‘Actually, yes. I was just about to start canvassing the building before I was attacked.’
‘Canvassing?’
‘Yes. We’re hoping that somebody here will be able to supply us with some information.’
Scott watched as Hannah picked up a clipboard from the cushion next to her. He licked his lips, his mouth dry. He had a good idea of what was coming.
Hannah unclipped an envelope. Went to open the flap.
She’s going to pull out a photo, he thought. She’s going to show us a picture of Joseph Cobb and tell us that he’s been murdered. And then Daniel, our honest Daniel, will confess everything.
‘Er . . .’ Scott said. ‘If you don’t mind . . .’
Hannah stopped what she was doing. Looked inquiringly at him.
‘If this is about a crime, we try to keep Daniel out of things like that. Columbo and Morse are one thing, but when it’s real . . .’
Hannah smiled. ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
Scott turned to his son. ‘Daniel, would you mind going to your room, please?’
Daniel looked devastated. ‘Oh, but, Dad!’
‘No buts. We need to talk about something.’
‘But it’s not fair. I’m the one who—’
‘Daniel! Please.’
Daniel lowered his chin to his chest. Sloped off to his bedroom with heavy feet.
‘Sorry about that,’ Scott said. ‘He may not look it, but he’s quite sensitive.’
‘That’s all right. I understand. Now if I could just ask you to take a look at a photograph for me?’
Scott shrugged. ‘Sure.’
I don’t want to see this, he thought. I don’t want to look at that man’s face again. How has he come back to haunt me so quickly? How did the police find us?
Hannah slipped out the photograph and handed it over. Scott took it and tried to look without seeing. Tried to regard the image in front of him as a collection of printed dots that collectively meant nothing.
‘Have you ever seen that man?’ Hannah asked.
Scott shook his head, but the eyes on the sheet of paper were starting to make their presence felt, starting to burn into his skull. He looked away, focused on Hannah instead.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Can’t say I have. Who is he?’
‘His name’s Joseph Cobb. He’s a murder victim.’
‘Murder? God. Did he live in this building?’
‘No, but he visited someone here on Saturday afternoon, not long before he was killed. Are you sure you didn’t see him?’
‘Certain. I took Daniel to the cinema on Saturday afternoon, and when we got back we came straight up here and didn’t go out again. I don’t remember seeing anyone else in the building that day, not even the lads you saw earlier.’
He handed the photograph back. That was okay, he thought. I was convincing. I know I was.
But then Hannah looked past him towards the kitchen area.
‘Mrs Timpson? Would you mind taking a look at this, please?’
Scott watched Gemma’s unsteady progress across the room. She looked pale, on the verge of vomiting.
Keep it together, Gem. Don’t go to pieces on me now.
When his wife took the photograph, Scott noticed that her hand was shaking.
‘Does he look familiar to you at all?’ Hannah asked.
She pulled a face, shook her head. ‘Never seen him in my life.’
‘And neither of you were aware of any commotion in the building over the weekend? Nobody acting suspicious?’
Scott forced out a laugh. ‘This place is full of suspicious-looking people. Sorry we can’t help you, though.’
Hannah put the photograph away. ‘No problem. I can’t expect to strike lucky with the first people I ask.’ She winced again. ‘Probably the last ones I ask today as well, the way I’m feeling. You mind if I borrow your phone? I need to call my colleague.’
‘Of course not.’ Scott dug his mobile out of his pocket, unlocked it and handed it over. As the detective typed in a number, he exchanged glances with his wife. Gemma looked terrified.
