touched his lower lip. ‘Maybe. I’m not sure. There are rather a lot of them.’

‘Doesn’t say much for our society, does it?’

‘I really wouldn’t know. Most of them could pay their way if they put in a bit more effort. Look, where are you going with this?’

‘How about Marcus Anderson?’

‘No, again. I’m sorry.’

Ford shrugged. Onwards. ‘I’m trying to build up a picture of the victims and their lives. They’re linked by the food bank, so I need to ascertain whether that’s how their murderer selected them,’ he said. ‘Tell me, have you noticed anyone acting suspiciously when you’ve been volunteering there?’

‘Pocketing baked beans meant for the poor, you mean?’ Abbott said with a smirk.

Ford waited a few seconds before trusting himself to answer. Was that a deliberate choice, Abbott? Are you taunting me? ‘Possibly. Or engaging in inappropriate conversations with customers.’

‘No. Nothing like that. Nothing.’

Ford gave his ‘reassuring the suspect’ smile and leaned back in his chair. ‘Just a few more questions, and then you can go to your meeting.’

‘Thank you. It is rather important.’

For the third time, Ford recited the times and dates of the murders. ‘Where were you on each of those dates?’

Abbott’s face was neutral. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to get back to you on that one.’

‘No diary?’

‘Of course. I’m sorry. You just flustered me there for a second.’

‘It’s just routine. So we can eliminate you from our enquiries.’

Abbott checked his phone, swiping, frowning, swiping, frowning.

‘Any joy?’ Ford asked.

‘I was at home each time.’

‘With someone, or alone?’

‘With my wife.’

‘Well, that’s you in the clear. Thank you, Mr Abbott.

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