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Briggs sighed, repositioning his chair before sitting down. “We can’t afford bad publicity. The newspapers could cripple us. Have you any idea of the repercussions a picture like this will have?”
“Of course I have. I’ve been in the force long enough to realize what parasites reporters are, and how they manipulate the public. But I can’t pull answers out of thin air.”
“More’s the pity! Because before long, we’ll need to.” The atmosphere in the room descended into an icy silence before Briggs spoke again. “How did you get on with Summers?”
Gardener was surprised by the question. He’d expected Summers to have placed a formal complaint. Perhaps Briggs was playing his cards close to his chest. “I don’t like him.”
“I didn’t ask whether or not you liked him.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Gardener told Briggs about the interview, how h
e felt about Summers, and the fact that it was what he didn’t say as opposed to what he did that led Gardener to believe a further investigation of the entertainment agent was necessary.
“So, what now?” Briggs asked.
“It’s time we arrested Sutton.”
“For what?”
“Suspicion of murder. He withheld information from you,” Gardener said matter-of-factly.
Briggs sighed. “Tell me what you know.”
“The landlord of the pub in Rawston said he’d overheard Sutton threatening to kill Plum and Thornwell if he ever saw them in the pub again. Later, he was overheard swearing revenge.”
Briggs held his hands up. “None of which makes him a killer.”
“Maybe not, but he didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Well, he was never going to tell me everything. It was off the record. He was trying to bargain his way out of trouble.”
“That may be, but couple it with Fitz’s information about the syringe, and he’s definitely a suspect. Although Fitz doesn’t know what’s being used, he knows it’s injected directly into the jugular vein.
“The only way you’re going to be able to do that without a major struggle is if you drug the victim first. Or you’re extremely powerful.” Gardener sensed his superior officer’s reluctance to bring in his informant.
Briggs sighed. “Okay. Bring him in. Talk to him.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Gardener studied Sutton, wondering what made him tick. Covered in tattoos, he weighed well over twenty stone, most of which was a huge beer belly. His face still bore the bruises from his last meeting with Reilly. He didn’t work, he was unsociable, and his main source of income was drug money, according to gossip. Gardener hadn’t seen Sutton’s girlfriend, but the thought alone made him shudder.
“Let’s make it clear,” Gardener started. “You haven’t been arrested. You’re simply here to help with our inquiries. You’re free to leave whenever you want. You’ve not requested the attendance of your own solicitor, nor the duty solicitor. And you’re quite happy with DCI Briggs sitting in. Detective Sergeant Reilly and I are investigating the deaths of Herbert Plum and Bernard Thornwell. How well did you know those men?”
“I didn’t know Thornwell. Seen him in the pub a few times.”
“What about Plum?”
Sutton sighed. “I didn’t really know either of ’em.”
“When we spoke to you less than a week ago, you called Plum a pervert, which suggests to me that you did. Or at the very least, felt you knew enough to pass an opinion.”
Sutton’s temper flared. “He were trying to pull me bird for a porn film. Me there! In the same flaming pub...”
“What exactly did you say to him?”
“I said I’d punch his lights out if I caught him talking to her again.”
“And that’s all?”
