Lisle wanted to separate them for interview, but the supermodel was having none of it, and threatened him with a barrage of her father’s solicitors if he wanted to make an issue of it. So Lisle smiled wryly and showed them both into interview room three. At this point, he didn’t want to antagonise possibly vital witnesses. Or unnecessarily alert his best suspect to date. He wondered if the psychology Don had realised yet that he’d been earmarked for that role. He didn’t look particularly worried, if he did. As he took his seat, Callum was far more interested in his female companion than in what the police might be thinking, and he looked at Markie with a mixture of irony, sexual awareness and annoyance. Was she always this bossy and aggressive? And why did it attract him so? If he’d been asked, he’d have said that he liked his women more contemplative and thoughtful. She was definitely not his type, so why did she keep getting under his skin? ‘So, what can you tell me about the night Sir Vivian died?’ Lisle began, once the tape was rolling, and they’d made themselves as comfortable as they could in the moulded plastic chairs.
