Silent Voices

sure.’
    ‘Come on, Joey. Spit it out! You’re allowed to disagree with me. Every now and again.’
    ‘He’s good at playing the game, isn’t he? They had him in for questioning after the boy died. An interview at the station won’t be anything new to him. Probably not even very scary. He’ll make sure his solicitor’s there.’
    ‘What do you suggest then?’ She could hear the annoyance in her own voice. It’s all very well pulling holes in my ideas. More difficult to come up with a suggestion of your own.
    ‘What about taking him to his office at the Willows? That’ll inconvenience him, pull him out of his home just as he’s about to have his tea. While we’re picking him up, we can have a quick scout round the flat for evidence of Connie or the girl. It’ll be a neutral space, his office, but unsettling. I know he doesn’t keep any of his records there, but we can imply we have a specific reason for wanting to see it. Send him home in a taxi, and we’ll be . . .’
    ‘. . . almost in Barnard Bridge, to call in to Connie’s cottage before close of play.’ Vera grinned. ‘Eh, lad, I’ve taught you a couple of things at least while you’ve been working for me.’
    She decided to phone Morgan in advance to tell him they’d be collecting him. That would be more formal than just turning up on the doorstep. And phoning from her mobile from the end of his street, she’d see if he or Freya appeared suddenly with Connie and her daughter. Though that was never going to happen. Morgan might be a bastard, but he was too bright to keep them there.
    He was rattled by her insistence that they go to the Willows. ‘Is that really necessary, Inspector? There’s nothing at all to see.’
    ‘Of course we could always get a search warrant, if you’d prefer, Mr Morgan. That might take a few hours, though, and I wouldn’t really want to drag you out in the middle of the night.’
    He was alone in the flat. No Freya. When Ashworth asked, Morgan said she’d gone to a film with some friends. He tried to make out that he was pleased for her, but it sounded to Vera as if he was sulking about it. She asked to use the bathroom and had a sneaky look at the rest of the flat. One bedroom with a futon instead of a bed. Like sleeping, Vera thought, on a sheet of hardboard. Everything very clean and ordered. No room to hide a mouse. In the bathroom the towels were folded, the mirror shone. She couldn’t imagine Morgan taking his turn with the Hoover and wondered if that was down to Freya or a cleaner. If it were Freya, she’d be defecting soon enough without any intervention from outside.
    They drove to the Willows in complete silence. That was Vera’s idea. Morgan liked talking. It made him feel in control. Once, just as they came to the A69, he tried to start a conversation. ‘Has there been any development, Inspector?’
    But Vera responded immediately, breaking in before he’d finished the sentence. ‘We’ll leave that until we can talk properly, shall we?’
    During the drive she felt the tension rise in the man sitting behind her. At the Willows they made sure he was walking between them, not because they thought he’d try to escape, but to make him feel like a suspect. He used his electronic fob to get to the area closed to the public, and then again into the small room where he saw his patients.
    ‘Is that what you call them?’ Vera asked. They were sitting across a coffee table. There was a high bed against one wall, but these easy chairs must be where Morgan took the histories. She’d chosen the chair that she assumed he used. ‘Patients? Do you have any medical training?’
    ‘The training to become an acupuncturist is long and rigorous.’ He was determined not to be provoked, but he was finding it hard to keep the relaxed, amused tone he’d used with her before. There was a touch of petulance that made her want to cheer.
    ‘You’re not a doctor, though?’
    ‘Western medicine doesn’t have all the answers, Inspector.’
    ‘You’ll have heard about Danny Shaw.’ Changing the subject so abruptly that she saw Morgan blink. There wasn’t a seat for Ashworth and he stood, leaning against the door, blocking any escape. ‘Of course you will. No telly, I know, but it would have been in that fancy newspaper you read. No doubt about that. A second murder connected to the Willows. The press is loving it.’
    ‘It’s very sad,’ Morgan said, ‘but I can’t see what you think it might have