“Okay, but the reporter also said that Charlie was seen late on Friday night up by the workers’ village—those tatty old static caravans the builders are using. On the Brighton road.”
“Really? Well, why didn’t you say that first? That’s a new sighting! Who told her that?”
“A bloke in the Neptune who wouldn’t give his name. Dave Harman might be able to help.”
“Unlikely—the drugs case has gone tits up. His son has withdrawn his statement. He’s got a new solicitor who says he wasn’t in a fit state to be interviewed.”
“Oh, dear.”
“He’s as guilty as sin but we’ll have to start again to build a case. He was helping set up the bars that night and we’re reinterviewing the others working with him—one of them is of interest, actually. Liam Eastwood. Do you know him?”
“Eastwood? Sadly, I think he might be married to my cleaning lady. Is he a plumber?”
“That’s him.”
“Shit! I’m going to end up looking for a new cleaner, aren’t I? Just when I’ve got used to Dee. Actually, Liam Eastwood’s been working for the Perrys. I saw one of his trade boards up at the crime scene.”
“Yes, I clocked that too, thank you. But it’s the conspiracy to supply MDMA that brought him to our attention.”
“Go on.”
“His name was on the Brighton boys’ radar. A user but he hung around with some of the dealers. We had him in for questioning on day one of the inquiry but he said he hadn’t had any contact with his Brighton mates for years. Not since leaving the town. Said he was stupid when he was younger, experimenting. But we’re hearing different from people in Ebbing. He’s boasted about more recent drug taking in the pub, apparently. We’re having a closer look. I’ll pass the sighting of Charlie on to the boss. Got to go. See you later.”
“Okay, but when are we having a press conference? It’s twenty-four hours since the body was found and these rumors are building while we’re saying nothing.”
“We? Don’t worry. The boss is doing one in the next half hour, so it’ll be on the local news.”
“I’ll be watching.”
Thirty-three
TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2019
Elise
The light bounced off the whiteboard like an aura behind Hugh when he sat behind his desk.
There was a buzz in the room where the press conference was being held when he walked in and the cameras started clicking. It always made Elise smile when that happened to her. Why were they bothering? A hundred shots of police officers taking their seats. Was it just for their bosses watching in the newsrooms? To prove they were working?
It’s like those idiots who shout pointless questions at politicians as they walk past, she thought.
“Are you going to resign, Prime Minister?”
“Did you lie to the select committee?”
Just noise.
Hugh cleared his throat like he always did when he was nervous. He looked up at the cameras and she was suddenly looking into his eyes. She prickled with embarrassment for a second.
It was all textbook stuff. Hugh appealed for witnesses to Charlie Perry’s last movements—“How and when did Mr. Perry get home? Did anyone give him a lift the night of the festival? Or at any time over the weekend? Or see him walking?”
Kiki Nunn was in the second row of chairs. She had her back to the cameras but Elise recognized the glasses perched like a cat’s ears on her head. She waited while the local TV and papers asked their questions, then piped up: “Hi, I’m from Sussex Today. DI Ward, do you know how Charles Perry died? Was he murdered?”
“Er, we are still investigating the exact circumstances of this unexplained death.”
“Okay, do you know when he died?”
Hugh looked blank for a moment. What is going on with you? Elise said to herself. You’re sharp as a tack normally.
“Erm, no, not precisely,” he stuttered. “Our last confirmed sighting is Friday night at around nine thirty, at the festival, but the deceased’s wife said she had a brief phone call from a man she believed was her husband early Monday morning,” Hugh got back into his stride. “The caller said he was okay but gave no details of his whereabouts.”
“So just a couple of hours before his body was found?” Kiki was like a terrier with a bone but Elise knew she was asking all the right questions.
“As I say”—Hugh tried to wrench the bone off her—“the Home Office pathologist is continuing to work on time of death but it’s a complex calculation because of the temperatures we’ve been experiencing—it was quite hot on Saturday and Sunday—and the circumstances in which we found the body.”