Page 40 of Nothing Hiding

"And the night before that? Can you account for your time?" Wyatt added.

He frowned. "No, I can't do that."

Juliette and Wyatt exchanged a glance. She'd been easing up in her suspicion of him, but now, it was all the way in the front of her mind again.

"Why not?" she asked.

He paused. "Because I can't remember a thing about it," he admitted, now looking shamefaced. "Do you mind if I access my online diary?" he asked. "This shock has driven my schedule all the way out of my mind. And I'm scatterbrained at the best of times. I don't want to get it wrong and end up in prison!"

He cast a look at Juliette that told her he believed she was capable of anything.

"We aren't here to persecute you," she reassured him. "As long as you can account for your time, then we can move on."

He moved to his computer and quickly opened it. "Let me see, let me see. Where was I yesterday? Yesterday? It seems so long ago. That’s the problem with art. It becomes a process, and you simply forget about the real world."

He turned, his face lighting up. "Well, would you believe it? I was at a show! I don't know how I forgot about that. I attended an immersive theater performance that started at about five p.m. and ran until about nine. I love immersive theater. Their make-up effects are phenomenal, and I really go there as much for the research as for the entertainment. So, I was busy for that time."

"And the night before?" Juliette was surprised, now that he’d calmed down after his shock, that this blogger seemed like quite the chatty extrovert.

"The night before, I was away. I took the train to Devon to see my sister. I think I got back at about eleven p.m."

"And how did you get from the train station to your home? Where is your home?" Juliette asked.

"It's here. I live on the first floor. I'm very fortunate that this is our old family house that I inherited and renovated," he said. "Luckily, it’s ended up being in a very good area, and it’s worth a fortune. All the same, I don't own a car as I don’t need one. I took an Uber from the station—now it's all coming back to me. I can show you the receipt. When I want to move sculptures or buy heavy materials, I rent a car or a van."

"And this morning, early?"

"I don't have an alibi for that, I'm afraid. I was here, working on my pieces, until my model arrived at about eleven."

Juliette nodded. It was very clear, to her, that although he might have had time to take Sophie and dump her body, he would not have had time to take Daisy.

One window of time was enough. He was cleared.

Juliette and Wyatt exchanged a look and then Juliette turned back to Walter.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said. "We may need to follow up with you later, if we need further information, but you’re cleared."

He nodded, looking relieved, and they headed to the glass studio door.

But, as Juliette stepped out, planning to retrace her steps down the fire escape, there was a loud, persistent hammering from the front door downstairs.

"Someone's here!" the model called, sounding alarmed.

"I'd better go."

Walter turned and rushed out of the room, heading downstairs.

It was only because the voice was so loud that Juliette heard it when the door was opened. A voice she recognized.

"Mr. Walter Homer? Detectives Harris and Black from Scotland Yard. Come with us, please. You're a suspect in a murder investigation, and we're bringing you in for questioning!"

Now, Juliette's eyebrows shot up. She felt appalled. Too late, the other team had arrived on the scene and were now planning on an onsite interrogation at the police station. Quite apart from the massive waste of time it would be, who knew what that would do to Walter’s heart?

Fearing this would end badly, she rushed downstairs to join the fray.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

"Wait!" Juliette shouted, rushing downstairs. "Wait, just a minute! You can’t do this!"

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