Page 76 of The Unforgiven

He spat on the floor. I didn’t flinch; I’d seen much worse as a four-year-old and it was surprising what you remembered from that age.

“Where did you spend your summers, Dean?”

He stared at me, saying nothing.

“If you can give us a few answers, it’ll help you to prove you didn’t do the things we’re asking you about.” I kept my voice quiet, almost lady-like.

He continued to stare at me.

“Did you know someone called Dolly, Dean? Maybe as teenagers?”

He looked at his solicitor, the poor bugger who’d been on duty when Dean had been arrested. I’d worked with him before, and he was a good bloke, efficient and supportive, and did his job well. “I’m not speaking to that femoid.”

I practically saw Vinny’s ears prick up and a glimmer flicker over his face. This was gold for him, an opportunity to legitimately tear Dean a new one.

“See how she’s looking at him. Fucking femoid Stacey, always looking out for a new cock.” He spat again.

Vinny stood up. “But not yours. And that’s your problem because you’re such a self-pitying, shit-filled loser no womanwill look sideways at you, and rather than have a good look at yourself like a real man would do, you blame them. You think you have a God-given right to have a woman to fuck, but you don’t.” He folded his arms, his shoulders broadening. “Not answering the questions Detective Sergeant McAllister is asking you is making you look like you killed those women and you know where Evelyn Smith is. That you have her somewhere. It isn’t helping your case.”

“I’m not answering the femoid.” Dean looked slightly intimidated, probably not as much as Vinny hoped though.

“So answer me. Where did you go on holiday when you were a kid?” He sat down next to me, leaning a little over the table.

Dean stared at him, his rather podgy frame stopping any chance of him looking threatening.

“Spain. Every year. The girls were the same there. Wastes of space unless they were on their back.” He fixed his eyes on me again.

“Do you know anyone called Dolly?” If Vinny’s glare could bore holes in someone, Dean would be transparent now.

“No.”

“Do you know Evelyn Smith?”

“She’s that bint who thinks she’s entitled to show her face everywhere just because she’s whoring herself out to a footballer. He’s a cunt as well. Waste of space, just because he can kick a ball.” His words were sneers.

“Have you ever commented on one of her posts?” Vinny kneed me under the table, a signal for me to take over.

“Yeah. Someone needs to tell her what she’s worth. Classic Stacey flex with all her worth in her face and her arse.”

It was almost word for word what he’d left on her social media post.

“What about Brooke O’Hara, Dean?” I kept my tone like that of a sweet, compliable female. “Did you leave her any words of wisdom?”

He almost hissed at me. “Did I not tell you not to speak to me?”

“You didn’t actually tell me anything. You refused to speak to me. Did Brooke or Evelyn ever respond? Did someone ever comment back? How did you take it, Dean, when Brooke gave it back? Called you an incel prick, and she’s right, isn’t she?” I stood up now, missing the gob of saliva he sent my way.

“Fuck off, bitch!” He stood up, lunging towards me, the table in the way.

Vinny got to his feet, seeing the possibilities of an opportunity to have a bit of rough and tumble.

The duty solicitor also got to his feet, putting his hands on his client’s shoulders and pushing him down on the chair with ease. “Sit down and stop spitting.” He looked at us. “I’d like half an hour with my client.”

I looked at Vinny, gave him an almost imperceptible nod. We exited to the sound of Dean starting to sob.

“It isn’t him.” Vinny paused as soon as we were a few paces away from the interview room. “He wants people to think it is then he can ride on the reputation, but he doesn’t know a thing about the murders.”

“What’s changed your mind? You were convinced half an hour ago.”