Little Boy Blue

24

Paul Jackson was between meetings and resentful of Charlie’s intrusion. He was a manager at the Shirley branch of Santander – a position of some responsibility – and was clearly embarrassed by her presence. His eyes kept flicking to the clock and his answers – when they came – were brief.

‘So just to confirm, that phone number – 07768 057374 – belongs to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you had your phone with you last night?’

‘I think so.’

‘Can I ask where you were? Between the hours of ten p.m. and two a.m.?’

There was a moment’s pause, before Jackson responded:

‘I went for a drink after work. Watched the football. Then went home.’

‘Oh, right, who was playing?’

Another slight hesitation, then:

‘Saints versus Watford. Easy win.’

‘And which pub was this?’

‘The Saracen’s Head, near the hospital.’

‘Bit out of your way, isn’t it?’

‘There are pubs closer to the office, but the beer’s better there, so…’

‘And you went with colleagues?’

‘No, I went by myself.’

‘Right,’ Charlie replied, making a note on her pad. ‘And what time would you say you got home?’

‘A little after midnight, I think.’

‘That’s pretty late for a school night, isn’t it?’ Charlie replied, smiling.

For the first time, Jackson seemed lost for words.

‘Is it usual for you to be out that late?’ she continued.

‘Not really, but it’s not one of those pubs where they kick you out after last orders.’

‘Lock in, was it?’

‘Something like that.’

‘I didn’t realize they did those on Tuesday nights.’

She smiled once more, but Jackson only gave her a tight grimace. He was nervous and uncomfortable and his answers were a little too stiff for Charlie’s liking. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation – most people tensed up as soon as they saw a warrant card – but Charlie suspected that was not the case here. Fortunately there was one surefire way to find out.

‘Your phone number has come up in our investigation into the death of Jake Elder. His body was found in the early hours of this morning at a nightclub in Banister Park. You probably heard the headlines on the radio.’

Jackson nodded, but said nothing.

‘A series of messages were sent to Mr Elder from your phone. Snapchat messages organizing appointments with him -’

‘I didn’t send any messages.’

‘So you don’t know Mr Elder?’

Jackson shook his head.

‘Have you ever visited the Torture Rooms?’

‘No,’ Jackson replied quickly. ‘I’d never even heard of them until this morning.’

‘And you’ve never used Mr Elder’s services?’

‘Of course not.’

‘No contact with him whatsoever?’

‘No.’

‘Ok then, I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll get out of your hair…’

Charlie could see the relief on Jackson’s face.

‘But, before I do, I would be grateful if you’d consent to provide a DNA sample. Just so we can strike your name off our list.’

‘Clearly my phone has been cloned or someone at your end has cocked up. As I’ve said, I didn’t know the guy, I’ve never met him -’

‘I know this seems intrusive, but as we’ve established that you were out last night and were in the vicinity of the club in question, we’ll need to eliminate you from our enquiries and, believe me, this is the quickest way to do that.’

‘I’m not sure. I’m already late for my next meet-’

‘It is your right to refuse, but we could later compel you to provide one. So what do you say? I’ve got a swab here. It will only take a few hours to process and that will be that. All being well, I’ll never darken your door again.’

Keeping up her breezy patter, Charlie pulled the swab tube from her bag. Jackson stared at her, saying nothing. Before, he looked angry, now he just looked empty. He seemed determined to resist, to try and pretend this wasn’t happening, but Charlie had done this many times before and knew that insistent good humour often overcomes the fiercest of objections. If you give them nothing to argue with, they have nowhere to run.

Which is why, despite his unmistakable hostility, Paul Jackson now opened his mouth. Slipping the swab in, Charlie extracted the necessary skin cells and sealed them in the clear plastic tube.

‘That’s me done. Thank you for your time,’ she said, shaking Paul Jackson’s hand and heading for the door.

Moments later, Charlie was out of the foyer and walking fast away from the building. As she went, she chanced a look back. Her suspicions had been raised by her interview and she wasn’t surprised by what she now saw.

Paul Jackson staring right back at her through the window.