Elizabeth waves this away. ‘We’re all taxpayers, aren’t we? Anything you can tell me? Any suspects at the time?’
‘Mmm,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘Are you familiar with police procedure?’
‘Very,’ says Elizabeth.
Andrew Everton starts to tap a pen on his desk. ‘And does this conversation feel like it tallies with police procedure? Given what you know?’
‘Here’s what I think,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I think you’re the Chief Constable of Kent. I think you could probably tell me all sorts of things if you chose to. I also think you failed to close the Bethany Waites case –’
‘Not me personally,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘To be fair. I was a smaller cog in those days.’
‘Quite so,’ agrees Elizabeth. ‘But a high-profile case, still unsolved. I’m offering you some help, and it feels only fair that you offer me help in return.’
‘What help are you offering me?’
‘We’ll get to that in good time,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You’ll know that Heather Garbutt is dead. Was she your prime suspect?’
‘She was a suspect,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘Again, what help can you give me? What do you know that I might not?’
‘And Jack Mason?’ asks Elizabeth. ‘Another suspect?’
‘We spoke to him,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘He had an alibi, but he’s not the type of man to do the deed himself, so it was fairly meaningless. I don’t quite understand why we are having this conversation?’
‘Anyone else?’ asks Elizabeth. ‘Anyone we’re missing?’
‘Who is we?’
‘My friends and I,’ says Elizabeth. ‘People you would like. I believe you’ve met Ibrahim, for instance.’
‘Ah, yes,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘Ibrahim Arif. A friend of Connie Johnson?’
‘A professional acquaintance of hers,’ says Elizabeth. ‘We have fingers in pies, Chief Constable. I am sure you would find us useful.’
Andrew Everton is weighing her up. Elizabeth has seen it countless times before. People trying to get the measure of her. It’s a fruitless endeavour.
‘OK,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘I’ll bite. Does Connie Johnson have anything to say about Heather Garbutt’s death? Is that information that you have?’
‘She thinks Heather Garbutt was frightened of someone,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Well, with respect we could gather that much from the note; that’s not new information,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘I’ll need better than that. Did she say who?’
‘I’m afraid that is information I don’t have. But you’ll be delighted to hear I can help you with the note,’ says Elizabeth. ‘It wasn’t real.’
‘Wasn’t real?’ Elizabeth sees Andrew Everton think this through, working the angles. Experience tells her he is no fool. He might actually be useful to them.
‘She didn’t write it?’ Andrew Everton still looks confused. ‘Then who did?’
‘We’re working on that,’ says Elizabeth. ‘But until then I have a different question for you. Where do you think the money is? If we can’t find Bethany Waites’s body, can we at least find the money?’
‘You’re aware we did try,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘We’re not bumpkins. We had forensic accountants go through every page of every file. They covered their tracks.’
Elizabeth laughs. ‘Honestly, we’ve found out more about the money in two weeks than you did in your whole investigation.’