Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [42]
Goodhew followed him into the room immediately next to the front door. It was what makeover shows describe as ‘lacking an identity’: a study cum library, or TV room cum lounge. Or, equally, a goods-in cum charity collection point. It all depended on which corner you studied, but it had none of the pretentiousness evident in the Excelsior Clinic and looked to Goodhew like any ordinary student flat.
Richard sat at one end of a settee facing the door. Goodhew chose to sit at the other end. The house was silent and, although a steady stream of headlights passed the window, nothing disturbed the stillness with anything louder than a low hum.
‘You said you had plenty to ask?’
Richard nodded. ‘I’m glad you came. I thought I wouldn’t be able to speak to anyone this late, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep either – not with so many unanswered questions.’
Goodhew knew the feeling. ‘And these are regarding things that have come to mind since you gave your statement?’
‘Partially. In fact, I’d say they’ve been on my mind all along, but earlier I didn’t stop long enough to distil them into clear questions. But now I have. Firstly, I want to know why suspicion is falling on us.’
‘Us?’
‘Me, then. Me in particular.’
‘You shouldn’t assume it is, just—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Richard made a dismissive gesture. ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you? What makes you think Lorna wasn’t snatched by a stranger, or by some passing acquaintance?’
Sometimes it was useful to be able to call up a stock answer to such a question, because half the time, it was what a witness or victim expected to be told in any case, which in itself brought a feeling of calm. ‘Mr Moran, we are still only in the first hours of our investigation and nothing has been ruled out yet . . .’ One look at Richard’s sour expression told Goodhew that he’d misjudged it, but he plugged on with a second attempt. ‘There are many routine questions that we need to ask, and they aren’t intended to make you feel that you yourself are under any unreasonable suspicion, but obviously it’s important that we can construct an accurate picture of Lorna’s habits and her relationships.’
Richard’s sceptical expression hadn’t diluted, and Goodhew could sense that he wasn’t within a thousand miles of achieving the cathartic effect he’d hoped for. The silence hung awkwardly during a long pause.
‘Do you think I’m a dullard?’
Dullard? Goodhew found the word quaint, but had no trouble not smiling, especially since Richard’s mouth looked like it was stuffed with lemons. ‘No, of course not. What makes you think I’m not being straight with you?’
Richard’s eyes were still glassy, but they’d steadied enough to scrutinize Goodhew keenly. ‘It’s the problem of conventionality, I think. You people ask all the standard questions, to which I’ve been making all the standard replies, so then you come back with all the standard responses. Now I have questions myself, which I can’t ask without making it clear that I’ve been giving you a misleading picture. Do you see?’
‘In theory.’
‘And?’
Goodhew felt a surge of good luck sweep over him; now he had the chance to catch up on everything that had already been said and, probably, better it. He feigned a sigh and hoped he sounded cautious. ‘Any discrepancies need to be corrected as soon as possible, and therefore you may need to make a new statement – you understand that, don’t you?’
Richard nodded. ‘I just wanted to keep my privacy.’
‘But you were in a relationship with her?’
‘Oh, yes. That part’s true.’
‘What’s not, then?’
‘Nothing’s untrue, I just put some spin on it.’ He made a little snorting noise that was probably meant to be a laugh. It didn’t work, but did succeed in demonstrating what he looked like while toppling out of his fragile comfort zone – naked, and without hope of being thrown even the smallest pair of briefs.
Goodhew just waited.
Richard licked his lips, then finally committed himself with his opening gambit. ‘I was out of my depth