Little Boy Blue

42

‘Is he lying?’

Helen and Jonathan Gardam were huddled in the smokers’ yard, away from the prying ears of colleagues, lawyers and Gardam’s PA.

‘Hard to say for sure. He sounds genuine, but there’s a lot that links him to Elder, to the scene. Also, Lynn Picket banks with Santander – it would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to lift her card details off the system and use them for his own devices.’

‘Would he really shit on his own doorstep like that?’

‘How could you link him to it? Nearly a hundred people work in that bank, thousands more have access to their system.’

‘So what’s our next move?’

‘I’m going to go back to Meredith, see if we can link Jackson to the crime scene. They’ve got mountains of stuff – cigarettes, beer bottles, hair, spit, semen – if we can put him in the room, then we can prove he’s lying.’

‘And if we can’t? What does your instinct tell you?’

‘I don’t really believe in the copper’s gut,’ Helen replied, dropping her cigarette to the floor. Nicotine was doing nothing for her today, but that still didn’t stop her wanting another.

‘You must have a view though,’ Gardam persisted.

‘I’d be tempted to believe him, in the absence of evidence to the contrary.’

‘Why?’

‘He was in the right place at the right time but… he just doesn’t seem the type to me. This murder was unusual, elaborate and provocative. It’s a statement killing – whoever did this wants our attention. Maybe he’s a good actor, but my feeling is that Jackson doesn’t want the world to know that he likes men, likes S &M…’

Gardam nodded, even as his eye was caught by the discarded cigarette on the floor. A smudge of Helen’s lipstick was still visible on the tip.

‘He’s married, got twin boys,’ Helen continued. ‘He’s leading a double life and my instinct is that he wants to keep it that way.’

The irony of this comment wasn’t lost on Helen – this case just kept rebounding against her – and she toyed with her lighter to avoid looking directly at Gardam.

‘Do you want to hold him?’ Gardam said, interrupting Helen’s chain of thought.

‘I’m not inclined to. He’s not a flight risk – he’s too anchored in Southampton – and I don’t want to put too much pressure on him, in case we’re wrong. He seems pretty fragile to me.’

‘Well, I’ll back whatever you decide.’

‘Thank you.’

Gardam offered Helen another cigarette, which she took without hesitation.

‘I know they’re not good for you,’ he said, lighting Helen’s cigarette before fixing one for himself, ‘but I can’t do without them. I have to smoke them here as Jane thinks I’ve given up.’

Helen nodded, but didn’t play along. She’d never been comfortable with the way male colleagues deceived their wives, then enjoyed publicizing the fact.

There was a brief silence, then Gardam asked:

‘Are you ok, Helen?’

‘Sure. Why do you ask?’

‘You look very pale, that’s all. Is anything the matter?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Helen lied. ‘I’m always like this during a big investigation. I’m not a good sleeper at the best of times, so…’

‘I’m the same,’ Gardam replied. ‘Thank God for cigarettes, eh?’

‘Indeed.’

They smoked for a moment in silence. Then Helen said:

‘I’d better get back.’

Gardam nodded and Helen walked off, squeezing the last vestiges of nicotine from her dying cigarette as she did so. Gardam watched her cross the yard, his eyes never straying from her, until eventually she disappeared from view and he was left alone.