Part Twelve

Janice sat at her kitchen table. She felt like a zombie having had little to no sleep wondering what Thorne was going to do with her. Eventually a call came asking her to come to the station. Her solicitor accompanied her and was equally if not quite so volubly skeptical of Janice’s explanation. Thorne was accompanied by a uniformed female officer called Cilla who hardly looked up and took copious notes even through the recording machinery ran throughout. She tried once again to explain everything that had happened since she had visited the hotel in Margate but it sounded more and more unlikely, even to her ears.

Thorne sat back in his chair, barely moving throughout her monologue. When it was clear she had finished he leant forward. “Christopher told the truth about his arm. In so far as the current treatment is concerned but the hospital that originally treated him has shut and the records from that time aren’t available. His specialist confirms the approximate age of the injury however so we have no reason to disbelieve the timing.” He looked up as a uniformed constable knocked and came in with coffee. “It also appears true that he uses Watson but he hasn’t applied for any sort of official change and all his official records are in the name of Scrutt. He has lived at that address for fifteen years and the neighbours confirm he is a quiet neighbour if a little obsessive.”

“The neighbour, the woman had some sort of relationship with him.”

“Indeed, so they both said but it’s not recent, maybe two years ago. He’s not been known to have any sort of,” Thorne coughed, “companion. The male neighbour says he was recently visited by an elderly woman but he didn’t know who. She was dropped off and picked up by a man fitting Roger’s description. So far as we can his story fits.”

“What about the man in the typewriter shop?”

“He says he remembers the machine more than the man who bought it. He wasn’t especially helpful.” Thorne paused. When Janice said no more, he shifted a file from the bottom of the heap he had brought with him. “Roger’s body, as you know, was exhumed last week. The toxicology tests have been done.” He looked away, at a stain on the wall behind Janice’s head. “There are traces of adrenaline in quantities that suggest he was injected. This coupled with the known medical issues he had suggest he was deliberately killed.”

Janice felt a tear slip down her cheek. Killed? Surely not? He couldn’t have been.

The inspector looked at her. “As you recall we took your computer as part of our investigations. It appears someone used it to determine what was the best way to administer adrenaline. Can you explain that?”

“No. No I can’t?”

“Who had access to the computer?”

“Roger and me. And the cleaner I suppose.”

Thorne nodded. “Obviously this is currently circumstantial but can you see the way it is pointing?”

“You think I killed him? Why?”

Thorne shrugged. “There might be any number of reasons.”

Janice let her head droop. Her solicitor put a hand in her shoulder. She said, “What are you intending to do with my client?”

“For now, nothing. We will continue to garner evidence. We would like her to voluntarily surrender her passport and agree to staying in the neighbourhood but she is free to go.”

Janice nodded. She knew she could no more go anywhere currently as kill anyone. What was happening to her?