It was a surreal moment. None of them spoke.
“You don’t understand,” said Bill quietly. He swallowed and seemed to compose himself.
“How long have you been Bill and Nick?” asked Tristan.
“Too long,” he said. “Bill is my birth name. Nick came later.”
He eyed the landline phone sitting on the hall table, and then he ran for it, pushing past Kate and Tristan and running deeper into the house, vanishing around the corner.
“Don’t let him go,” said Kate. They moved down the hallway, which opened out into a large kitchen and living room area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the garden with a pool and terrace and the beach beyond. There were back doors leading out, but they were closed.
“Upstairs,” said Tristan, pointing to a staircase. Kate and Tristan climbed the steps two at a time. On the second floor was a long corridor with a skylight, and rooms leading off it. They could hear sounds coming from the second room along the landing. Kate put her hand in her bag and found the can of Mace. Tristan went first.
The second door was open. It was an office, similar in style to the office in Bill’s house in Salcombe. But there was a glass-fronted cabinet with a row of gleaming black-and-silver break-action shotguns. One of the glass doors was open, and Bill was holding one of the guns. The desk beside him was empty, and on the polished surface sat two shotgun shells.
Kate tried to ignore the feeling of panic as her heart started to race. She was not going to lose it. Tristan reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in the doorway.
Bill looked up at them, and he had a strange, vacant look in his eyes. He opened the shotgun. Tristan lunged into the room and swept the shells off the desk. They landed with a clink on the tiled floor and rolled out of sight. Tristan was now standing on the other side of the desk. Bill kept hold of the gun.
“Put the gun down,” said Kate, following Tristan into the office.
“You flatter yourself,” said Bill to Kate.
“Bill. Give me the gun,” said Tristan, holding out his hand.
“And you can fuck off. You’re not going to bully me. I HAVE THE GUN!” Bill screamed the last part, and Kate flinched. Bill and Tristan were nearly a match in height and were both well built. Tristan stayed close, with the desk between them. Bill remained standing with the shotgun open in his hand.
Kate put her hand in her bag and felt the can of Mace again. We have to keep him talking.
“What about Bev? Does she know that you lead a double life? And that your other life is with a man?”
Bill laughed and shook his head.
“Does Max know?”
“You leave Max out of this! He doesn’t know anything. NOTHING!”
“So Max is the one you love. Where does that leave Bev in all this?”
“I love Bev, but . . .”
“But what?” asked Kate.
“I don’t have to justify and explain myself to you!” cried Bill.
“You’re going to have to justify yourself to the police,” said Tristan. “You’ve been meticulous in crafting these two identities, and presumably other identities when you picked up your victims, but you made one big mistake. Nick Lacey parked his BMW on Bev’s road the night that Joanna went missing. But Bill told the police he’d parked Bev’s car on the same street that same night. Nick had a top-of-the-range BMW. Bev had an old Renault, but for some reason, this ‘thief’ chose to steal Bev’s car.”
Bill laughed at this. “That means nothing. Cars get nicked for all sorts of reasons. Low-level drug dealers nick cars, and they don’t want nothing flashy.”
Kate nodded. “Yes, true. We went back over your statement for the day Joanna went missing. You were out with Bev at Killerton House and then got a phone call just before four p.m. calling you to work at a construction project at Teybridge House. You drove to Teybridge House with Bev, and she walked home and left her car with you. Two construction site workers, Raj Bilal and Malik Hopkirk, gave you an alibi saying you arrived at four forty-five p.m. and stayed for around four hours.”
“Yes,” said Bill.
“We’ve spent the past couple of days tracking them down,” said Kate. “Malik Hopkirk died of lung cancer six years ago, but Raj Bilal is alive. We explained our theory to him, and the jail time for lying to the police, and now he’s not so sure that you did stay at the Teybridge House construction site for four hours. He says you paid him to lie.”
“Where’s the proof?” said Bill. “It’s circumstantial.”