Father's Day by Richard Madeley

Author:Richard Madeley [Madeley, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2024-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Nine

Williamson kept a discreet eye on Nick throughout the drive back to Quedgeley. If he was indeed their killer, he was as cool as a cucumber. The only time he had betrayed emotion was, unsurprisingly, when they had mentioned the name of his daughter. After agreeing to come to the station with them, he had kept silent, just looking out of the window of the car. Williamson knew they needed to handle the next part delicately. At any point, Wychwood would know he could shut up and demand to see a lawyer. He hadn’t done so yet.

They reached headquarters just after two o’clock. Johnson pulled Williamson’s Mondeo into one of the spaces outside and turned off the engine. The three of them got out. Nick paused for a second outside the modern three-storey building, taking it in. Williamson wondered if this was the novelist in him, absorbing the detail of the building for later use.

Johnson led them through reception. They had booked out interview room 3 for the afternoon. I-3 was a tight, windowless space with whitewashed breezeblock walls. It was the smallest and most cramped interview room they had available and it got hellishly hot in the summer, but that was why Williamson liked it: he could quite literally sweat a suspect.

The room was furnished with only a Formica-topped table and three metal chairs, all bolted to the floor. Johnson stood at the doorway and indicated the single chair on the far side of the table.

‘Take a seat, Mr Wychwood. Can we offer you a tea or a coffee?’

‘Call me Nick, please,’ Nick said. ‘If you have a glass of water that would be great, thank you very much.’ Nick sat down behind the table, putting his hands on his thighs and making himself as comfortable as it was possible to get in the chair. Which, Williamson knew from personal experience, wasn’t very.

Williamson turned to Johnson. ‘Sounds like a good idea, bit stuffy in here. Peter, do you mind grabbing us three waters?’

Johnson wasn’t in the habit of acting as drinks waiter, but he stepped out into the corridor without complaint

The pause gave Williamson a few moments to size up the opposition.

Nick looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He had been wearing loose shorts and a t-shirt when they had called on him, but had taken a couple of minutes to change into beige chinos and a white tennis shirt before leaving. His brown suede shoes looked as though they had been plucked fresh from the box. Williamson could already feel sweat gathering at the base of his neck, but Nick still looked cool and collected. A little too cool and collected, considering the topic of conversation. He was looking back at Williamson, holding his gaze firmly.

‘I’d like to get straight to the point if you don’t mind. What does this have to do with my daughter?’

Williamson held up a hand. He could hear Johnson’s footsteps echoing in the corridor outside. ‘Just a moment, Mr Wych…’ he pretended to catch himself, although of course the slip was entirely deliberate.

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