‘I understand your position,’ says Ibrahim. ‘That is admirably clear. I see why people like you. I see why you are Chief Constable. In America they sometimes vote for their chiefs of police, did you know that? It’s one of many idiosyn–’
‘So I’m going to ask you politely, one more time,’ interrupts Andrew Everton. ‘Why were you visiting Connie Johnson, and what did you speak about?’
Ibrahim drums his fingers on the arm of his sofa. ‘You place me in a quandary, Andrew. If I might still call you Andrew?’
Andrew Everton nods, and takes a sip of his tea.
‘You see, when I have a client,’ says Ibrahim, ‘everything we speak about is covered by patient-confidentiality laws.’
‘She is your client?’ asks Andrew Everton.
‘Well, that’s just it,’ says Ibrahim. ‘At the start of the meeting she wasn’t. But by the end of the meeting she was. So where does that leave us? Can I tell you what I spoke about, or can I not? Is the confidentiality retrospective, as it were? A thorny one, Andrew, no?’
‘A thorny one,’ nods Andrew. ‘Let me see if I can help with your dilemma.’
‘You are most kind,’ says Ibrahim.
‘The gentleman you were sitting with in the reading …’ says Andrew Everton.
‘Ron,’ says Ibrahim.
‘I also saw him on the television,’ says Andrew Everton, ‘so I’m aware you’re close. You will know, as I do, that today a pungent air of cannabis hung about him.’
‘I will take your word for that,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Ron always smells of something.’
‘You’ll also know that searches for cannabis in my force, and in most other forces, disproportionately fall on young black men. Something I have tried to address in the last few years, with some, if not enough success. So believe me it would really help my statistics if I were to sanction a drugs search on an old, white man. I can have officers in Ron’s flat within an hour.’
‘Goodness,’ says Ibrahim. ‘That’s very forthright.’
‘Would Ron like a team of officers rooting through his underwear?’
‘I don’t think anyone would like that,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Least of all the officers. But, also, I don’t think you’d do it. Ron would kick up a fuss, we’d all be there to take photos. I might even get our friend Mike Waghorn to take an interest. All too visible and messy, I think.’
Andrew Everton refuses to be outmanoeuvred. ‘Then your other friends. The ladies?’
‘Joyce and Elizabeth?’
‘You might be comfortable with a chief constable questioning you. Ron might take it in his stride. But two elderly women? How do you think the two of them would react if I decided to question them? Because if I have to, I will.’
Ibrahim laughs. ‘I wish you the very best of luck with that, Andrew. I must tell Elizabeth what you said – she will hoot. Of all the nuts to crack around here, I assure you I am very much the easiest.’
‘I need you to help me here, Ibrahim,’ says Andrew Everton.
Ibrahim leans forward. ‘Chief Constable. Andrew. I recognize it seems like I’m being obstructive. Really I understand that, and I can be very difficult at times. Unyielding, I was once described as. So I won’t be telling you what I have spoken to Connie Johnson about, and, assessing the situation as best I can, I don’t think you are particularly in a position to compel me to do so. But I can assure you that there is nothing that would concern you, and nothing that you need to worry about. Whether Connie Johnson is guilty or not is for the courts to decide. Whether she had some involvement with the death of Heather Garbutt, I doubt very much. But I can plainly assert to you that my chat with her, at the very least, was innocent.’