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“Where were you?” Gardener repeated.
Manny leaned forward. “I’m not going down for something I haven’t done.”
“You might if you don’t tell us where you were,” said Reilly.
“Bit touchy, aren’t we, Mr Walters?” said Gardener.
“I know what you lot are like. You’re not pinning a murder on me I haven’t committed.”
“So you have committed some?”
“No,” shouted Manny.
“Pleased to hear it. Last chance, where were you?”
Manny sighed and sat back. “At home.”
“All night?”
“Yes.”
“Can anyone corroborate your movements?” asked Gardener.
“What does that mean?”
“Can anyone confirm you were at home all evening? Your neighbour, perhaps?”
“Ask her.”
“We will. Now, at the risk of repeating myself, were you at home all evening?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Nothing.”
Gardener found that hard to believe. Not the fact that he was at home all night – though he suspected that was a lie – but doing nothing; everyone did something.
“You’re not making things easy for yourself, son. What were you doing? Watching TV, listening to music, reading a book? You must have been doing something.”
“Look, I’ve told you, I don’t know. Maybe I had something to eat with Mary.”
“Who’s Mary?”
“My next-door neighbour. She cooks things for me, casseroles and stuff, brings them over. Sometimes we eat together, other times we don’t. She has to go and see her mother in the care home.”
“What do you do, Mr Walters?”
“Do?”
“For a living?” Gardener figured he was wasting his time asking that question, judging by Manny’s track record for arrests.
“Nothing.”
