The Sentence Is Death

‘Bilberries are rich in antioxidants known as anthocyanins,’ I explained. ‘They’re said to improve the health of your eyes – particularly if you suffer from nyctalopia, or night blindness. RAF pilots used to eat bilberries when they were flying night missions during the war.’ I was quite proud of that. It was something I had learned researching Foyle’s War. ‘Night blindness is caused by the failure of the photoreceptors in the retina and there’s no real cure. But bilberries help. You can also take vitamin A – it’s the reason why mothers tell their children to eat carrots. And why some people choose to wear sunglasses during the day. Adrian Lockwood wears sunglasses. He has a bottle of vitamin A in his kitchen.’

I waited for all this to sink in. Mills used his shoulders to shift himself forward and sat down in a chair, Christine Keeler-like, with his knees spreading out on either side of the chair back.

‘You’re saying that Adrian Lockwood killed Pryce,’ Cara said.

‘Pryce was investigating him. The fact was that Lockwood had lied during his divorce proceedings. He had hidden assets – vintage wine – adding up to £3 million and against all the rules he’d kept it concealed. Then he’d made a stupid mistake. He’d given Pryce an insanely expensive bottle as a thank-you present after the trial. Maybe he was showing off. But Pryce got suspicious and asked an investigator to look into it. The investigator, a man called Leonard Pinkerman, discovered the truth – and Richard Pryce was furious. He was well known for being a hundred per cent scrupulous. Even though the legal proceedings were over and he’d won his case, he wasn’t going to let the matter rest. It went against everything he believed in. On that Sunday, the day he died, he called his partner and told him that he wanted to consult the Law Society. Now do you see how it works?

‘Adrian Lockwood loathes his ex-wife and he’ll do anything to stop the verdict being overturned. If he goes back into court he may have to pay out a whole load more. He’s lied to his solicitor. And the taxman may be interested to learn that he’s sitting on an asset that’s worth a small fortune. But he has a plan to deal with the whole situation. He spends the early part of the evening with his lover, Davina Richardson, and leaves her house at around seven o’clock.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Mills cut in. He didn’t speak often but when he did he was as snarky as possible. ‘Mrs Richardson told us that he left at eight o’clock! She was quite sure of it.’

That was what I had thought too, but looking back through my notes I had finally seen the truth. My Eiffel Tower moment.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But she also told me that she was useless without a man around the house. She said there was a whole string of things she couldn’t do. She couldn’t park the car. She couldn’t work the TV remote control. And she always forgot to change the clocks. Richard Pryce was killed on the Sunday after the clocks had gone back! At least, they were meant to have but Davina had forgotten. It was seven o’clock when he left the house. Not eight o’clock as she thought.

‘Lockwood drove himself to the top of Hampstead Heath but he couldn’t risk driving into Fitzroy Park. It’s a private road and it would be easy to notice – and remember – any car that turned up on a quiet Sunday night, particularly if it had a personalised number plate. Lockwood happens to drive a silver Lexus with the number plate RJL 1. So he walked down from Hampstead Lane. There was a full moon but with his poor night vision he still needed a torch. He was also carrying an umbrella. Mr Fairchild didn’t see it against the beam of light but I noticed it when I was in his home. As he approached the door he stumbled, again because of his eyesight. He trampled the bulrushes but steadied himself using the umbrella, making a mark in the soil.

‘Richard Pryce was on the telephone when he opened the door and he must have been surprised to see his client. “What are you doing here?” he asked. And then he added: “It’s a bit late.” Don’t you see? It was a bit late because only that afternoon he’d telephoned his partner, telling him what action he was going to take. He’d already made his decision. It was a bit late to argue.

‘Even so, Lockwood persuaded Pryce to let him in and they went into the study. Pryce must have taken out the bottle of wine to show to him, or maybe Lockwood asked to see it because it was essential to his plan. You see, he had heard what had happened at The Delaunay. He knew that his ex-wife had seemingly threatened Pryce in front of a crowd of witnesses. We don’t know her exact words but whatever they were, they were close enough. She had threatened him with a bottle and now he would be killed with a bottle. It must have amused him to know that she would get the blame.’

‘And what about the number on the wall?’ Grunshaw asked.