WPC Grant nodded slightly, doing a very good job of hiding her true feelings. Spence was impressed.
Felicity Davidson led Spence and WPC Grant into the lounge room. Spence enjoyed looking at the Turner prints.
“Inspector, this is my father, Alexander Brandis.”
Brandis held out his hand; his handshake was firm.
“Inspector. Grim business all round. What progress are you making?”
Spence gave the stock answer.
“It’s early days Mr Brandis but we are following several lines of inquiry. Mrs Davidson, I hope you don’t mind but we need to ask you some additional questions.”
“Of course, Inspector.”
“For god’s sake man, hasn’t my daughter been through enough? How many more times do you need to keep asking the same questions?”
Brandis was a man used to getting his own way.
“I’m sorry sir, Mrs Davidson, but when it’s murder, we have to check and double check.”
Spence was taken aback that he had actually called this pompous, self-important twat ‘sir’.
“Mrs Davidson, we have to ask you some personal questions.”
He paused for effect.
“Did you and your husband have a regular, healthy sexual relationship?”
“How dare you!! I think you had better go Inspector, and you can assume that I will be speaking to the Chief Constable about this.”
Brandis was starting to get red in the face and the veins on his forehead were working overtime. However, Spence had been in the game too long to be intimidated by the likes of Brandis.
“Very well sir. We will take Mrs Davidson to the station. I will arrange for the presence of a psychologist, you can organise your lawyer to be present, and, if you need Trevor’s number, here, save you having to look it up. He, Margaret and I had dinner last night. He is well acquainted with the case.”
Spence offered Brandis his phone, maintaining total eye contact. Brandis stepped back. Once again, Joanne Grant looked on in awe.
“Now I am sorry to have to delve into such personal things but it is important.”
“Is this to do with that Patel woman?”
Spence side-stepped the question.
“So Mrs Davidson, may I ask again-“
Felicity Davidson was suddenly transformed. The grief-stricken widow became the bitter, rejected wife.
“No Inspector, we did not. God knows how this happened.”
She pointed to her stomach.
“Roger showed no interest in me. And it wasn’t just the Patel woman; he had been, shall we say, lacking in interest for the best part of two years.”
Spence stayed quiet, allowing her to speak. Her bitterness prevented her from getting her words easily.
“He never touched me. He wore pyjamas even during those rare moments we were intimate, Inspector. I cannot even remember the last time I saw my husband naked.”
Spence realised that there was no need to delve into their sado-masochistic fun and games; they did not exist. After a few more questions of a less sensitive nature, Spence and WPC Grant took their leave. Spence told Joanne Grant that he would have liked to have stayed, just to see how Brandis took it all. They were soon in the car and heading back to the station. WPC Grant was awestruck.
“Did you really have dinner with the Chief Constable last night sir?”
Spence’s smile was broad.
“I’ve spoken six words to the Chief Constable WPC Grant on the two occasions we have met. ‘Good evening sir’ and ‘good evening sir’.”
They shared a discreet smile.
“We’re making progress Constable; that was an informative little chat. Mr Roger Davidson was into B and D. It didn’t stop him fooling around with Patricia Patel but it does seem to have put a damper on the marital conjugal relationship. I think we might have something here. I’m going to drop you off at the Station. Work with the others on past cases, see if something stands out.”
They did not speak until they returned to the station. Just as WPC Grant was getting out of the car, Spence finally spoke.
“I am visiting Woodlands. I’ll be gone a few hours. Oh, and WPC Grant, have you ever considered permanently switching to CID?”
Joanne Grant was taken aback. Spence smiled and drove off.
Spence realised that Robert Hamsby had quickly become more than just an old friend or a bit player in the current inquiry. He was becoming a reliable and trusted sounding board. Spence had no real friends in the force. He was respected, he enjoyed a drink or five with some of his colleagues, but there was nobody to whom he was close, in whom he could confide. Rediscovering Bob Hamsby had been one of the great strokes of good fortune which were rare in Spence’s life.
“I’ve got to be honest Bob; I am stuck on this one. I’m seeing Superintendent Marks tomorrow morning, and I have nothing to say.”
“What’s he like?”
“She. Tough, honest, fair and if she thinks you’re slacking she will let you know it. I like her. She cares about her job and looks after those under her. But I’m still likely to get a bollocking. Tell me about Roger Davidson and the school, his colleagues, the kids. Stream of consciousness stuff Bob, I don’t care how trivial you might think it is.”
Bob Hamsby spoke at length while Spence listened intently.
“I would say he was liked by most but not necessarily respected by most. You must have picked up that some of my staff did not think he was up to the job. He made a couple of slips, but I never doubted the wisdom of my choice of him for deputy. Not sure he had any really close friends, but no enemies either. He was pretty popular with the kids, I’ve even had parents try and get their son or daughter into his class.”
“What about Patricia Patel?”
“Umm. Well you know the details by now. That was finished as far as I know. How did your interview go with her?”
“Nothing surprising; and she is definitely out of the frame. She was shagging one of my senior colleagues on the evening that Roger Davidson was murdered.”
The joint laughter was spontaneous and ongoing. Hamsby then raised the issue of Felicity Davidson.
“Relations between Roger and his wife seemed strained to say the least. I guess his fling with the delightful Miss Patel would account for that. And it would appear she may not have been the first,” Spence added.
Spence continued.
“I know I can trust you Bob, and whatever I say is strictly entre nous.”
“Of course, Winston!”
“Their sex life was non-existent. The new baby was the result of a rare one-off. And there is something else. It would appear that Roger Davidson enjoyed a bit of kinky stuff. B and D.”
“Wow! Well, everyone’s private life is their own business, and from my perspective here, as long as it does not affect my school, I’m not really interested. If Roger Davidson wanted to get thrashed or Patricia Patel chooses to shag her way through the Wiltshire constabulary, who am I to object? Both good teachers. What did Felicity think of his unorthodox, extra-curricular activities?”
Spence smiled.
“She didn’t know?”
“So Bob, as far as you