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‘Thank you.’

‘We were told to ask for Superintendent Allott,’ said Louise.

They were kept waiting long enough to work out how to use the coffee machine, before being shown into a vacant interview room, a large cardboard box sitting on the table.

‘There’s the main bit of the file, Sir,’ said a tall officer, his shirt untucked. ‘And there are eight more boxes downstairs.’ He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself either. ‘Take as long as you want. The super will be along in a few minutes to have a chat.’

‘Thank you.’ Dixon had questions, but there was no point wasting his breath just yet.

‘No questions for him, Sir?’ asked Louise, when the officer had gone.

‘He’d have been at school when the ballroom went up in flames, Lou.’

Louise opened the box and took out several bundles of witness statements, dropping them on the table. ‘No shortage of witnesses,’ she said. ‘All the hotel guests, staff, local residents. It’ll take days to wade through this lot.’

‘See if you can find the arson investigator’s report and the defendant’s interviews,’ said Dixon.

‘They’ll let us copy them, I expect.’

‘Don’t bother with that. We’ll be taking the file with us.’

‘Really?’

Two loud knocks, then the door opened. ‘Detective Superintendent Allott.’ Hand outstretched. ‘I see you’ve found the coffee machine.’

‘I thought it was chicken soup,’ replied Dixon, putting on his best chatty, amenable self.

‘Tastes a bit like it, I’ll give you that.’

‘Are there any officers left who were involved in the original investigation?’ he asked, gesturing to the box that Louise was still rummaging through.

‘Only me,’ replied Allott. ‘I was a DC back then and it was pretty much my first case in Devon; spent the whole time taking statements from people who’d seen nothing relevant, if I remember rightly.’ He sat down at the table and leaned back in the chair, his hands behind his head. ‘It was an open and shut case, really. We nicked the bloke at the scene, he confessed – the information he gave fitted with the arson investigator’s assessment – and that was that. Life with a minimum of eighteen years, which was a bit light perhaps, but what can you do?’

‘Who was the SIO?’

‘DCS Campbell, although he wasn’t a chief super back then, just a super.’ Allott checked his watch. ‘Retired now; he’ll be on the beach with his dog, and then, come eleven o’clock, you’ll find him in the Paignton Club, playing snooker. In the meantime, you’re welcome to use the photocopier next door.’

Here we go.

‘We’ll be taking the file with us,’ replied Dixon. ‘After all, we’re working together on a regional task force, aren’t we? I know that both chief constables are keen to see collaboration, and all that.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Not just that we are collaborating, but that we’re being seen to be collaborating.’

‘No, but—’

‘And it’s not as if there’s any suggestion of anything amiss with the original Devon and Cornwall investigation. Merely that what happened that night is behind the motive for these killings.’

‘I’m still not sure I can let the file go.’

‘Well, you’re not, are you? It’s staying within the regional task force, of which Devon and Cornwall currently represents half.’

Allott looked nervously at Louise. ‘Could we have the room, please?’ he asked.

Dixon stifled a sigh. Another one watching too much American telly. He was tempted to ask Allott if he wanted a coffee, just to see if he said, ‘I’m good.’

‘Look,’ said Allott, when Louise closed the door behind her. ‘Our ACC is nervous about bad publicity for us.’

‘Our ACC’s a bit like that. I think it’s in their job description.’

‘There was a lot of unpleasantness in the town in the aftermath of the fire and he’s really keen to see that’s not raked up again. Particularly with what’s going on at the site. And Rodwell’s due out any day now.’

‘Is there something I need to know?’ asked Dixon.

‘Not specifically. It just never looks good for a force when an old case is being picked apart, whatever the reason.’

Dixon got the distinct impression Allott was lying about something, or hiding something. ‘I’ve got four murders, and the only time the victims’ paths crossed in the last twenty years was at that bridge competition. All I can say is, I’m going to go over it, and I’m going to do that whether you let me take the file or not.’

Allott was sucking his teeth, running his tongue under his top lip, the movement exaggerated by his moustache. Then he reached forward and pushed the box across the table towards Dixon. ‘Take it,’ he said. ‘I’ll have the other boxes brought up. Read Rodwell’s first interview, the one I conducted. He went “no comment” to the others after that.’ Allott stood up and turned for the door. ‘And you didn’t hear that from me.’



Chapter Twenty-Three

‘A green Barbour and a black lab, Allott said.’ Louise was standing on Paignton seafront, her eyes scanning along the beach; not that there was much, the tide almost up to the sea wall, cramming the dog walkers into a strip no more than five yards wide.

Dixon had parked on the double yellow lines and was reading Rodwell’s police interviews; three in total. He’d flicked through the second and third, all answers ‘no comment’, even to the question asking him to confirm his full name for the tape.

A solicitor had been present, which was the main difference. ‘My client has made his position clear and will not be answering any more questions.’

Are sens

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