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for the whole weekend.’

‘You’re wasting my time, going over what we’ve already discussed.’ Andrea scowled in her direction.

‘I wanted to get your movements clear in my head because it’s actually slightly confusing. You say you spoke to Witherspoon on the Friday, yet Dunkley says it was the Monday.’

‘One of us must have got it wrong,’ Andrea said.

Birdie pulled out the sheets of paper from the file and held them up. ‘I have here the call log from Donald's phone. According to this, he didn't speak to you on the Friday, or the Monday. He spoke to you on the Sunday. The one day when we know categorically that Dunkley couldn’t have heard because you were here and he was in London. So, how did he find out?’ She paused and locked eyes with Andrea, but she wouldn’t maintain the contact and looked away.

‘What does it matter? He’s admitted killing Witherspoon and said I didn’t know a thing about it,’ Andrea said.

‘You know why it matters. What I think happened is that, knowing Dunkley would do anything for you, you asked him to sort out Witherspoon to stop the blackmail. You knew that if you paid him for the second time, there would probably be a third and fourth and if you refused he’d put the film in the public domain. You had no choice but to ask Dunkley to kill him’

‘No. No. That’s not what happened. I didn't ask Aaron to kill him. I just asked him to make it stop. I …’

Gotcha

‘And you didn't think for a moment that make it stop meant he would kill him?’

‘No, I didn't. At the time I thought Aaron would warn him. Like he did with that Clifton chap …’ Her face visibly sagged.

‘That leads me onto the next thing, Clifford.’ Birdie said, accentuating his correct name. ‘He was attacked by Dunkley and another male. From what you’ve said, I take it that you authorised it.’

The solicitor whispered to Andrea and then faced Birdie. ‘I’m instructing my client to refrain from answering further questions.’

It didn’t matter, Birdie had got what she needed.

‘Andrea Wood, I’m arresting you for being an accessory to the murder of Donald Witherspoon, and an accessory in the grievous bodily harm to Sebastian Clifford. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’ Andrea just stared at her. ‘I repeat, do you understand?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘You will be escorted to the custody suite where you will be officially charged and dealt with,’ Sarge said.

After the prisoner was taken away, Birdie and Sarge headed back upstairs.

‘We've done it,’ she said, unable to stop her smile which went from ear to ear.

‘I was very impressed at the way you handled the interview and your whole input into the case.’

‘Thanks, Sarge. But let's not forget Clifford. Without him we wouldn't have even known there was a murder to solve.’

‘I suppose you're right,’ he said gruffly. ‘But I still don't like private investigators, if that's what he is now, interfering.’

She wasn't going to say anything as she didn't want to get in his bad books again.

‘I’ve got some paperwork to do, and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, Sarge,’ she said as they reached the door to his office.

‘Yeah, that’ll be the day,’ he replied, rolling his eyes.

Chapter 45

22 May

‘Let’s go,’ Birdie said to Seb as she came out of the station and saw him sitting on the bench outside. ‘It’s my treat.’

She still felt guilty about the way he’d been treated by Sarge yesterday. There was no need for her boss to have been so blunt. If it hadn’t been for Seb, the case would’ve gone unsolved.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To the pub for something to eat. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’

‘I wouldn’t say no to something to eat either. Whose car?’

‘It will have to be yours as I doubt you’d even get one leg in mine. It’s not called a Mini for nothing. You can drop me back here later.’

She directed him to a pub on the outskirts of town.

‘Is this one of your locals?’ he asked, as they parked outside the old pub.

‘Lots of pubs are my local,’ she said, flashing him a smile. ‘As you already know.’

They headed to the bar, and she picked up two menus, passing him one.

‘I’m going for a Caesar salad,’ he said.

‘Don’t be boring. The steaks here are to die for. Trust me.’ He nodded his acceptance of her decision and she turned to the girl behind the bar who she knew. ‘Meg, please could you get us two steak and chips. Medium rare for me, and …’ She glanced at Seb.

‘Same for me.’

‘Plus, half a cider and a pint of stout?’

‘That’s thirty-eight pounds,’ Meg said.

Birdie reached into her handbag which was hanging over her shoulder and pulled out her purse. She rummaged through the cards which were all in a zipped section. ‘Crap,’ she muttered.

‘Problem?’ Seb asked.

‘You’re not going to believe this. I’ve only gone and left my card at home. Again. Could you—’

‘Pay? Of course I will. I’ve subsidised your food every day so far since I’ve been here, so once more won’t hurt.’

‘Look, I’m really sorry. I truly meant—’

‘I’m joking,’ he said, holding up both hands. ‘I don’t mind.’ He opened his wallet, took out a credit card, and paid.

They took their drinks to a table towards the back of the room, under the window.

‘Seriously, I owe you one,’ she said after they’d sat down. ‘I really had intended to buy you a meal, to thank you for everything.’

She was back in Sarge’s good books and there’d been no more mention of her having to sit behind the desk. In fact, he’d even consulted her on a spate of carjackings they were currently investigating.

‘Call it my farewell meal.’ He held up his glass and clinked it against hers.

‘I’m

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