“What?” Elise says.
I hesitate, just long enough for her to lean forward to push me. Letting her think she’s got the power.
“About the Sunday after Charlie went missing. The night you say Charlie died. I don’t know where Liam was that night, or when he came home, so it might have been him in the van. We’re sleeping separately, you see. Things have been tense at home—he’s been very jumpy lately, what with Charlie owing him all that money and then the drugs investigation.”
Elise is lapping it up and I hope it’ll mean Liam is kept in custody. Just long enough for me to get away. She takes me through the whole thing again and then smiles at me.
“Thank you, Dee. I know how hard this must have been for you.”
“Okay. But I need to go home now to pick up Cal—and our things. While Liam is being questioned. I’ve got to make arrangements.”
“Of course—I’ll give you a lift if you like.”
I try to smile my thanks but it’s the last thing I need. I want to be on my own to plan my next move.
Sixty-five
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2019
Elise
Caro has got her confession from Liam by the end of play.
“He broke down and cried like a baby. Said it was a stupid practical joke that had gone wrong. That no one was supposed to take them,” Caro told Elise afterward. “Ade Harman planted them in a bag Pete Diamond was carrying around that night—but after Ade collapsed, Liam went and found them to make sure no one else took any and hid them in his van. When he got home, he says, he pushed them under the kennel until the fuss died down and he could get rid of them.”
“And lying about his whereabouts on the Sunday?”
“He says he panicked when he said Dee could confirm it but claims everything else he said was the truth. And at the moment, we’ve got no forensic evidence to put him in the basement.”
“Not yet. But tests are still ongoing.”
“Okay, but in the meantime I think Dave Harman is ready to talk, boss,” Caro said.
“Great,” Elise said.
The pub landlord and his legal adviser were seated side by side, heads together, when the detectives marched in. No sliding into chairs, feeling their way, winning confidence this time.
“Mr. Harman,” Caro said, “we have evidence that you bought one hundred tablets of MDMA from a known dealer in Brighton and that you were part of a conspiracy to supply those drugs at the Diamond Festival.”
“No comment,” Dave said, his face porridgy gray with fear.
“Liam Eastwood introduced you to the dealer, didn’t he?”
“No comment.”
“And you conspired with Mr. Eastwood and your son, Adrian, to smuggle the tablets into the festival?”
“I am not a drugs dealer!” Dave Harman banged a hand on the table, spilling water from a plastic cup.
“You did this in order to get the festival shut down, didn’t you?”
“No comment.” Spit was gathering in the corners of his mouth.
“In order to plant the drugs on Pete Diamond.”
There was a beat of silence. “No comment.”
“What is your evidence that my client had anything to do with this conspiracy?” the solicitor said. “An earlier accusation against his son was dropped after the police acted improperly in interviewing a vulnerable witness—”
“We have recovered a number of MDMA tablets,” Elise addressed Dave directly, “and we have a new witness.”
Dave Harman groaned and put his meaty hands on the table.
“Liam?” he said.
Elise nodded. “Mr. Eastwood has made a full admission to his part in the conspiracy.”
The solicitor whispered something urgently into Harman’s ear but he shook his head. “It’s over. We need to sort this out.”
* * *
—
Elise and Caro stepped out to allow the solicitor to take fresh instructions, and walked back to the incident room. On the way, Caro was stopped by a uniform in the corridor and was grinning when she hurried to catch up with Elise.
“Shouldn’t laugh but we’ve just been called to a punch-up at the statics. Seems Pete Diamond discovered his daughter was still visiting. He went up there and got hold of the lad she’s been sleeping with and someone called the police. They’re on their way in.”
“God, I’m glad I don’t have kids,” Elise said before she could stop herself.
Caro gave her a look but didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to treat myself to a proper posh coffee,” Elise went on. “Do you want one? We deserve it.”