‘Sharon Gregory, a cabin attendant on the Heathrow to Miami service,’ said Kate bluntly.
‘Oh God!’ exclaimed Digby with a hunted look. He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘What about her?’
‘We understand from our enquiries that you and she were rather close.’
Digby glanced at the door. ‘Yes, I’ve met her a couple of times. Why?’
‘I was also told that you and she had a sexual relationship,’ said Dave, hazarding a guess at the reason Digby’s phone number was on Sharon’s mobile phone list of contacts.
‘Now look here,’ said Digby, displaying a hint of steel. ‘I don’t see that this has anything to do with the police. Is adultery a criminal offence all of a sudden?’ he asked sarcastically.
‘Not any more,’ said Dave. ‘But it might reach the divorce courts if you’re actually married to your business partner.’
‘I’m not,’ snapped Digby.
‘You admit to having sex with Sharon Gregory, then,’ said Kate, getting none too subtly to the nub of the matter.
‘I’m not admitting anything. I have nothing further to say and I’d be grateful if you left. Now! If you come back again, you’d better have a warrant.’
‘I think you’ve touched a nerve, ma’am,’ commented Dave quietly.
‘Where were you on the twenty-ninth of July, Mr Digby?’ Kate ignored Digby’s request to leave, and her Australian accent became a little sharper. ‘That was last Monday.’
‘I don’t have to answer that.’
‘In that case,’ said Dave, ‘we will come back with a warrant and we’ll turn this place upside down. And we might just bring Revenue and Customs with us. They’re always interested in online businesses.’
‘Fiona and I went to the Royal Opera House to see Swan Lake.’ Digby caved in.
‘Really? My wife is in that,’ said Dave quietly.
‘Doing what?’
‘She’s a principal dancer,’ said Dave.
‘Oh!’ said Digby. Unaware that Dave’s wife was white, he was obviously trying to recall whether he had ever seen a black ballet dancer. ‘But you still haven’t told me what’s so important about last Monday.’
‘It’s the night that Sharon Gregory was murdered. Two days after her husband was murdered,’ said Kate, and was pleased to see the shocked expression on Digby’s face. But, being the cynic she was, she was uncertain whether it was shock at the death of someone he had slept with, or the fact that the victim had been married, or that the police had arrived at his front door in connection with the woman’s murder. Or even that of her husband.
‘That’s terrible,’ said Digby. But there was no sign of guilt, just transparent insincerity.
‘I’ll ask you again,’ said Kate. ‘Did you have sex with Sharon Gregory?’
‘Yes, a couple of times in Miami. We met on a flight and she made it fairly clear that she was—’
Kate held up a hand. ‘We get the picture, Mr Digby. As a matter of fact, we’ve heard it all before. From the numerous other men she slept with.’
‘Good God!’ exclaimed Digby. ‘There were others?’ he asked, rather naively.
‘Oh yes, there were dozens,’ said Dave. ‘Do you still have the ticket stubs for your visit to Covent Garden?’ he asked. ‘Or perhaps you’d rather we checked with Miss Douglas.’
‘I’d prefer that you didn’t speak to Fiona, Sergeant,’ said Digby hurriedly. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t have the ticket stubs any more.’
‘Did you throw them away?’ Kate posed the question innocently, but she didn’t believe that Digby had been to the ballet at all.
‘Not exactly, Inspector,’ said Digby. ‘Fiona has them. She keeps a scrapbook and pastes them in. Do you really have to talk to her about it?’ he implored.
‘There is a way round that, Mr Digby,’ said Dave.
‘Yes? Anything,’ pleaded Digby.
‘You can give us a DNA sample.’
‘Certainly, if that means you don’t have to speak to Fiona.’
Dave produced a DNA kit from his briefcase and took a swab from inside Digby’s mouth. It would have no evidential value without the authorization of a superintendent, but it may help to eliminate Digby from their enquiries.
‘Oh, you’re still here.’ Fiona Douglas came back into the room just as Dave was putting the kit back into his briefcase.
‘We were just leaving, Miss Douglas.’ Kate turned to Digby. ‘Thank you for your help,’ she said. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’