7
Certain that he was the most relaxed and unconcerned of those faced with the prospect of being questioned about a suspicious death, Nathan followed Constable Havers from the dining room. All those who had preceded him had displayed some form of stress or anxiety, whether it be a nervous tremor, a stammer when they spoke, or overcompensation in the form of belligerence and bluster, and the three who remained were no better.
“If you wouldn’t mind stepping in here, Mr Stone,” Constable Havers said, pushing open a door and stepping aside.
Nathan realised the moment he stepped through the door that they were in the manager’s office. It was small, smaller than some cells he had seen, with most of the space taken up by a distressed-looking desk and a pair of worn, leather swivel chairs.
Whi
