Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
As I watched Channing escort Beeks through the office, I rang Elvira. ‘He’s coming out to you.’
A beat later she replied, ‘We’ve got him.’ Humour laced her tone. ‘He’s fuming. What did you say to him?’
‘Read him The Mystic Informer’s article. He didn’t love it.’
‘And this time, the article was real.’ She chuckled.
‘Don’t lose him,’ I ordered. ‘Make sure you or McCaffrey are on him at all times.’
‘Not my first rodeo,’ she replied. ‘We got it, boss.’
She hung up and I pocketed my phone.
Channing returned. ‘Beeks is hiding something.’
‘He is,’ I agreed with a smile. ‘He might not have done it, but he definitely knows who did. Yet he has the rage, the anger … he’s still on the list. High on the list. He could have done it.
He considers himself superior to others.
He’d like to be what we are: judge, jury, and executioner.
It burns his arse that a girl has that role over him.
’ I flipped to the next file. ‘Send in Bruce Hunter. Let’s see what he has to say for himself. ’
Hunter was quiet and contained. I ran through the same line I’d taken with Beeks, but I didn’t get a rise. He was ice to Beeks’s fire. But that iciness moved him right up my suspect list as it had taken ice to break into a Symposium member’s house, tie Marlow to a chair and gut him.
‘Help me find who killed your friend,’ I entreated.
He snorted. ‘Drummond was no friend of mine. You think I’m stupid? You’ll pin it on the first ex-soldier you find. You lot love an easy target.’
‘Only if they’re guilty,’ I said lightly. ‘And right now, you’re auditioning beautifully.’ I paused. ‘No lawyer, Hunter?’
‘Don’t need one,’ he said baldly, giving me a smile I didn’t believe for a second. ‘I’m innocent.’
‘Yeah? Did you know where Alasdair lived?’
He looked at me for a beat. ‘No comment.’
‘All right. How about this? Your military record says you’re skilled at subtle ingress. You know what that means? It means you’re real good at getting in places you aren’t welcome. You can pick locks, Hunter, and someone picked Marlow’s locks. That was you, wasn’t it?’
‘No comment,’ he replied again, though a smug smirk tugged at his lips.
‘You haven’t got the stones to say anything to us other than no comment, Hunter?’
‘No. Comment.’
I smiled. ‘If that’s how you want to play it, that’s fine. Interview terminated. Channing, show Mr Hunter the way out.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
When Hunter was out of the room, I tagged Bland who was waiting, ready to follow Hunter. I waited until Bland had eyes on his target and then rang off.
When Channing returned I asked him, ‘Impressions?’
‘Thinks he’s untouchable, a hard ass. Arrogant. Doesn’t think he needs a lawyer to tell him to spit out “no comment.”’
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed. ‘And we can work with all of those things. Send in the Kerrs. Let’s start with the Mrs. I don’t think the prim and perfect Mrs Kerr is going to love being Beeks’s alibi.
I wonder who suggested it? I guess they couldn’t come up with a nice and innocent explanation for all of them being together at 5am, so they had to use a scandalous excuse instead. But what does that tell us?’
‘If they’re lying about being together sexually, it’s because Beeks needed an alibi.’
I grinned at my partner, who was becoming less green by the day. ‘You got it. Let’s see if Mrs Kerr does indeed like two men at once, and if not, then we’ve got something to play with.’
Mrs Kerr was accompanied by a lawyer. Maybe she was smarter than the others, or maybe she had more cash. With his slick pinstripe suit and his equally slick hair, the man who rolled in with her certainly wasn’t a court-appointed lawyer, that much was certain.
‘Mrs Kerr,’ I greeted her expansively. ‘How good it is to see you again.’
She glared back and sat down in the chair opposite me, and the lawyer settled in next to her. ‘Cop bitch,’ she sneered. ‘You people frame us every time something goes wrong.’
‘Angela,’ the lawyer said mildly, ‘please.’ He turned to me. ‘Apologies for my client’s language. She’s overwrought.’
‘She’ll be more overwrought by the time we’re done here, counsel.’ I leaned back in my chair, letting the silence stretch. People always fill the silence; it’s human nature. The paracetamol had kicked in, and I had my patience back, so I sat and waited.
Predictably, she cracked first. She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I don’t know why I’m here. We didn’t kill him. Drummond was one of us. He was our voice.’
‘Good,’ I said evenly. ‘Then you’ll want to help us find who did kill him.’
‘You’ll twist everything I say!’ she spat. ‘Ogre-loving wh—’
‘Mrs Kerr!’ the lawyer interrupted firmly. ‘Remember your instructions.’
She grimaced but simmered down.
The lawyer reached into a briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Here is my client’s prepared statement.’
I scanned it and looked up, letting a smirk pull at my lips. ‘Two men at the same time,’ I noted. ‘Which holes did they use, Ange? Pussy and arse, or did they—’
Mrs Kerr shot to her feet, eyes blazing, lips curled over her teeth. Oh, she didn’t like that one bit.
The solicitor took his client’s arm gently and tugged her back down to sitting. He levelled a flat, unfriendly look at me. So much for becoming fast friends. Shame. ‘Inspector! Your comments are unnecessary and incendiary.’
‘You know what’s unnecessary, counsel?’ I asked as I leaned forward across the table, opening the folder and spreading the photos of Drummond’s wrecked body across the metal surface.
‘Killing your buddy to frame his ogre nephew. Killing your friend because you knew he had an ogre relative to pin it on. That’s incendiary. ’
Despite herself, Mrs Kerr looked down at the photographs, eyes widening in shock at the sight that greeted her.
‘Oh my God,’ she said and clapped a hand to her mouth, shoulders heaving uncontrollably.
Channing hastily shoved the wastebasket at her, and she threw up into it.
The lawyer gathered the pictures, shoved them back into the file and flipped the manila cover closed.
‘There was no need to subject her to those photographs,’ he said tightly.
‘My client was not responsible for Mr Drummond’s death and she is understandably distressed by the events of the last twenty-four hours.
You have her statement. She has nothing more to add at this time.
Unless you have any charges for my client …
’ He paused for the barest beat for me to confirm or deny.
I stared stonily instead.
‘Then we’re done here,’ he said, standing.
Once again, he took her by the arm as if to lead her out gently.
She was still pale, but she was regaining her hoity-toity spirit moment by moment.
As I watched, she shoved her pretty nose back into the air, shoulders thrust back.
She’d found her footing, but the photos had truly horrified her.
She hadn’t been present at the murder sites then, but I’d bet a month’s pay cheque that she was still involved, albeit on the periphery.
She had to know who the killer was, and I was betting there was a reason she’d falsely provided an alibi for Beeks.
The woman was so prim and proper that the only thing that had been up her arse was a monumental rod that she’d yet to remove.
‘We’re not done here counsel,’ I replied. ‘Not by a long shot. Your client knows something.’ I looked at Angela. ‘Don’t you?’
She pressed her lips together – an unconscious tell to stop herself from spilling the secrets. Yeah, she knew something.
‘But by all means, let’s discuss this further on another occasion, after I’ve had the chance to speak to your husband. Interview terminated.’
Poise regained, Mrs Kerr smirked all the way to the door.
‘Well, she’s a total bitch,’ Channing muttered.
‘Yeah, but she’s a bitch in the know,’ I said.
‘She doesn’t like being the alibi, but she’ll take it, for now.
The pictures made her sick so I doubt she did the killing – no blood on those pretty nails – but yeah, I’d bet she knows who did it.
Let her go for now and let’s bring in the husband.
Let’s see if we can rile him and get him to slip. ’
Mr Kerr had combed his beard and brushed his hair, yet his rumpled clothes gave him a slovenly appearance.
Mrs Kerr’s counsel reprised his role once more, giving me a wide smile while the formalities were recorded for the tape.
Once I was done, he again reached into his briefcase to give me the same statement he’d prepared for Mrs Kerr; the only thing amended was his client’s name and gender.
‘Somewhat lazy work, counsel,’ I chided.
He looked amused.
‘I hope he didn’t charge you for preparing two statements,’ I said conversationally to Mr Kerr, ‘when he’s only bothered to complete one. Still, you’re no stranger to getting screwed, are you Mr Kerr? When you’re with Beeks, are you the bottom?’
‘I am not with him like that!’ he spat.
‘No?’ I said mildly. ‘You just like to watch him fuck your wife, is that it?’
He stood from the table, rage across his face.
‘Mr Kerr,’ his slick counsel said. ‘Please calm yourself and sit down.’
‘That’s right,’ I added. ‘Do what the nice lawyer says. Does he enjoy a ménage à trois with you too, Kerr?’
‘We do not—’ Kerr began, but his brief placed a warning hand on his arm and he took a steadying breath.
‘It’s the beard, isn’t it?’ I asked with a wink. ‘Beeks is clean-shaven. Smoother for Mrs Kerr when he’s down between her legs, licking her—’
‘You better not finish that sentence, you bitch! You fucking cop bitch!’
‘Your wife liked that phrase too. The two of you enjoy name-calling, it seems. Tell me, Mr Kerr, when you were both with Mr Beeks, what names did you call him? Master, maybe? Are you Mr Beeks’s little bitch?’
Mr Kerr’s face turned a pleasing shade of red, almost purpling. When he spoke spittle flew everywhere. ‘I’m going to get you fired!’
I smiled, letting him see how utterly unruffled I was by his threat. ‘I don’t think so. Senior can’t touch me. None of you can. It’ll be fun to watch you try though.’ I winked just to annoy him more.
He was close to apoplectic rage, and that meant he was going to make a mistake. ‘I’ll fucking—’
‘Barnaby!’ The lawyer placed a calming hand on his client’s arm which he immediately shrugged off, glaring at his counsel.
I lean forward. ‘Do continue. You’ll fucking … what, Barnaby? You’ll fucking kill me? Like you did poor Alasdair? Oh no, wait, you just like to watch don't you? Did you watch someone kill Alasdair before or after Beeks fucked your wife?’
With a roar, Kerr surged up. He tried to flip the metal table over towards me, but it didn’t budge.
‘It’s bolted to the floor,’ I explained helpfully.
‘Barnaby!’ The lawyer stepped closer, hissing rapid instructions to his client.
Kerr’s hands were clenched into fists, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he battled to keep his temper under control.
When the brief was convinced Kerr had his shit together, he turned to me, his words coming out clipped. ‘You have his statement, Inspector, and since you have no charges, this interview is over. Come on, Mr Kerr. We’ve taken up enough of Miss Wise’s time.’
‘That’s Inspector Wise,’ I corrected.
‘Not for long!’ Kerr snarled as he stalked out.
I watched him go with satisfaction. He was rash and hot-headed.
If he was involved it was on the periphery.
He wasn’t a planner. Wasn’t cool, calm and collected like Marlow’s killer, who’d sat him down and chatted before ripping out his insides.
No, Kerr wasn’t the killer, but I’d bet he knew who it was.
And it was one of his Anti-Crea besties.