Consequences (32 page)

It was a strange feeling, sitting in the familiar interview room, opposite a man whom Dylan had interviewed with many times before. The atmosphere was electric as Larry’s opaque eyes met his. Larry’s solicitor spoke directly, after the introduction and caution for the purpose of the tape.

‘My client denies emphatically the murder of anyone, or indeed any wrongdoing, other than a relationship with a married woman. That said, of course he will assist you all he can with your enquiries.’

‘Mr Banks is very capable of speaking for himself, Mrs Perfect.’ Dylan said, turning to Larry. ‘You know why you’ve been arrested. Can you tell us what your relationship was with Mrs Reynolds?’

Larry cleared his throat. ‘She came on to me; her husband was inside. I know I shouldn’t have, but you know me and women Jack: temptation got the better of me.’ His lips curled in a half smile. ’With the breathalyser job pending, it was a bit of light hearted relief; a bit of fun, that’s all it was.’

‘So when did you last see her?’

‘You obviously know, because you’ll have examined her house, it was the night before she was killed.’

‘So tell me then, how you met and how the evening went,’ continued Dylan.

‘She gave me information about Malcolm Reynolds and his business dealings, which helped us put him away.’ Larry sighed. ‘I hadn’t seen or heard from her since, until she texted me, right out of the blue, saying she’d just come across my phone number.’

‘Just like that.’ Dylan scoffed.

‘Yeah, straight up. I met up with her at her house and before I knew it we were in bed,’ he sniggered. ‘Well, you know what I’m like.’

‘Did she call you on the mobile you’ve got now?’ Vicky asked.

‘No, not this one,’ he said, shuffling in his seat.

‘Don’t worry; we’ve got your old phone number, Larry. You’re billing and cell site information, as you’re aware, will show your contacts and where it’s been used.’ Dylan said, wishing he’d already got the data.

‘I’ve nothing to hide, feel free.’

‘Why did you clear off after you’d spent the night with her?’ asked Vicky.

‘I was going on my holidays, you can check. The van was planned and I’d a ferry to catch.’ Larry shrugged his shoulders.

‘So when did you and how did you find out about the death of Liz Reynolds?’ Vicky continued.

‘I saw the headlines in a newspaper while I was away.’

‘Why didn’t you come straight back?’

‘I was on holiday, wasn’t I? She was a one-night stand for God’s sake. What would you have liked me to do? I sent a note to Dylan.’

‘Drink’s not affected your memory then?’Vicky commented.

‘No.’

‘So, a bit of light relief for you and then she was murdered the next day, just like that,’ Vicky said.

He didn’t reply.

‘Was Liz being blackmailed?’ Dylan pushed him.

‘She didn’t say.’ Larry said, his voice rising.

‘You’re lying to me Larry,’ he tutted, shaking his head. ‘I’d expect better, but there again, why should I?’

‘No...no, straight up I don’t know...if she was, I wish she’d have told me, then I might ‘have been able to do something to help her.’

Larry was gambling on his knowledge regarding the time it took for the team to get the telephone data back, and Dylan knew it.

‘She’d all night to talk to me...but she didn’t say ought.’

‘So you’re telling me you didn’t see any money?’

‘I never saw any money.’

‘Your prints won’t be on the suitcase that we found at the scene then?’

Dylan held his breath; he didn’t have any evidence or information on the suitcase, but his gut instinct told him that if Larry was involved then his fingerprints would be on the suitcase.

‘Inspector, I must interrupt...if you have my client’s fingerprints why haven’t you disclosed that to me?’ asked Mrs Perfect.

Dylan ignored her comment.

‘Well, Larry?’

‘Well what? I touched all sorts of things in her home, which I’m sure you’re well aware of. I never saw any money though. I left early the next morning as she didn’t want any gossip getting back to Malcolm. I was well on my way before she …’ He gulped.

Was he upset? Dylan couldn’t read him. Larry was sat on his hands. Dylan knew he was being shrewd. He was giving away as little body language as possible; controlling his reactions. He’d had plenty of time, knowing what he knew, to rehearse the interview in his mind, before giving himself up.

‘So tell me, why did you wait so long to make contact with us, if everything was as innocent as you say? Or, for that matter, feel that you had to profess your innocence?’ Dylan asked.

‘With the old man…’

‘Fred White’s his name,’ Vicky interrupted.

‘Fred White, being on a life support machine...going to court for drink-driving...knowing I was going to lose my job and my pension, enough for you?’

‘Do you know Malcolm Reynolds, Larry?’

‘You know I do, coz I was part of the team that got him sent down.’

‘He says he knows you.’

‘And your point is?’

‘Well, we had to go and tell him about his wife’s last known movements and who she was with; and apart from being very angry he told us you were bent.’

‘I’m sorry inspector: I have to object to your line of questioning. My client has been arrested on suspicion of murder.’ Mrs Perfect said.

‘You just did,’ Dylan nodded to Mrs Perfect. ‘Larry, is Malcolm telling the truth?’

‘No, he isn’t. Tell me what con wouldn’t be angry if they’d just been told their wife had been found dead, and the night before, she’d slept with another man and that other man just happened to be a copper? He’s just trying to get his own back, I can understand that. Like I said, I’m not your murderer.’ Larry was keeping his cool.

The interview was going nowhere, and after forty minutes it was concluded.

Dylan walked quickly back up to the incident room, with Vicky running in the wake of his long strides. Their shift was far from over.

‘Boy is he a slime ball. Urgh …’ Vicky griped as she caught up with Dylan.

‘Let’s try and get something that will rock him a bit, before round two, eh? The bastard’s lying, I know he is.’

Jen went to bed early in the hope that tomorrow would come quickly. As much as she tried to sleep, Dylan’s absence made it harder for her to nod off. What if she had cancer? She tossed and turned. Her stomach grumbled. She got up and took two paracetamols. The sight of the blood on the plate, that had ran from the Sirloin steak in the fridge, made her wretch as she took out the milk. It would have to wait for another night to be cooked, a night when her stomach allowed her to cook it, and Dylan was home to eat it.

It was pitch black outside the station, with not even a star visible in the sky but the incident room was a hive of activity and Dylan wanted a debrief before the next interview. The update from forensics gave them the information, that pages retrieved from amongst the ashes near the suitcase, were definitely law books. On arrest, Larry had had one hundred and thirty seven pounds on him, plus keys for his flat and two post office receipts. Unfortunately, getting evidence from the SIM card of Liz Reynolds’ phone was not as easy as first thought. Carbon deposits had to be removed, which was a slow process, and it wouldn’t be known for the next seventy-two hours if the process had worked or not.

Dylan was tense but focused, as they went into the next interview. He knew that Larry Banks, with all his experience of interviewing, wouldn’t simply roll over. He opened up after the formalities.

‘Was Liz Reynolds studying law, Larry?’

‘No idea. Why?’ he said, looking surprised.

‘Because her suitcase the bank had filled with money the day before her murder, was found to contain nothing but law books.’

‘I don’t know what she was up to, I don’t think we discussed it,’ he said momentarily, looking up to the ceiling as if in thought. ’I once took her some of my old books round because she was arranging a book sale to raise money for Harrowfield Hospice. I’ve no idea why she would have kept ‘em though, and why she would have them in the suitcase, if they were the same ones that is.’ He looked puzzled. ’Perhaps she was on the way to the charity shop with ’em.’

‘So, you admit to having seen Liz recently, to give her the law books?’ Vicky pushed him.

‘Well no, not that recently,’ he said quickly.

‘When?’ Vicky threw back her question sharply.

‘Er...I don’t know the exact date.’

‘We’re safe to assume that you kept in touch with her enough for her to ask and for you to give her the law books, since Malcolm’s imprisonment?’ Vicky continued.

‘Well, yes......no...not as such,’ he replied.

Dylan sighed; he was tired but spoke with great emphasis. ‘We’re fortunate that the SIM card from her mobile phone has been recovered, and it’s only slightly damaged. That’s being examined as we speak. In a short while we’ll know who she was ringing and texting before her death. I’m giving you the opportunity to come clean, now Larry.’

‘I’ve told you all I know. I don’t know anything about her murder.’ His repetitive answers were becoming annoying. Dylan stretched his shirt collar away from his sweating neck and undid his tie.

‘You’ve two receipts in your property, for posting two articles earlier today. What were they?’ Dylan asked.

‘I posted the keys to the motor van hire company.’ Larry said clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat again. Dylan could see by his body language that he was taken aback by that revelation. Why did that bother, him he wondered?

‘Why didn’t you drop the mobile home back at the garage?’ Vicky asked, moving on.

‘Too risky. I didn’t want to spend any longer in the cells than I had. If I’d  have been running the operation, I’d have had officers waiting for me to return it. I’m not bloody stupid.’ He laughed confidently.

‘Do you know Frankie Miller, Larry?’ asked Dylan.

‘No.’

‘have you seen Malcolm Reynolds since he was sent to prison?’ Dylan said.

‘Once, briefly, to sign away some of his property we’d got in the property store.’

Larry seemed very positive, Dylan noted, as his replies once again became sharply answered. The interview plan systematically went through Larry’s movements to Dover and France, and his return journey before Larry was taken back to the cell.

‘Inspector Dylan,’ said Mrs Perfect, ‘Could I have a word, please?’

‘Of course.’

‘Mr Banks has been totally co-operative with you. Now, you haven’t put any hard and fast evidence to him connecting him to the actual murder. It would appear he was elsewhere when the murder took place, unless you tell me otherwise of course?’

Dylan stood, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor.

‘He might be guilty of immoral behaviour with another man’s wife, but on this arrest I’d expect him to be bailed, unless of course you’ve some startling evidence you’ve not yet disclosed?’

‘Time will tell.’ Dylan said, sighing tiredly.

‘I know there’ll be an adjournment on his drink-driving case. You know there is no evidence to keep him in custody. Be assured I’ll be pursuing his release in court.’

Dylan squirmed; he knew she was right. They would have to give him bail wouldn’t they; they had nothing on him. ‘Smarmy git.’ Dylan seethed, under his breath.

‘She’s right boss,’ Vicky said thoughtfully, as they walked down the corridor, back to the office.

‘Even so, he deserves to spend the night in the cells,’ Dylan said. ’Get someone to make enquiries at the post office about them receipts he’d got in his pocket. They’re bound to have someone at the sorting office overnight.’

‘Will do boss, the cheeky twat must have swapped the books for the money.’

‘If we found the money, Vicky, we could hold him on the charge of theft, and then we could speak to the CPS with regard to the murder charge, although it’d probably have to be dropped to manslaughter.

‘Yeah, if he hadn’t swapped it over she might still be alive, and we could at least charge him with summat.’

When he eventually crawled into bed in the early hours, Dylan’s whole body ached. Jen looked so peaceful in her slumber, as he bent over to kiss her forehead. The white cotton duvet was wrapped tightly around her and he was afraid to pull it too hard in case he woke her, so he lay beside her. She usually woke when he arrived home no matter what time it was. She must be really tired, he decided. He was cold and his mind was buzzing. He switched on the television and muted it, so the soundless vision took his mind off trying to unravel Larry’s thought process. He pulled a blanket over himself and listened to her shallow breathing. Within minutes he too was fast asleep.

The next morning, the sound of the telephone ringing woke them. The bedside clock showed it was 6 a.m.

‘We’ve just been informed that Malcolm Reynolds is on the run from open prison, sir,’ John shouted down the phone. ’I thought you’d want to know immediately.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Dylan groaned, as he threw his legs out of bed. He got dressed as quickly as he could, hopping into the bathroom to clean his teeth as he tried to put on his shoes. Jen opened her eyes and watched him scurry around the room, but she didn’t move. He bent down to kiss her goodbye. His lips were warm and tasted of peppermint. Her stomach heaved.

‘You okay, love?’ he asked as he stroked her warm face. ‘I’ve gotta go.’

‘Yeah, just feel a bit sickly that’s all.’ She yawned.

‘Maybe you’re coming down with a virus or something. Take today off, I’m sure they can manage at work without you for a day,’ he said, kissing her forehead before heading to the door.

‘Yeah, I might,’ she said, stretching her arms from under the covers. It was cold and she quickly put them back under the duvet and shivered. He turned off the light.

‘See you when I see you,’ he whispered before he gently closed the door. She heard him rush down the steps. ‘Turn over and rest...I’ll let them know in admin,’ he shouted, and then she heard the door slam behind him. It was quiet and dark once more and she buried her head beneath the duvet and drifted back to sleep.