“I’d have to look at my records...”
Sanderson glared at him.
“But I don’t think so,” he conceded.
Silence. A long pregnant silence.
“You should know that the bodies of Roisin Murphy and Isobel Lansley were discovered earlier today. Like Pippa Briers, they were tenants of yours. Is there anything you’d like to tell us about them?” Helen said.
Simpson shook his head firmly. Sanderson noted the first beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
“We estimate they were murdered within the last two to three years. I believe you’ve known them both for a while longer than that. Is that correct?”
“I’ve already said I didn’t ‘know’ them. Yes, they’ve been tenants of mine for several years, but—”
“Tell me about Isobel Lansley’s flat,” Helen interrupted. “What state was it in when you gained access to it after her disappearance?”
“It was okay. She always kept things nice and neat. She was very fastidious.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know her?” Helen said quickly.
“I don’t. What I mean is that it was very clean and tidy when I went in.”
“No signs of a struggle. Broken furniture or anything?”
“No.”
“The lock on the front door was intact? No windows forced open.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“So either they let their killer in... or he let himself in?”
Andrew Simpson said nothing.
“Presumably you have keys to all your properties?”
“Of course,” he replied, though he didn’t look happy admitting it. “Sometimes I lend them to workmen if there’s a job needs doing—”
“But it wouldn’t be hard for you to get extra sets cut if you needed to.”
Simpson shrugged.
“My guess is they were all abducted by someone who had access. Would you say that’s a fair assumption?” Helen continued.
“You’re the police officer,” he replied evenly.
Helen nodded.
“How many flats do you own in the Southampton area?” Sanderson continued.
“Forty-two” was the swift response.
“And do you own any other properties?”
“No. Other than my house, of course.”
“And you live in Becksford?”
