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“Didn’t tell you? Why’s that? I thought you guys had…”
He checked his notes.
“A special bond?”
Jac studied the table.
“I don’t know why he didn’t say.”
“For the recording, can you repeat that please?”
“I said, I don’t know why he didn’t tell me.”
Ellis spotted the irritation in his voice; he was starting to break him down.
“No. You thought he was off mending computer networks. So... are you now telling me that you didn’t know your so-called brother as well as you thought you did? Is that right?”
“Apparently so.”
“What about the gun?”
“Never seen it before.”
“No?”
“No.”
“And the rope?”
“The rope?”
“Yes. The climbing rope Sion tied the bar manager up with. It was the same rope he used to hang Glyn Evans.”
Jac stared blankly at Ellis.
“What happened, Jac?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re on about… Ask Sion.”
Ellis studied him carefully.
The silence bounced around the walls as Jac tensed and squirmed on the hard plastic chair.
“You’ve done well for yourself.”
“What?”
“Beautiful girl, like Annie. Big farm, lots of potential. Very good income.”
Ellis could feel him smouldering. Any second, he’d blow.
He pushed again.
“Feet well and truly under the table. It’s all working out well for you, Jac. Isn’t it?”
“What are you implying?”
“What d’you think I’m implying, Jac?”
“That I’m with Annie just for the farm? That I don’t love her?”
Jac’s voice rose in a crescendo of anger.
“Or that we cooked up a plan to kill Glyn between us? Is that what you’re saying? And that we gave Maureen terminal cancer too? This is bollocks! Utter bullshit!”
“So, how did Glyn get that rope?”
“I... don’t... know!”
???
Sion stared at the bare shadowy wall behind Ellis’ head. The video camera was on, and so far it had recorded a whole heap of nothing.
This Sion was one tough nut to crack. Trained in interrogation, no doubt.
“Tell me,” Ellis began again. “We know you’re on the Scousers’ Most Wanted list. Let’s put that to one side for now. What I’m really interested in is this climbing rope of yours. How did Glyn Evans get a hold of that rope to kill himself?”
Sion didn’t answer.
Ellis tried again.
“What did they offer you?”
Silence.
It was harder than anyone could imagine maintaining silence. Ellis thought of it as a war. Who would break first?
“How much did Jac and Annie pay you to kill Glyn Evans?”
Silence.
“For the recording, Sion Edwards refuses to answer the question.”
Nothing.
“How did you do it?”
“For the recording, Sion Edwards refuses to answer the question.”
This was ridiculous.
“Did you kill Maureen too?”
Sion gave him a sarcastic look but kept schtum.
“For the recording, Sion Edwards refuses to answer the question.”
Fifteen minutes ticked by. Twenty. Thirty.
“Interview terminated at seven-fifteen pm. Take him back to the cells.”
Ellis motioned to the uniformed officer at the door, then turned back towards Sion.
“Let’s see how a night locked up improves your communication skills, eh?”
“Hey, Carol?”
Ellis called after his colleague who’d started walking back to her office upstairs.
“Yeah?”
“Can you do us a favour and dig out Glyn Evans’ post-mortem report and get the medical records and death certificate for Maureen Evans?”
“Sure. Leave it with me.”
There had to be a point of triangulation? Something more than just the rope?
“Ellis?”
A uniformed officer came up to meet them.
“Boss wants to see you in her office. Right away.”
Dropping the files onto his cluttered desk, Ellis went to the toilets to try and smarten himself up before making his way upstairs.
CHAPTER 27
-----------?----------
“He’s free to go? But Ma’am…”
Ellis stood in front of The Superintendent, who was sitting stiffly behind the desk.
Her face was fixed as solidly as her lacquered, highlighted hair. And her sour face told him plainly that she was not in the mood to argue the toss about this.
“But, he was in possession of an illegal firearm? It’s obvious that he’s a villain.”
“He’s one of us.”
“What?”
“He’s an undercover operative. NCA. That’s why the Scousers are after him. I’ve arranged transportation for him back to London tonight. He’s going into witness protection. Throw the book at the barman. Grievous bodily harm with intent. Attempted murder, if you can make it stick. And talk to the NCA, check out the barman’s connections to the Scousers. They’ve obviously moved onto our patch.”
“But Ma’am, what about Glyn Evans?”
“What about Glyn Evans?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Ahh, you mean your farfetched hunch about the farmer suicide?”
“Yes, Ma’am. It’s hardly far-fetched though. It’s not a common rope around here, and...”
The Superintendent glared back at him and he shut up immediately.
“I’ve already examined the post-mortem report. There’s nothing. No bruising. No toxicology. No suggestions of force. But you know that already, right?”
Ellis scrunched his face.
He did.
“But Ma’am, how did Glyn get hold of the…”
She cut across him.
“Drop it, Roberts.”
“But Ma’am, with respect.”
“I said drop it.”
The words were articulated clearly and forcefully.
The post-mortem and Maureen’s medical records would hold nothing for him. It was another one of those messy endings that he hated so much.
???
“Is
Claire Williams still here?” Sion asked the female uniformed officer as she released him from the cell.
There was arranged transport back to London. But he couldn’t leave without seeing Claire first.
“Let me check.”
The officer returned to the check-in desk by the cells, a couple of minutes later.
“She’s still in reception. We’ve been struggling to get a police car to take her home, so she’s waiting on a taxi.”
“Can I see her? I won’t be long.”
The officer took him through the building to the reception area, where Sion could see Claire slumped on the padded leatherette chairs. Her head was leaning against the wall, and she’d turned her coat into a pillow. The bandaged side of her face was covered from view. Sion could see that she was exhausted.
“Claire.”
Her head rose as he called her name.
“Sion?”
He heard the nervousness in her voice. He wanted to hug her, to hold her, but he could sense her tensing up as he approached.
In the end, he sat down in the row of chairs opposite.
“How’s your neck?”
“Sore.”
She turned away from him as her eyes filled up.
Leaning across the space between them, he took her hands in his.
“Claire, look at me.”
Reluctantly, she tilted her head towards him.
As well as tears, he saw her uncertainty.
“I’m free to go. They’ve dropped all their wild accusations. I’m heading to London. Tonight. Then witness protection. Come with me.”
She shook her head and stared at the floor.
There it was. Decision made.
“I can’t.”
She was trembling. Was it from shock or was she scared of him?
“You can’t deny it. We’ve got something, you and me. Something I’ve never felt before with anyone else. Tell me you don’t feel it too?”
“I do,” she breathed.
A tear escaped, and he let go of her hand to brush it off her cheek.
The police receptionist interrupted them.
“Your taxi’s here.”
Quickly rising from the chair, she gathered her coat and bag, and made to leave.
He tried to hold her hand again as she moved past him, but she pulled it away.
“I’m sorry, Sion.”
With her head down, she began walking towards the front entrance, where the taxi was parked outside.
