“Mrs Elson?”
“Yes?” the woman seemed surprised he knew her name.
“I’m Detective Constable Curtis, and this is DC Sinclair, Merseyside Police. We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“You’d better come in then,” she replied, and she turned her chair around dexterously, and began wheeling herself along the hall, calling to the two detectives who trailed along in her wake. “Would one of you close the door please? Can’t be too careful nowadays,” and Curtis detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Sinclair closed the front door quietly.
They followed her through a doorway, which they could tell had been specially widened to facilitate easy wheelchair access. She stopped, spun round to face them and invited them to sit on the sofa, facing her.
“Now,” she said, “Why do two o
