Free The Judas Sheep by Stuart Pawson

Norris?’
    ‘A long time. Thanks to me, Marina was once the Face of the Year. I discovered her. She was only fifteen at the time, still at school. I’d just finished college. Girls with the right looks are ten-a-penny at that age, but to get to the top they need three things: ambition, dedication, and, above all, a sympathetic photographer. One who can see the real woman within, unlock the sexual creature waiting to blossom into—’
    ‘OK, I get the message,’ I interrupted. ‘So you unlocked this sexual creature and she became famous and married a millionaire. When did your latest affair with her start?’
    ‘You’re pathetic!’ The words exploded on me like one of those old-fashioned flashguns going off. ‘You rub your nose in your grubby little world and think everybody is like you. You couldn’t begin to understand how it was between Marina and me.’
    ‘Then tell me.’ I resisted mentioning that I’d been an art student myself – in the sixties. That would’ve rocked him.
    ‘I’ve told you enough. Can I go now?’
    I ignored the question, and decided some goading might provoke a reaction. I’d remembered something Nigel had written in his reports. ‘Did Mr Norris know you were screwing his wife?’ I asked.
    The contempt overflowed. ‘That’s all you can imagine, isn’t it, Officer. Two people meet, they screw. It’s all you are capable of understanding.’
    Nigel had called at Norris’s home in Lymm, on the off-chance of not catching him there. He’d had a word with his domestic staff and was surprised to learn that the gardener knew all about Mrs Norris’s assignations at the Royal Cheshire. He’d related in vivid detail Harold Hurst’s account of rescuing her the previous week. Her eyes, Hurst had told the gardener, were black and sparkling, and she’d chatted all the way home.
    ‘Seems reasonable to me,’ I admitted. ‘So what else did you get up to?’
    ‘I’m not saying any more.’ He folded his arms like a defiant Just William.
    ‘Mr Smith,’ I said, ‘Mr Norris’s chauffeur was murdered in a particularly brutal way. Mrs Norris vanished on the same day, hasn’t been seen since. Have you any idea where she might be?’
    ‘She’s vanished?’ He looked shocked.
    ‘Didn’t you know?’
    ‘Of course not, how could I? I wouldn’t have come here today if I’d known.’
    ‘Didn’t you try to ring her?’
    ‘No. We only talk on the phone if we can’t make it.’
    ‘So you were expecting to see her today?’
    ‘I’d have thought that was obvious.’
    ‘Quite. So maybe now you’ll tell me if Norris knew you were having an affair with his wife.’
    ‘I resent your assumption, Officer, that I was having, as you so quaintly put it, an affair with Mrs Norris.’
    ‘So what did you get up to, all afternoon?’
    ‘You’ve a mind like a bloody cesspit!’
    He was swearing now. That proved he was angry. Soon he’d be stamping a foot. I had an appointment to keep, so I cut it short. I said: ‘Reginald Arthur Smith, also known, appropriately, as Rats, I’m arresting you on suspicions of carrying drugs. You don’t have to say anything, however, 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?’ I assumed that his open mouth and bulging eyes indicated the affirmative. ‘Give me your car keys,’ I told him. ‘I’m taking you to the local station for an interview.’
    ‘You … you … I want to ring my solicitor,’ he gasped.
    ‘You can do that from the station. And if you’re a good boy, answer all our questions, tell us where you get your goodies from, I might be very kind and not charge you with having sex with a child. Put your seat belt on.’
    He was carrying four spliffs and a couple of grammes of heroin. Mrs Norris’s behaviour with Hurst had given him away. Once he realised we couldn’t do him forindecent assault without a