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“We’re not arresting you,” said Robins.
“Then there’s no reason for me to go anywhere. We can talk right here. I’m happy to help with your enquiries.”
The way the two of them changed how they were standing, a certain readiness; if he wasn’t under arrest, it was close. He could make a fuss, make them work for this, but Foley had done this and he needed to see it through for her. He went with them in the police car.
At the station he got hot coffee and a sandwich. He got left in an interview room for hours. And then got two detectives: Pagonis and Toshber. Pagonis smelled of smoke and needed a shave. Toshber probably played netball. She had cankles and thin hair. Were they deliberately giving him mixed pairs?
Toshber took the lead, like Robins had, but she wasn’t a junior, so this wasn’t some dumb misunderstanding.
“Mr Drum, Patrick, that’s your full name?”
“It’s all you need.” They had no idea who he was. What did they think he’d done? What did Foley think he’d done?
Toshber scratched her head. “Would you state your full name for us, please?”
“Happy to, once I know why I’m here.”
She sighed. “We’ll get to that.”
“Am I under arrest?” That was almost laughable, given what he’d done was entirely legal and no court in the world would charge him with anything more severe than loitering on public property.
“That’s up to you at the moment.”
He sat back in his chair and regarded them. “I’m either under arrest or I’m not.” He watched them for a reaction and got professional poker faces. “Or you’re holding me until you can work out if I’ve done whatever you think I’ve done.”
“We just have a few questions.”
So that’s what they were doing, waiting for whatever answers he gave them to create his guilt. “Then ask them. I’ve said I’d co-operate.” He had guilt to build a monument to. If these cops rightfully owned some of that, they’d find out together.
“But you won’t give us your name. That’s not very co-operative in my
book.”
Drum laughed. “About now, you’re supposed to look at your partner so the two of you can collude.”
Toshber smiled. “TV cop shows have a lot to answer for.” She glanced at Pagonis who looked amused and shrugged.
“So I’ve been told.”
“That’s right. You live on the cliff at the beach. You’re famous. But we found you at a house on Tamar Street today. Who owns that house?”
They’d likely already know. They had access to council records, they knew who paid the rates and kept the lights on. The Benny Browning Trust. And if he gave them his name they’d know just how famous and for what.
“Someone I used to know owns the house. He lets me use it. I’m a homeless guy called Drum. That’s who you picked up. What is it you think I know?”
He was still only a homeless guy, they didn’t know anything, he hadn’t been found and he had a chance to keep it that way.
“It’s just a formality to start with your name.”
“Hmm. Let’s wait and see if my lawyer agrees with that.” A bluff, if he needed a lawyer, he’d need his rightful name again.
They exchanged a look. Toshber said. “Oh, you don’t need a lawyer. You’re just being a good citizen and helping us with an investigation.”
He still wasn’t under arrest, but he was in serious trouble. “Now who’s been watching too much TV. My name is Drum.”
“Okay.” Toshber smiled showing lipstick on a Bugs Bunny front tooth. “We can work with that.”
He nodded. From here it would get tricky. Everything up to here was babysitting, everything after was pre-sentencing.
