even found himself relaxing under its influence.
‘Well, it was always just me and Debbie, really, since school. Debs was quiet, a bit dyslexic, the teacher said. The other kids picked on her, took the piss,’ Stacey said, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘She was so quiet and gentle, you know? She wouldn’t hurt anyone. All she wanted was to get a job . . . have a career, meet a guy, get married.’ Tears were now flowing freely down Stacey’s cheeks. ‘She should have had better. She deserved better . . . better than him.’
He sat forward almost in sync with Jane.
‘Him?’ they said in unison.
‘Sorry about that, Mr Hodgson,’ Lockyer said as he walked back into the interview room half an hour later. He sat down and nodded for Penny to resume the interview.
‘Interview resumed at 09.55,’ she said. The red light on the digital recorder flashed.
Hodgson looked, if it was possible, even calmer than before. He thought he was going to be walking out of here any second, swanning out of the station in his three-grand suit. Lockyer smiled: he was wrong.
‘Did you ever see Miss Stevens socially?’ he asked.
Hodgson looked at the digital tape recorder. Lockyer could tell he was making a decision about how much he was prepared to say. ‘I saw her on work social occasions. Drinks out, that kind of thing. I allow a generous budget for entertaining. I like to keep my staff happy.’
‘And your wife?’ Lockyer asked.
Hodgson sat forward. ‘My wife?’ His face was beginning to show some semblance of disquiet.
‘Your wife, Mr Hodgson.’
‘I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, Detective.’
‘Does your wife ever attend these “social occasions”, Mr Hodgson?’
‘No, she doesn’t. She travels a lot, with her work, but again, Detective, I am unsure how this is relevant to your investigation. My wife never even met Debbie.’
Lockyer felt the adrenalin fizz through his veins. Now he had him. ‘Have you ever been to Deborah Stevens’ home, Mr Hodgson?’
‘No. There would be no reason for me to do so.’ Hodgson ran his fingers through his hair. His immaculate and calm demeanour was slipping.
‘Did you ever see Miss Stevens . . . privately?’
‘No, I did not, and I do not appreciate the implication, Detective,’ Hodgson said, stifling a coughing fit.
‘Were you aware that Miss Stevens was pregnant?’
Hodgson’s face froze. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again. Lockyer waited. ‘I . . . she was going to . . . yes,’ he said, looking down at his hands.
Lockyer looked at Penny. Her hand was already hovering over the pause button on the digital recorder. ‘In light of what you have just said, Mr Hodgson, I must advise you that this interview will be terminated and resumed under caution.’ Hodgson’s tan was all but non-existent now as his face dropped several shades until he was almost grey. Lockyer looked at Penny and nodded.
‘Interview terminated at 10.10,’ she said as she pressed the stop button. The red light on the recorder disappeared.
Lockyer nodded again and Penny resumed the tape, the light flickering back to life. He leaned forward and said, ‘Mr Hodgson, I am obliged to advise you that this is now a formal interview under caution. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand your rights as they have been explained to you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do,’ Hodgson said, with a nod of his head.
‘Would you like to have legal representation, Mr Hodgson?’ Lockyer asked.
‘No.’ Hodgson couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the table top.
‘I would strongly urge you to reconsider, Mr Hodgson. You are entitled and are advised to have legal representation.’
‘No. I don’t want it,’ Hodgson said, puffing out his chest, looking Lockyer straight in the eye. ‘I understand my rights as
‘Well, it was always just me and Debbie, really, since school. Debs was quiet, a bit dyslexic, the teacher said. The other kids picked on her, took the piss,’ Stacey said, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘She was so quiet and gentle, you know? She wouldn’t hurt anyone. All she wanted was to get a job . . . have a career, meet a guy, get married.’ Tears were now flowing freely down Stacey’s cheeks. ‘She should have had better. She deserved better . . . better than him.’
He sat forward almost in sync with Jane.
‘Him?’ they said in unison.
‘Sorry about that, Mr Hodgson,’ Lockyer said as he walked back into the interview room half an hour later. He sat down and nodded for Penny to resume the interview.
‘Interview resumed at 09.55,’ she said. The red light on the digital recorder flashed.
Hodgson looked, if it was possible, even calmer than before. He thought he was going to be walking out of here any second, swanning out of the station in his three-grand suit. Lockyer smiled: he was wrong.
‘Did you ever see Miss Stevens socially?’ he asked.
Hodgson looked at the digital tape recorder. Lockyer could tell he was making a decision about how much he was prepared to say. ‘I saw her on work social occasions. Drinks out, that kind of thing. I allow a generous budget for entertaining. I like to keep my staff happy.’
‘And your wife?’ Lockyer asked.
Hodgson sat forward. ‘My wife?’ His face was beginning to show some semblance of disquiet.
‘Your wife, Mr Hodgson.’
‘I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, Detective.’
‘Does your wife ever attend these “social occasions”, Mr Hodgson?’
‘No, she doesn’t. She travels a lot, with her work, but again, Detective, I am unsure how this is relevant to your investigation. My wife never even met Debbie.’
Lockyer felt the adrenalin fizz through his veins. Now he had him. ‘Have you ever been to Deborah Stevens’ home, Mr Hodgson?’
‘No. There would be no reason for me to do so.’ Hodgson ran his fingers through his hair. His immaculate and calm demeanour was slipping.
‘Did you ever see Miss Stevens . . . privately?’
‘No, I did not, and I do not appreciate the implication, Detective,’ Hodgson said, stifling a coughing fit.
‘Were you aware that Miss Stevens was pregnant?’
Hodgson’s face froze. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again. Lockyer waited. ‘I . . . she was going to . . . yes,’ he said, looking down at his hands.
Lockyer looked at Penny. Her hand was already hovering over the pause button on the digital recorder. ‘In light of what you have just said, Mr Hodgson, I must advise you that this interview will be terminated and resumed under caution.’ Hodgson’s tan was all but non-existent now as his face dropped several shades until he was almost grey. Lockyer looked at Penny and nodded.
‘Interview terminated at 10.10,’ she said as she pressed the stop button. The red light on the recorder disappeared.
Lockyer nodded again and Penny resumed the tape, the light flickering back to life. He leaned forward and said, ‘Mr Hodgson, I am obliged to advise you that this is now a formal interview under caution. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand your rights as they have been explained to you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do,’ Hodgson said, with a nod of his head.
‘Would you like to have legal representation, Mr Hodgson?’ Lockyer asked.
‘No.’ Hodgson couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the table top.
‘I would strongly urge you to reconsider, Mr Hodgson. You are entitled and are advised to have legal representation.’
‘No. I don’t want it,’ Hodgson said, puffing out his chest, looking Lockyer straight in the eye. ‘I understand my rights as
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