Duncan Paterson looked up as Yarrow and Harding entered the interview room.
It was, Yarrow thought, too much of a coincidence that the driver of the getaway car – Yarrow had no doubt that it had been Macaulay – should have been found murdered on the same moor that Paterson and one unknown other had attempted to destroy the getaway Humber and obliterate any potential evidence the car might contain.
Like most policemen, he did not believe in coincidences.
Paterson, who had been left waiting in the interview room for almost two hours, gave the detectives a sardonic smile, his scarred face twisted as he grinned, as if enjoying a private joke at the expense of the two officers.
‘Good morning, Mr Paterson,’ Yarrow said as he placed his file on the desk and sat down, as did Harding.
‘Aye, ni
