Shallow Ground (Detective Ford) by Andy Maslen (to read list txt) 📕

‘Does she drive?’

‘What?’

‘It’s a simple question. Does she drive?’

‘Well, she can drive, if that’s what you mean. She passed her test this March.’

‘And, as proud and wealthy parents, did you celebrate by buying her a car?’

Abbott glared at Ford, his jaw jutting. And then he spoke. ‘I have gone out of my way to be helpful to you and your investigation. I shift meetings. I cut rounds short. I answer all your questions,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘And now you come to my house and, once again, have the temerity to treat me like some common criminal.’

‘Not at all. I—’

Abbott held up his hand, palm out. ‘I think, Inspector, that if you have any further questions for me, or for my family’ – he looked down at his wife, then back at Ford – ‘you should arrest me. At which point I will first introduce you to one of the most expensive lawyers in the south of England, and then have him grease the slope down which you will hurtle all the way to directing traffic on market days. Are we clear?’

‘I look forward to it,’ Ford said, leaving Abbott to puzzle out the ambiguity: whether he eagerly anticipated the arrest, or the new job in a high-vis vest.

DAY FOURTEEN, 8.30 P.M.

‘Do you fancy a quick drink?’ Ford asked Hannah when they were sitting beside each other in his Discovery after the interview with Abbott.

‘Yes. That would be nice.’

He drove to a riverside pub and ordered a pint of lime and soda for him and a glass of Sauvignon blanc for Hannah. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the garden. They took a picnic bench beneath an old gnarled apple tree at the far end. A pair of ducks waddled through the benches before sliding into the water. Ford watched as they paddled furiously against the current without getting anywhere. He knew the feeling.

‘Cheers,’ he said, as they clinked glasses.

‘Cheers.’

The lime and soda at least had the virtue of being cold, though as Ford surveyed the other early-evening drinkers, he reflected he’d much rather have been sinking a pint of Wadworth 6X.

‘The Abbotts thought they were being clever with their alibi,’ Hannah said.

That had been Ford’s conclusion, too, but he wanted her take on this apparent power couple. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that by claiming they were binge-watching, there was no need to check they’d got the transmission times right,’ she said. ‘Shows get cancelled or postponed, and that’s your alibi sunk.’

‘They lied about their social life, too. According to them, they spend their lives at home doing jigsaws, when Olly’s research showed them at all these swanky parties and launches.’

She nodded. ‘I think there’s a very good chance Abbott was lying when you asked him about the car.’

‘And you say that because . . . ?’

‘The January 2002 issue of the Canadian Journal of Behavioural Science carried an article written by a member of the RCMP’s Organized Crime Investigation Division and a forensic linguist. They analysed the speech patterns of suspects found to be lying.’

‘What did they discover?’

‘When lying, people have to maintain two parallel narratives in their heads—’

‘The truth and the fiction.’

‘Yes. That effort calls for additional care in speech as they strive not to incriminate themselves, and people tend to drop the use of contractions. They might say “I did not” rather than “I didn’t”, for example.’

‘Is that what Abbott was doing?’

She nodded. ‘On four occasions he used uncontracted verbs, which gave his answers a stilted feel you may have picked up on.’

‘What were they?’

Hannah looked up into the branches of the apple tree as she recited. ‘He said, “did you not?” for “didn’t you?”, “I do not” for “I don’t”, “you would not” for “you wouldn’t” and “you would be able” for “you’d be able”.’

‘That could just be his way of speaking. He is rather pompous, in case you hadn’t noticed,’ Ford said, grinning.

Hannah tossed her head back and laughed loudly, drawing a few smiling glances from the occupants of the other benches. ‘Yes, I did notice! But, actually, he uses a lot of contractions. He said “isn’t”, “you’ve” and “we’re” in the first thirty-five seconds.’

‘That’s very interesting. Did you notice I didn’t ask Mrs Abbott whether she owned a grey Polo?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

He smiled. ‘That was my way of relaxing him a little, letting him think he’d won that one. I’ll get Olly to check. Or he may have registered one in the name of his daughter. Who has a name to live up to, by the way.’

Hannah nodded. ‘Poor thing. I wonder what her classmates are called.’

‘Artemis?’

She shook her head. ‘Desdemona?’

Ford grinned. ‘How about Petronella?’

‘No. I’ve got it,’ she said, smiling back at him. ‘Madagascar!’

‘Zanzibar!’

‘Casablanca!’

Their laughter erupted wildly.

When it subsided, Hannah nodded to her left at a young couple. ‘Do you suppose they’re on a date?’ she whispered.

He shrugged as he took in the fact they were both engrossed in their phones. ‘Could be. You see that more and more these days.’

‘If we were on a date, I—’ She hesitated, then smiled shyly, blushing. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

That caught Ford by surprise. He covered by taking a swig from his lime and soda, promptly choking and coughing a spray of it into the air.

‘No?’ he croaked out.

‘No. Do you want to know why?’

‘Why?’

‘You’re very clever, which I like a lot. You do really well at juggling a senior detective’s role with single parenthood. And’ – her blush deepened and spread down to her neck – ‘you’re very sexy. Especially your eyes, which are the same colour as conkers. And I like this, too,’ she said, stretching out a finger and prodding the scar on his chin.

Ford put his drink down. Of all the possible outcomes from his trip to see the Abbotts, he hadn’t foreseen fending off romantic overtures from the new deputy chief CSI. Hannah was attractive. And he found her intelligence and directness a relief rather than offputting. But . . .

‘Listen, Hannah. I like you, too,’