Lambert stood. ‘Want some water?’
Sackville shook his head, a look of disdain on his face.
‘So you have no idea who would do this?’
‘Listen, Lambert.’
Lambert paced the room, reluctant to say what had to be said. ‘What about Moira?’
Sackville tensed, colour spreading to his cheeks.
‘I need to ask. Did she have any enemies, Eustace?’
‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous.’
‘I need something, Eustace. If there isn’t a reason for this attack, if it was completely random, then we will never find out who did this to Moira. I need a motive.’
‘She was a bloody librarian.’
The man wasn’t listening. ‘Look, I’m sorry to ask this Eustace but do you know Charles Robinson?’
Sackville tensed again, and for one absurd moment Lambert thought he was about to spring at him. ‘That’s long finished,’ said Sackville, through gritted teeth.
‘So you know about him and Moira.’
‘Yes, I fucking know. She couldn’t hide her guilty conscience.’
‘When did it end?’
‘A couple of years ago.’
Lambert hid his surprise, remembering that Robinson had said it had ended a year ago. ‘Did you ever confront him?’
‘No, but then we were never in the same room together after I found out.’ Sackville took a swig of water. ‘Could do with something stronger,’ he said, wiping a drip from his face.
‘Does he know that you know?’
‘I imagine he fucking does, yes.’ Eustace scrunched his face, the memory of his wife’s infidelity somehow animating him more than her death. Something changed in his face, and he began pulling the covers from his bed. ‘Is that bastard a suspect?’ he said, trying to get to his feet, flailing on his back.
Lambert placed his hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on, get back to bed. Robinson has an alibi for the evening of the attack.’
Sackville pulled the covers back over, making an angry swipe of his hand across his tear filled eyes.
‘Let’s leave it for now, Eustace. Get some rest. Is there anyone I can contact for you?’
Sackville shook his head. ‘There’s no one,’ he said.
Devlin stopped her as she returned to the office. ‘You seen Lambert today?’
‘Just left him, why?’
‘I wanted to go through the CCTV footage with him.’
‘Well, you can go through it with me first,’ said Matilda. She liked the new DC, but on occasions he was a little too keen to show off his worth.
‘Not much to show unfortunately. No cameras face the front of the building. There is a camera in the apartment’s foyer. I edited all the frames which I thought of interest, and went through them with the concierge. Everyone is accounted for during the twenty-four hour period.’
Matilda frowned. They hadn’t expected anything but it was still a disappointment. ‘I don’t think you need to bother DCI Lambert with no news, do you?’
Devlin looked momentarily crestfallen. ‘No, Sarge.’
She took pity on him. ‘I need a name checked. Noel Whitfield.’ She handed him the piece of paper with the case name on it. ‘I need all details on this case. Thirty minutes?’
Devlin nodded as he rushed back to his desk.
She updated the file as she waited for Devlin. She thought about the adulterous barrister, and his panicked response to their investigation. She would have liked it to have been a sign of a guilty conscience, a way of distracting them from their investigation, but feared it was just a sign of the kind of man he was. They’d just informed him that his long-term lover had been brutally murdered, and his main concern was protecting himself.
‘Interesting case,’ said Devlin, returning with a case file twenty minutes later. ‘Serious cock-up by CPS in my opinion.’
‘Give me the highlights,’ said Matilda.
‘Whitfield, aged thirty, was charged with attempted murder. He’d broken in, and had been waiting in the residence of the alleged victim, Andrew Haynes. Haynes’ girlfriend, Rebecca Pritty, was present at the time. Whitfield was alleged to have tied both victims to two separate radiators in Haynes’ bedroom. He made the girlfriend watch as he tortured Haynes, and left him to die after repeatedly stabbing him in the torso.’
‘He survived?’
‘If you can call it surviving. Permanently disabled.’
‘And the girlfriend watched all this.’
‘She was Whitfield’s ex. He made her watch, no disguise, quite clear motive. He left her at the scene. Fortunately, a neighbour heard their screams early on and they got Haynes to hospital in time.’
‘What happened in court?’ asked Matilda, thinking she already knew the answer.
‘Whitfield was represented by a Mr…’ Devlin looked at his notes.
‘Charles Robinson?’
Devlin tilted his head. ‘Yes. Robinson found a number of discrepancies in the evidence gathering. The judge reluctantly declared there was no case to answer. Gave CPS a complete dressing down.’
‘What about Whitfield since?’
‘He was sectioned for a time but was released. He’s been clean since. Last known address is over in Finchley.’
‘And Haynes?’
‘He went into psychiatric care for a time. Girlfriend left him. Last we know of him he’s living with his brother in an estate in Tottenham.’
‘Good summary, Devlin.’
Devlin couldn’t hide his pleasure, a broad smile filling his face. ‘Is it worth pursuing?’
‘We’ll have to tick the boxes now just in case. Sounds like an isolated incident to me. Try to locate Whitfield but don’t approach him without speaking to me. I’ll run it past Lambert.’
She read through the files Devlin had printed, looking for any discrepancies he may have missed, but came up blank. It took a great leap to link the Whitfield case with Sackville. Unless there was a clear link between him and either of the Sackvilles then it was difficult to see the cases being related unless it was pure coincidence.
She logged into The System, and ran differing routines matching the Sackvilles, Whitfield and Haynes, but no link was evident. She decided to wait until Devlin located Whitfield. It was too tenuous a link to bother pursuing at present.
She took lunch in the canteen, finding a small spot which overlooked the river. She glanced at the newspaper in front of her as she took mouthfuls of jacket potato but couldn’t concentrate on the text. She kept replaying the case in her head. She’d thought so much about it in the last few hours, that it was as if she’d witnessed the incident. She had her own video of what happened in her head, and it followed what Eustace Sackville had told Lambert. A lone intruder, forcing the woman to cuff her husband then being cuffed herself. She pictured the man cutting Moira Sackville, could hear the sound of the knife tearing at her flesh.
Matilda understood this way of thinking was dangerous. For all they knew