Page 108 of Marble Hall Murders

‘Yes.’

‘Were they male or female?’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t give you that information.’

‘Well, they’re lying to you. The car was parked outside this house all night. It would be there now if you hadn’t taken it.’

‘So how do you explain the damage to the grille and the forensic evidence?’ Wardlaw asked.

‘There can only be one explanation,’ I replied. ‘Someone is trying to incriminate me.’

‘You mean, someone came across the body in Kingston Street, recognised who it was and knew about his connection with you. They snipped a piece of bloody cloth off his jacket, then came out to Crouch End, found your car, kicked in the grille and planted the evidence. Is that what you’re saying?’ DC Wardlaw had done her best to make the proposition sound absurd and, to be honest, it hadn’t been difficult.

‘Exactly,’ I said.

Wardlaw sniffed.

‘Who do you think would want to do that?’ Blakeney asked.

‘It could be the killer Eliot named in his book, but it could also be anyone working for the Crace Estate. I’ve been thinking about it. This isn’t just about an unpleasant family withsecrets they want to bury. It’s about a television and publishing deal worth literally hundreds of millions of pounds. When the stakes are that high, you’ll agree that people will go to extraordinary lengths.’ I glanced at Wardlaw. ‘And what may seem unlikely may be worth the risk.’

‘The last time we came here, you spun us a story about Eliot Crace revealing a murder in his book,’ she reminded me.

‘Concealing it, not revealing it. Yes, that could also be the reason someone killed him. But I didn’t have any reason at all. I liked him.’

‘He had just humiliated you in front of two hundred guests,’ Wardlaw reminded me.

‘I could live with that.’

‘And there was also that altercation at Boon’s,’ she continued. I had to admit, the two of them were fast movers. ‘Another argument – in which you accused him of assaulting his wife.’

‘It was true. He had.’

‘According to the people who were in the room, it turned into a shouting match. I don’t suppose you remember the last two words you spoke?’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

‘You told him to drop dead.’

‘He said much worse to me.’

‘You’re still alive.’

There was no answer to that. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I admit it doesn’t look good. But we talked about CCTV cameras. I went into Highgate tube station at around eight o’clock and arrived at Leicester Square about forty minutes later. You must have picked up an image of me somewhere.’

Blakeney shook his head. ‘We’re still looking, but you might as well know that one of the cameras at Highgate station was broken. If anyone had gone down the central stairs instead of taking the escalator and then stood at the right end of the platform, they’d have been invisible.’

‘What about the ANPR?’ That was one acronym I wasn’t going to forget.

‘Nothing there either, but I already explained, there are ways to get around it. We’ve had suspects fiddle with their number plates. You can turn an E into an F with black tape. Or an eight into a three. It’s not that difficult. If we find your MG was on the road somewhere between here and Kingston Street, then we will arrest you.’

‘You should admit what you’ve done,’ Wardlaw said. ‘You’ll make it much easier on yourself.’

‘That’s enough.’ Blakeney turned to his assistant. ‘You go and wait in the car. I’d like a quiet word with Ms Ryeland.’

Wardlaw looked annoyed, but she didn’t argue. ‘I need a cigarette,’ she announced, as if that was the only reason she was leaving. She sloped out, banging the door behind her.

Blakeney sat in silence for a few moments after she’d gone. When he looked up at me, he was almost apologetic. ‘Wardlaw is a good police officer,’ he said. ‘She may seem aggressive, but she’s got nothing against you.’