BooksBarbecue
Back False Witness
Chapters (100)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. Acknowledgements
  97. DEAD GUILTY
  98. 1
  99. FALSE WITNESS
  100. Also by Michelle Davies

Julia stared at her husband as he yanked open the door and settled himself behind the wheel. After fifteen years of marriage she could say with confidence that she knew Ewan pretty much inside out. The qualities, beliefs, passions and foibles that stacked up to make him the person he was were an indelible part of her too, matrimonially etched on her psyche for better or worse.

Yes, she knew her husband exceptionally well – and she knew when he was lying to her.

10

Shortly after noon the officer who’d allowed Alan fetch his inhaler sought him out in the main hall. Not sure what he should be doing, what with the school being closed, Alan was busying himself buffing the parquet floor with the industrial polisher. It was so noisy he didn’t hear the officer until he was right by his side, gesturing at him to turn it off.

‘You can go home if you want, but CID wants you down at the station at two thirty to make a formal statement,’ the copper said. ‘Ask for DS Renshaw when you get there.’

Alan managed to hide his trepidation long enough to confirm that he’d keep the appointment. He’d been hoping for at least a day’s grace to get his thoughts straight and fathom a way out of this mess, but now he had two and a bit hours to come up with a plan to divert the police’s attention away from Rushbrooke and, more importantly, the Pavilion.

He decided to wait in his office until it was time to leave; it would at least give him respite from all the commotion above ground, with police vehicles coming and going and people in overalls and masks traipsing all over the place. But as he reached the stairwell to his basement workplace Mrs Pullman stopped him.

‘I understand the police want to interview you,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go home first? You’ve had a terrible shock.’ She looked him up and down, taking in his bottle-green combat trousers and sweat-stained grey T-shirt, and pulled a face. ‘It probably wouldn’t hurt to smarten up a little as well.’

Alan managed his first smile of the day. He and the head got on well, always had, and he was not in the slightest bit offended by the remark because she was right, he looked a state.

‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind nipping home to change, if you’re sure.’

She nodded sadly. ‘There’s nothing either of us can do here at the moment.’

Alan’s house was two streets away from the school and came with the job. It was a decent size and the rent was reasonable enough for him to not mind the six-monthly poke-around by the council – in its guise as the local education authority and therefore his employer – to make sure he wasn’t trashing the place.