Mr Hammel frowns and stares at the detective. ‘You live at Rosemore Cottage, right?’
‘That’s right, but you knew that already.’
‘I used to own that pile of bricks, you know.’
The detective nods. ‘I’m aware.’
‘Fancy a cuppa?’
Stephen and the detective swap glances before Stephen nods. ‘Thank you, yes.’
Mr Hammel unbolts the gate and pushes it open. They enter the yard and follow him towards the farmhouse with the dog, Barney, scurrying behind.
‘I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us, Mr Hammel,’ says Stephen as he steps across the threshold and into the building. The trio walk straight into a quaint farmhouse-style kitchen, complete with a log burner, an Aga and a large island. The warmth immediately defrosts Stephen’s chilly hands, and his head begins to feel better, clearer.
‘Call me Frank. Take a seat.’ Frank gestures to a nearby chair. ‘Tea?’
‘Please. Milk, no sugar.’
The detective nods, but says nothing. Stephen is sure the detective is finding Frank’s avoidance of his direct questioning infuriating, but they are here for answers, and if that means they have to go at Frank’s pace, then so be it. If there’s one thing Stephen has learned during his journalism career, it’s that people will talk when they’re ready. Not before. No matter how hard you push them.
Frank grabs an old-fashioned kettle, fills it with water and places it on the stove to heat up. Barney makes himself comfortable in his dog bed next to the Aga.
‘So … why do you want to know about Sophia?’ he finally asks, proving Stephen’s theory is correct.
‘First, I’d like you to answer the question as to whether she’s missing or not,’ replies the detective. ‘We’ve been getting a lot of mixed messages.’
Frank doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a deep breath and folds his arms across his chest. Stephen is no body language expert, but even he knows that the man is being confrontational and defensive.
‘She didn’t disappear,’ he says quietly. ‘She was killed.’
Chapter 31
STEPHEN
Stephen struggles to hide his surprise at how bluntly Frank had spoken.
‘And you know that for a fact, do you?’ Stephen asks. He has to tread carefully because he’s known for putting his foot in it at the worst possible time, and the last thing he wants or needs is for Frank to turn against him. Perhaps he needs a lesson in tact from the detective sometime, but his forward approach has won him more battles than he’s lost, so that’s a plus in his book.
Frank appears to consider his answer carefully, rubbing his thick, greying beard for several seconds before replying, ‘No, not for a fact, but what Idoknow for a fact is that Sophia wouldn’t have run away. Therefore, she must be dead.’
‘You don’t think there’s a chance she was kidnapped?’
Another long pause. ‘No.’
Stephen wonders what’s going through Frank’s mind right now. The long pauses mean he knows the answer to the questions, but is trying to think of the correct way to say it without giving away too much. That’s what Stephen assumes, anyway.
‘Can I ask why you think she’s dead though?’ he asks. ‘As far as we’re aware, there was no news story about her disappearance and a body has never been found. No one in the village seems to be concerned with her whereabouts.’
At the mention of the wordbody, Frank flinches, almost as if he’s been slapped across the face.
The kettle whistles, signalling the water has reached boiling point. Stephen is patient while Frank pours the water and makes the tea. He moves at a slow pace, not in any hurry.
Stephen glances at the detective who mouths, ‘Tread carefully.’
Stephen nods in response, glad the detective is allowing him to lead this part of the interview. Stephen used to scribble notes in a book while questioning people, but now he likes to give the subject his undivided attention. Stephen has a very good memory when it comes to recalling facts, except lately he has noticed a decline in this particular skill. Something he hopes is only temporary.
Frank places a cup in front of Stephen and another in front of the detective, then takes a seat opposite them again.
