He gives an exaggerated start. ‘Come again?’
‘You’re not here out of concern. You’re here because you don’t want me to take on Hamish Wolfe. You don’t want me digging up old details, finding your mistakes, holding you to account. Putting Hamish Wolfe away was the greatest success of your career – it was you, wasn’t it? I remember your name in the newspapers – and you can’t bear the thought of someone overturning that conviction.’
Pete feels his heartbeat starting to race. ‘We didn’t make mistakes. Hamish Wolfe is guilty.’
‘Everyone makes mistakes. Even Hamish Wolfe. That’s why you caught him. And for what it’s worth, I agree with you. I have no plans to take on his case.’
She moves again, lowering her feet to the floor. ‘But let me be very clear, Detective,’ she says. ‘If I were to decide to do so, no amount of pressure on your part would put me off.’
He stands before she has a chance to. ‘Would you mind if I used your toilet? Cold day, too much coffee, I’m afraid.’
She nods towards a door behind him. ‘That will take you into the rear hall. The door immediately opposite is the downstairs cloakroom.’
‘Thanks.’ He leaves the room, conscious of her eyes following him. To his right is the back door of the house and through its glass he can see a double garage. The downstairs loo is a small room, plain and functional. To his left is another door.
The sound of voices, low-pitched but unmistakable, comes from the kitchen he’s just left.
When he returns to the kitchen, Maggie Rose is leaning over the table, staring at her laptop. She is alone. She closes down the screen, but not before he’s spotted his own name on it.
‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I suppose I’ve taken enough of your time.’
She says nothing, but slips back into the armchair, this time tucking her legs inside the sweater. There is something very childlike about the way she sits. Were it not for the tiny lines on her face, she might even look like a child.
He takes one step towards the door. ‘I’m sorry Sandra Wolfe approached you. I’m sorry you’ve been pestered with letters from Wolfe himself. We found that out on the website as well. I wish I could offer to do something about the inconvenience and disturbance that must have caused, but I can’t, I’m afraid. These people are free to do what they like within the law.’
‘I understand the law well enough, thank you.’
‘But what I can do is advise. And I advise you to have nothing to do with Sandra Wolfe, or the Wolfe Pack, or whatever that bunch of idiots are calling themselves this week. And I certainly advise you to have nothing to do – ever – with Hamish Wolfe.’
‘If you’re advising me, Detective, why am I feeling threatened?’
She hasn’t moved. She’s still curled up like a cat in the large armchair. He can’t imagine anyone looking less threatened.
On a sudden whim, Pete moves to the window. The garden is huge and the few colours visible through the frost are dull and muted. The lawn that stretches out from the back door is the opaque white of chalk and the high brick walls, the line of mature trees, the dense shrubs all seem to conspire to keep out sunlight.
‘Do you live here alone, Miss Rose?’
There is movement in the glass’s reflection as Maggie Rose gets to her feet behind him. Her weird hair and pale face materialize behind his shoulder.
‘That feeling of being threatened has not gone away,’ she says.
‘I apologize. Really not my intention.’ He turns to face her. ‘Before her son was arrested, Sandra Wolfe was probably a perfectly nice, middle-class Somerset lady, working part-time, having friends round for dinner, eating at the golf club on Saturday evenings. But we all know what female animals are capable of when their young are threatened.’
‘I just thought her very unhappy, but I’ll bear in mind what you say.’
She turns and he has little choice but to follow her from the room. In the hall, he looks around for signs of someone else in the house, but the doors are all still closed.
‘The pressure group are another story,’ he says. ‘None of them were ever normal, in my view. Several have either a minor criminal record or a history of psychiatric problems. Most are unemployed, or under employed. They have very little in their lives so, to fill the gap, they give themselves a cause. And having got one, they’re pursuing it with a great deal of conviction. Individually, they might not be too much of a problem, but they wind each other up and egg each other on.’
At the front door she turns to face him. ‘I’m familiar with the idea. It’s called group-think.’
‘Yeah, well it’s at work here. So, I’d advise you to review your security arrangements. Make sure the locks are solid, fit a few security lights, if you haven’t got them already, and keep a chain on your door. These people know where you live.’