“Jack Mathers.”
“And I am DCI Blakelaw, here to observe,” Harry adds, and Sam notices Tina’s shoulders twitch. It’s clear that the Met’s newest DI does not want babysitting by her boss.
“Mr. Mathers—” Tina begins.
“Jack,” he says, but doesn’t try to force a smile.
“Jack. Just to remind you, this is a voluntary statement to help us with your niece’s homicide investigation. I know we’ve already taken a preliminary statement, but it’s standard practice for us to speak to key witnesses more than once in such cases. There may be some repetition today, but please believe that this is vitally important to the case.”
“OK,” he says. “Anything we can do to help you catch him, we’ll do.”
“Please begin by talking us through your movements on the night of Charlotte’s murder.”
Jack takes a deep breath. “I didn’t see Charlie—Charlotte—that day. She’d left for school before I came downstairs. I didn’t… get to say goodbye to her that morning. Jesus, how is this happening?” He breaks off, looking around the room.
“Where were you that evening, from five p.m. until midnight?” Tina asks.
“I was at home until around six p.m. Then I went to a retirement do. An old mate I worked with years back. ’Til maybe one in the morning. I shared an Uber home—”
“And where was the party held?”
“The Pig and Butcher in Brenham. It was a decent night, everyone was really friendly and…” He trails off. “As if any of it mattersnow. As ifanythingmatters.” Sam watches his face. There are clear similarities between him and Charlotte. The sandy hair with hints of auburn, the green eyes and creamy skin. Jack sniffs loudly and drags his hand down his face. He reaches for a cup of water, lifts it, trembling, to his lips.
“Can you confirm that you stayed at the party the whole night, Mr. Mathers?” Tina presses.
“Yes.” Jack nods. “Charlie, she’s just a baby. It feels like only yesterday I was teaching her to ride a bike. Oh, Jesus…” Jack’s chin wobbles and he looks, for a moment, like a child himself.
“You never left the Pig and Butcher?”
“I went to the corner shop for some vape juice. But that took, like, ten minutes. Twenty at most,” Jack says, tears now rolling freely down his face.
“So you left the Pig and Butcher for no more than twenty minutes? It couldn’t have been longer?” she asks. Jack shakes his head.
“You saw your brother that night, before you left,” Harry suggests. Harry had told Sam on Monday—that was only yesterday, she realizes—that he thought someone close to Charlotte was likely responsible.
“Yeah. I saw Nige at around six. Just before I left,” Jack says, lightly tapping his own cheeks as if trying to wake himself up.
“What was he doing?” Tina asks.
“He’d just got home. Nigel gets in at six every day.” Jack sniffs again. “He runs on his treadmill. Takes a shower and sits in his armchair with a whiskey. Then he and Charlotte—” Jack breaks off at the dead girl’s name, and takes a deep, calming breath. “Charlotte and Nigel eat whatever Sonja, the housekeeper, has prepared. They eat late, around seven thirty. My brother is a man of routine.”
Sam’s eyebrow raises. She knows Charlotte grew up in Palace Gardens, an exclusive terrace of white marble homes, but a housekeeper? That’s another level of rich. Sam pulls her phone from herpocket and quickly googles Nigel Mathers, clicks on LinkedIn. The man in the image is barely recognizable as the man she just saw enter the building, but it must be him.Hedge fund manager.Figures, Sam thinks, sliding her phone away again.
“On Thursdays, Charlotte and Nigel’s routine changes?” Tina asks, and Jack shrugs.
“I suppose. I never really paid attention until this happened. But yeah, Charlie goes—sorry, I mean Charlieused togo—to a school friend’s house on Thursdays after netball and Nige picked her up. I don’t know the exact details,” Jack says. Sam rubs her thumb over the small netball in her pocket.
“Do you know where the school friend lives?” she asks.
“No,” Jack says.
“You have a bit of a history, Jack,” Tina says. “Talk to us about that.”
“My history?” Jack blinks.
“You served some time, back in the day,” Tina says.
Jack’s pale face reddens. “That was stupid kids’ stuff, and I paid for it. Six months in juvy and my own dad never spoke to me again. Cut me off entirely. I was seventeen, for God’s sake.” The man covers his face and his shoulders heave, but Tina doesn’t let up.
