Page 74 of Final Betrayal

‘When did you last see Louise Gill?’

He hesitated. ‘Ten years ago.’

‘You don’t seem so sure.’

‘I’m sure.’ His eyes bored through her. ‘Either charge me or let me go. You don’t have jack shit on me.’

She had to admit he was right on that score. But she wasn’t letting him off that lightly.

‘I want a DNA sample. I want your fingerprints and I want a list of everywhere you’ve been and everyone you met since last Saturday.’

‘And I want my solicitor.’

She had to leave Dowling in a holding cell while the solicitor was being contacted, so she cornered Boyd and drove to the Gill residence.

The Gills lived in a modern mansion situated on a hill overlooking the town. Belinda Gill led them into what she called the reception room. The ceiling was high and white. The walls, decorated in deep red paint, looked as though someone had emptied a truck of blood down them and walked away. Expensive-looking paintings were dotted here and there, but it was the furniture that caught Lottie’s attention. She threw a look at Boyd, who turned up his nose.

‘Junk?’ he whispered.

‘It’s all antique,’ Belinda said, catching sight of Lottie’s interest. Lottie hoped she hadn’t heard Boyd’s comment. ‘The rest of the house is modern and bright, but Cyril allowed me to indulge in my love of auctions. In my opinion, the contents of this room are worth more than the house itself.’

Lottie wondered if Belinda had been informed of Louise’s murder. The woman wasn’t displaying any signs of grief, though her eyes were glazed and her voice was slightly slurred. She was wearing stained jeans, and her shirt was buttoned up incorrectly. Her short hair appeared unwashed, her skin pale. She might have been pretty once, but now she looked lined and haggard despite the fact that she couldn’t be more than fifty years old.

‘You’re here about Louise, I gather.’

‘Yes,’ Lottie said. ‘You heard the news?’

‘I did.’

‘I’m so sorry for your loss. Is your husband home? Would you like him to be present while we talk?’

Belinda’s laugh cut through the air and rebounded off the ceiling. ‘I don’t need Cyril for anything. Do you know, I was out shopping when he phoned me to tell me our daughter was dead? That slimeball is afraid of his own shadow.’

‘He phoned you?’ Lottie didn’t know what to say. What type of a man did that to his wife? Not a very nice one, she surmised.

‘Would you like a drink?’

Before Lottie or Boyd could answer, Belinda had crossed to the distressed-looking cabinet beside the enormous wrought-iron fireplace. She poured herself a large gin, no mixer.

‘Nothing for us,’ Lottie said. ‘We’re on duty.’

Belinda returned and sat down. ‘I drink. There. Got that out of the way. I’m an embarrassment to Cyril. Says I damage his reputation in the business world. He drinks too, but there’s not a word about that. He makes up the rules as he goes along.’

She tipped her glass towards Boyd and downed it in one go. ‘Be a good man and get me a refill.’

Lottie caught Boyd’s bewildered glance and nodded for him to go ahead.

‘Mrs Gill … May I call you Belinda?’

‘Of course you can. I’ve been called everything from bitch to whore in this house. Be nice to be called by my name for once.’

‘Belinda,’ Lottie said softly, ‘is Cyril here?’

‘No. He’s at work. Where else do you think he’d be? That project means more to him than his own flesh and blood. What happened to Louise?’

Lottie couldn’t believe the detachment in the woman’s voice. It was like it hadn’t registered with her that her daughter was dead.

‘I’m afraid we suspect she was murdered, though it has yet to be confirmed by the state pathologist. Can you tell me how she was behaving recently? Did you notice anything unusual or concerning?’

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