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Chapter Six
The sergeant’sreply to Flynn’s message the previous evening had merely said they could discuss the prospect of him extending his stay in the morning. Of course, the discovery of the body in the harbour meant a change in priorities. With the busy morning, Flynn hadn’t even given it a thought, but it came to him when he took the sergeant a coffee at lunchtime.
“Thought you might be ready for a caffeine fix,” he said, setting it on his desk.
“Thanks. Are they here yet?”
With his mind elsewhere, Flynn squinted in confusion. “Who?”
“The friends of the deceased. They were supposed to come over at noon.”
“They’re not here yet.”
Sergeant Proctor checked his watch. “No time for lunch before they get here. We’ll get sandwiches once we’ve spoken to them.”
“Okay. Are you going to speak to them in here?”
“No. In the interview room. I’ll talk to each of the couples, then the other guy. I’m fairly sure we got all the information we need from them at the scene, but it can’t hurt to chatthrough things again, when they’ve had a bit of time to digest everything.”
Slowly, Flynn shook his head. “Presuming he fell straight after speaking to his son, it wouldn’t even have been that late. If someone had heard something and gone out to check, things might have been different.”
“I’m sure they’ll all be kicking themselves that they didn’t stay up longer. Too late for ‘what ifs’ now, though.”
“Yeah.” Flynn backed up to the door, deciding the conversation about making his position permanent would wait until tomorrow. “I’ll let you know when they arrive.”
“Thanks. I’d like you there when I speak to them.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Jeff can man the phone and the front desk. I’m sure we’re going to have lots of curious residents as word gets out.”
“Okay,” Flynn said slowly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I just thought you’d want Jeff with you.”
“You’re better at this sort of thing.”
Flynn opened his mouth, then closed it again.
The sergeant leaned onto his desk. “Is there a problem?”
“No. I just don’t want to cause any issues with PC Hill…”
“It’s fine. He’s happy manning reception. And he agreed you’re better at interviewing people. It makes sense to work to our strengths.”
“Great. Thanks.” Noise from the front of the building had him tilting his head. “That sounds like them now.”
Joyce Hughes fidgeted in her seat in the interview room. A constant stream of tears ran down her cheeks and the sound of tissue scraping every time she pulled another from the box was beginning to annoy Flynn.
“I just feel so terrible,” she said, after walking them through the events of the previous day. “If we’d have waited up for him, he’d still be alive. Why did we choose last night to go to bed early?” She directed the question at her husband, Keith, beside her.
“We weren’t to know,” he mumbled. “We were tired, so we went to bed. He’s a grown man. Of course, it didn’t occur to us to wait up for him.”
“But if we’d stayed up for another drink, Joseph might still be alive.”
The sergeant sat up straighter. “I’m afraid there’s no turning back the clock now. No sense in beating yourself up over what might have been.” He glanced down at his notes. “When you went to bed, your friends were still up. Is that correct?”