AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ne hand, which he exchanged for a full one.
‘Ah, Mr Bicknell,’ Holden called across the room. ‘We’ve just been watching this.’
He took a swig of wine, and moved towards them, a large grin across his flushed face.
‘Not my best work, I’m afraid.’ He spoke expansively, as if he was a photographer with a long and distinguished career. ‘Didn’t quite get the exposure right, and the shots are too long. In fact, I nearly didn’t bother with it, but then I thought what the hell, it’s not taking up a lot of space.’
‘Can I have a copy,’ Holden cut in.
‘If you really want to.’
‘Tonight if possible!’
Bicknell shrugged. ‘OK. I’ve got a back-up CD in Les’s office. Just in case anything went wrong.’ And he walked off towards a door at the back of the room.
‘We’ll come with you,’ Holden said, beckoning Lawson to follow.
‘No need,’ Bicknell said, as he unlocked the door.
‘Actually, there is every need. We need a chat with you. Now, sir, if you don’t mind.’
Bicknell turned to look at her, suddenly wary at her change of manner. ’This is hardly the time—’
‘This is exactly the time, sir’ Holden interrupted, her voice low but insistent. ‘We need to have a conversation right now, and we can either do it discreetly and very quickly here, or my constable can whistle up a car and we can do it down at the station. But that would, of course, take a lot longer—’ She allowed her sentence to fade to a stop, and waited for his response.
‘Not much of a bloody choice, is it,’ he snarled, before pushing his way angrily into the office.
Holden waited for Lawson to shut the door behind them, and then reverted to a more conciliatory manner.
‘So, Ed, tell me where this idea of a suicide plaque came from? Did someone put you up to it?’
He looked at her in disbelief. ‘Put me up to it? What the hell do you mean? It was my bloody idea. Mine, and no one else’s.’
Holden considered apologising, but decided that would be being altogether too friendly. ‘OK, so what gave you the idea?’
He looked hard at her again, but this time there was no visible emotion in his face, and when he spoke he did so in a matter-of-fact way. ‘My father killed himself. He was an alcoholic, you see, a drunk. First he crashed the car while under the influence, and killed my mother, and then, three months later, he walked to the top of a car park and jumped.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Holden replied, and paused, though only briefly before continuing her questioning: ‘Can I ask when you decided to do your blue plaque—’ Again she tailed off, but this time it was because she was struggling to find the right word.
‘Installation?’ Bicknell suggested.
‘Right, installation.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe six months ago, maybe more.’
‘Really? So will you tell me why you decided to do it on that particular Friday after a such a gap?’
‘Well, I suppose I just kept putting it off and putting it off until I couldn’t put it off any longer.’
‘So you woke up early one morning and just decided on the spur of the moment to do it, did you?’
‘Of course I bloody didn’t. I had to prepare for it, didn’t I? I had to make the plaque, and organize my cameras and work out exactly the best position.’
‘Did you discuss your installation with your fellow students?’
‘You must be joking. I didn’t want them nicking my idea.’
‘So you didn’t discuss it with anyone? Not even your tutor?’
