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‘But is he a murderer?’ Stacey asked.
‘Let’s hope the boss is about to find out,’ he said, collecting together the receipts. He caught her studious expression. ‘You still working on the theatre footage?’
‘Yep, I got a camera on the door that gives a good shot of people leaving once the show’s over. Just wanna see it through to the end,’ she said, glancing at the photo of the group where the boss had circled the face of Catherine Taylor.
He put the receipts into date order. The one he’d checked and verified was the last but one. The final receipt was from a small café in Quinton dated Saturday. The boss hadn’t mentioned it because it was only for a few pounds. They’d assumed she was there alone. But what if she did meet someone but only paid for her own coffee?
A quick Google search gave him the phone number for the café.
He called the number, which rang out for what seemed like forever. It was eventually answered by a deep male voice that almost shouted the name of the café and not in a welcoming tone.
Damn, he’d caught the lunchtime rush.
Penn quickly introduced himself.
‘Good for you, mate, but unless you got a massive takeout order for your whole station, I got customers to serve.’
And I’ve got a murderer to catch, Penn almost retorted but realised that wasn’t his best approach.
‘I’ll be quick. You got CCTV?’
‘You having a laugh? I make thirteen pence on a cup of coffee.’
Penn considered asking about a customer he’d served on a busy Saturday but guessed what the response would be.
‘Gotta go, fella, but the gym across the road’s got a camera that catches a couple of my outdoor tables, if that helps at all.’
With that the line went dead in his ear.
Penn wondered if he was wasting his time following up on this lead.
He considered his colleague, who was still checking the theatre even though their prime suspect was now downstairs.
He typed a new search into Google. It wasn’t over until it was over.
SEVENTY-TWO
With the formalities over and the tape switched on, Kim leaned her elbows on the table.
‘Mr Dunhill, may I clarify for the record your willingness to proceed without the presence of a legal representative?’
‘Why would I pay someone to tell you I’ve done nothing wrong when I’m perfectly capable of telling you that myself?’
Oh no, he wasn’t doing that. An obscure answer and any doubt about police protocols being followed was a defence lawyer’s dream.
‘If you can’t afford a lawyer one will be provided at—’
‘Ha, that’s laughable. No thank you, I’m fine,’ he said, changing his position and sitting to the side, much as he’d done on the footage Penn had shown her. It gave her a good indication of the derision he was feeling about his arrest.
‘I’ll have far more use for a lawyer when I’m suing you for false arrest.’
‘You’ve been arrested so that we can effect a prompt and efficient investigation into your involvement in the murders of Sandra Deakin, Azim Mahmood and Victoria Sykes.’
‘Preposterous. Your ineptitude is truly astounding. Do you really think I look like a killer?’
‘Do you think anyone actually looks like a killer?’ she asked.
‘You are wasting your time; you should be out finding the real killer, and you’ll be very quick to realise your mistake.’
