Waiting for Wednesday

EIGHT

‘Can I have a cup of tea?’ said Billy Hunt. ‘I want a cup of tea and I want a lawyer. Tea with milk and two sugars, and a lawyer sitting next to me for every moment that you’re inter-viewing me.’

Munster turned to Riley. ‘Hear that?’ he said.

Riley left the interview room.

‘And a lawyer,’ said Hunt.

‘Wait.’

They sat in silence until Riley returned. He placed the polystyrene cup on the table in front of Hunt, with two sachets of sugar and a plastic stirrer. Slowly, and with great concentration, Hunt tore the sachets open, tipped their contents into the tea and stirred them. He sipped the tea.

‘And a lawyer,’ he repeated.

There was a digital recorder on the table. Munster leaned forward to switch it on. As he spoke the day’s date and identified the people in the room he looked at the device to check that the light was flashing. There was always the worry that it wasn’t working properly. Cases collapsed because of details like that.

‘We’re interviewing you on suspicion of handling stolen property. I’m going to caution you that you don’t have to say anything, but that anything you say can be used in evidence. Also, if you remain silent, that fact can be presented to the court.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Hunt.

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Munster. ‘And I probably do this sort of thing even more often than you do.’

Hunt drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I guess I can’t smoke.’

‘No, you can’t.’

‘I can’t think when I don’t smoke.’

‘You don’t need to think. You just need to answer some questions.’

‘And what about my lawyer?’

‘I was about to inform you that you are entitled to legal representation, and that if you don’t have representation of your own, we can arrange it for you.’

‘Of course I don’t have fucking legal representation of my own. So, yeah, get me one. I want a lawyer sitting here beside me.’

‘It doesn’t work like that any more,’ said Munster. ‘Money’s tight. That’s what they’re telling us. We can bring you a phone and a phone number.’

‘Is that it?’ Hunt seemed baffled. ‘No cigs and no lawyers?’

‘You can talk to one on the phone.’

‘All right,’ said Hunt. ‘Get a phone.’

It was twenty minutes before Billy Hunt had finished on the phone, Munster and Riley were back in the room and the recorder was on again.

‘So,’ Munster began. ‘You’ve talked to your lawyer.’

‘It was a bad line,’ said Hunt. ‘I couldn’t make out most of what she was saying. She had an accent as well. I don’t reckon English is her first language.’

‘But she gave you legal advice?’

‘Is that what you call legal advice? Why can’t I get a real lawyer?’

‘If you’ve got a problem, you can take it up with your MP. But that’s the way the system works now.’

‘Why is that window all boarded up?’

‘Because someone threw a brick at it.’

‘Can’t you get it mended?’

‘I don’t really think that’s your problem.’

‘And the room at the front – it’s like a building site. You’ll be next,’ he said. ‘You’ll be out looking for a real job like the rest of us.’

‘You’ve now officially got legal representation,’ said Munster. ‘Take a look at this.’ He slid a piece of paper across the table.

Hunt examined it with a puzzled expression. ‘What’s this?’ he said.

‘An inventory.’

‘What’s that?’

‘A list of what was stolen. Including, as you’ll see, the silver forks you sold. Is there anything else there you remember?’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Those forks were all I got.’

‘From Dave,’ said Munster.

‘That’s right.’

‘So,’ Munster went on, ‘the items we retrieved were part of a larger haul, but you never saw the rest.’

‘That’s right.’

‘And your link to this theft was Dave, whose second name you don’t know, who you think lives south of the river, and who you have no means of contacting.’

Hunt shifted awkwardly in his seat. ‘You know the way things are,’ he said.

‘And your only alibi for the day of the burglary would be provided by a man called Ian, also with no second name, now currently on his travels. And uncontactable.’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Hunt.

‘In other words,’ said Munster, ‘you can’t tell us anything we can check, apart from what we already know.’

‘You’re police,’ said Hunt. ‘I don’t know what you can check and what you can’t check.’

‘Of course, if you were to put us in touch with whoever passed that silver to you, we’d seriously consider dropping the charge against you.’

‘Then I wish I could put you in touch with him.’

‘Dave?’

‘Yeah. But I can’t.’

‘Is there anything at all you can tell us?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Hunt. ‘Just ask.’

‘Where did you spend last night? At least you can tell us that.’

‘I’ve been moving around,’ said Hunt. ‘I haven’t got anywhere regular.’

‘You can only sleep in one place at a time. Where did you sleep last night?’

‘It’s in these flats, down near Chalk Farm. There’s this friend of mine, friend of a friend. He’s away. He lets me doss down there.’

‘What’s the address?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Then take us there.’

It was a short drive, then the three of them – Munster, Riley and Hunt – walked into the courtyard of the battered, dishevelled estate and up a staircase. On the third floor, Munster stopped and leaned on the balcony railing, looking across at the William Morris building. They were in the John Ruskin building. Beyond were houses that, even now, were worth more than a million pounds but here one in every three or four flats was boarded up, waiting for a renovation that had probably been put on hold until someone was ready to pay for it. Hunt walked along the balcony and stopped. He took out a key from his jacket pocket and unlocked a front door.

‘Stop,’ Munster said. ‘Don’t go in. You wait out here with DC Riley.’

He stepped inside and immediately was reminded of his early days in the force when he had spent much of his time in places like this. It was a smell of mustiness, damp, some food going off somewhere. It was the smell of not bothering, of giving up. He recognized it all. The grubby linoleum, the dirty sofas and chairs in the living room, everything grubby and old, except the large new flat-screen TV. In the kitchen, the sink was full of dishes; there was a greasy frying pan on the hob. He was seeking something that didn’t fit, something different from the usual crap, and it didn’t seem as if he was going to find it. Had Hunt got rid of everything? He should probably send some officers round for a proper search, if he could get them. Because Hunt was right. Legal aid had been cut and now it was the police’s turn. But then he went into the bathroom and there, finally, was something. He pulled on his plastic gloves. It was too big for an evidence bag. He called Riley and Hunt inside.

‘What’s that doing here?’

‘It’s a cog,’ said Riley. ‘It looks like it should be in some big old machine.’

There was a pause.

‘Why shouldn’t it be in a bathroom?’ said Hunt. ‘It looks nice. Shiny. It’s a decoration.’

‘You weren’t admiring its shininess,’ said Munster. ‘You were washing it. Where did you get a thing like this from? It’s hardly usual.’

‘It was from that guy.’

‘Dave?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Why didn’t you mention it?’

‘It wasn’t on your list.’

‘Why were you washing it?’

‘So that it would be nice and shiny when I sold it.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Munster.

Karlsson, when Munster returned with the cog, held it for a moment, turning it over, feeling its heft and weight. Then he went to see Russell Lennox, who was sitting slack and passive in an armchair, staring ahead with bloodshot eyes.

‘Mr Lennox,’ he said, holding the cog, which was cold in his gloved hands. ‘Do you recognize this object?’

Russell Lennox gazed at the cog for several seconds without speaking. His lips were bloodless.

‘Is that –’ He stopped and pressed the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. ‘Is that what she was killed with?’

‘We believe so. Yes. But you didn’t mention it among the items that were stolen.’

‘No. I didn’t notice it was gone. It was just a thing we had on our mantelpiece. Ruth picked it up from some skip a couple of years ago. She said it would scrub up nicely, unlike me and Ted.’ His face worked and he made a visible effort to control his emotions. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Your wife’s blood was on it.’

‘I see.’ Russell Lennox turned away. ‘I don’t want to look at it any more.’

Munster restarted the recorder. ‘We’ve been busy,’ he said. ‘Things have changed. Now, this is your last chance to co-operate. Where did you get the cog?’

Hunt’s eyes flickered between him and Riley. ‘I said. From Dave.’

‘All right. That’s enough of this crap.’ Munster stood up and left the room.

Hunt looked at Riley. ‘What did I say?’

‘He’s cross,’ said Riley. ‘You don’t want to make him cross.’

‘Fucking shut up,’ said Hunt. ‘So is this some trick so I suddenly think you’re my friend?’

‘I was just saying.’

A few moments later Munster came back into the room with Karlsson. He pulled a chair across and the two of them sat down. Munster placed a closed brown cardboard file on the table and looked across at Hunt. ‘Let it be noted that DCI Karlsson has joined the interview,’ he said. ‘William Hunt, the next time you want to wash blood off a murder weapon, I’d pop it in the dishwasher. If you rinse it under the tap, you always leave a bit. As you did.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Russell Lennox has identified it. They kept it on their mantelpiece as a sort of work of art. A dense and heavy work of art. Three days ago it was used to fatally assault one Ruth Lennox. You’ve been identified disposing of articles that were taken from the murder scene. The murder weapon has been found at a flat where you were staying. You’ve admitted attempting to clean it. It has your fingerprints on it. We are about to charge you with the murder of Ruth Lennox and with the burglary. Now, Mr Hunt, have you got anything to say? It’ll make it a great deal easier for all of us if you just admit what you did, write out a statement and the judge will regard you with some degree of sympathy.’

There was a long pause.

‘There wasn’t anyone called Dave,’ said Hunt.

‘Of course there wasn’t anyone called Dave,’ said Munster. ‘And?’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I did the burglary.’

Another pause.

‘And? What about Ruth Lennox?’

‘You won’t believe me,’ said Hunt.

‘Believe you?’ said Munster. ‘You’ve been lying solidly ever since we met you. Just own up.’

There was another, even longer, pause. To Riley it appeared that Hunt was doing a complicated mental calculation.

‘I did the burglary,’ he said finally. ‘But I didn’t kill her. I admit, I broke in, I took the stuff from the kitchen. But I was only there for a minute. The alarm was going so I was in a rush. I went into the other room and she was on the floor. I just ran.’

‘You didn’t just run,’ said Munster. ‘We found you with the object that was used to kill her.’

‘I picked it up. On the way out.’

Karlsson stood up. ‘We’ve got you at the scene. And you’ve been lying all the way along the line. You’re going away for this one.’ He nodded at Munster. ‘Just get the paperwork ready.’