“No. Once it’s all inside I move it to another room.”
Gardener resumed his questioning from earlier. “You came downstairs. Which room did you go into first?”
“Er...” Robbie Carter was scratching his head. “The kitchen. Place was a mess. Drawers pulled out. Cupboard doors open, stuff all over the table. I wondered what the fuck had happened, so then I went into the living room – same thing there.”
“You didn’t see anyone at the scene?”
“No. Maybe my wife woke up and startled him – whoever he was. If you reckon there’s a mess in the bathroom, that’s probably where he attacked her. Maybe that’s where he was hiding from me. I wouldn’t know, would I? I never went in there.”
Gardener thought differently. Working out what had happened in the bathroom and who had been there was going to be the case-breaker.
“He must have been somewhere, because your phone indicated that. It went off while you were in the station and you saw him at your house.”
“Exactly,” shouted Robbie.
“Your explanation of what happened doesn’t add up, does it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You think your wife must have startled him and he attacked her in the bathroom, maybe dragged her to the bedroom...”
“Yes.”
“But then you’d have seen the mess in the bathroom, Robbie,” said Reilly. “At the very least you might have seen a trail across the landing.”
“Only you claim there was no mess,” said Gardener. “We’re very confused here about the timing of things, Mr Carter. So you see how important it is to us that you understand the difference between dead and dying?”
Robbie Carter hung his head again. “Oh Christ, what a mess.”
“So which one was it? Was your wife dying when you got home, or dead?”
Robbie started to bite the nails on his right hand. “Dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“She must have been; I couldn’t feel a pulse.”
Gardener paused to take notes before continuing.
“You came down the stairs, found the place had been burgled. What then?”
“That’s when I came straight round to see you lot. I really couldn’t take any more. My wife was dead, the house ransacked. I needed help.”
“You left straight away.”
“Yes.”
“Back door, or front?”
“Back door. I couldn’t get out the front door, could I? My gear was in the way.”
“Did you lock it behind you?”
“Lock it?”
“Yes. Did you lock the place up?”
“I... I can’t remember. It wasn’t a priority. I was a mess by that time. I can’t even remember getting to the police station.”