They woke him with a mug of tea and a soggy bacon roll. He felt cramped and stiff. The sky through the high window of the cell was grey and dead-looking. They’d asked him if he wanted to phone anyone but he’d said no. He wondered what had happened at the airfield. What Lee Carter was doing. What Lee Carter would do. Safer to be in here.
Jesus. In here. He looked around in disbelief. What had he said? What was the one thing he was never going to do? Still, they couldn’t send him down just for picking up a car in one street and driving it to an airfield and leaving it there. If he said nothing, they’d have to let him go. They opened the door again to let him out to the toilets. He washed his hands and sluiced his face, combed his hair. He looked like the sky, grey and dead.
‘OK, interview room. Hope you know it was the DCI tailing you last night.’
Bloody hell.
He waited, sitting at the table. There was the same rectangle of blank sky. They brought him another cup of tea he didn’t want. Then the two of them came in.
‘Andrew Philip Gunton.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m DCI Simon Serrailler, this is DS Nathan Coates.’
Bloody Coates. What would Michelle say? ‘Jumped-up little prick.’
Andy said nothing. The DCI looked terrible and his hand was bandaged. He was holding his arm awkwardly.
‘Interview commenced 8.13 a.m. OK, Gunton, what were you doing driving a stolen Jaguar XKV, registration number 188 KVM, at around 2.30 a.m. on Tuesday March 14th?’
‘I didn’t know it was stolen.’
‘Really? Dreamed you won the lottery?’
Bloody cocky little Coates.
‘No.’
‘What were you doing with it?’
‘Taking it to the airfield.’
‘Why?’
‘I was told to.’
‘Who by?’
‘No comment.’
‘Where did you take it from?’
‘I picked it up.’
‘Where from?’
‘Grasmere Avenue.’
‘What was it doing there?’
‘How should I know? I just went to collect it.’
‘So someone told you it would be there.’
‘No one told me.’
‘How did you know?’
He did not answer. He’d said enough.
‘Had you driven this car before, Gunton?’
‘Never seen it.’
‘What’s the scam then? You just the runner or is there more?’
‘Don’t know what you’re on about.’
The DCI shifted in his chair and winced faintly. Leaned forward. ‘Who was it tried to run me over last night?’
‘What?’
‘On the airfield.’
‘Not while I was there.’
‘No, just after you’d gone. Someone drove in there and picked me up in the headlights. When they did that, they thought they’d better flatten me. Who was it?’
Andy shrugged. But he was thinking hard and he didn’t like what he’d heard. Driving a car from A to B was one thing. Getting involved in anything like he had before …
‘You heard of David Angus?’
Andy looked up. The DCI was boring holes into him.
‘Be hard not to. I told you before.’
‘Did you ever see him?’
‘No. Not that I know of, any road.’
‘You didn’t pick him up in the Jaguar on the morning of –’
Andy stood up, almost knocking the chair over. ‘No I fuckin’ did not.’
‘Sit down. Did you drive the same Jaguar down Sorrel Drive on –’
‘No, I did not,’ he shouted.
‘Listen, Andy …’ So it was Andy suddenly. ‘It don’t look too brilliant for you. Two thirty in the morning. Driving a stolen car. A car of the kind known to have been in the street from which the boy disappeared.’
‘That’s got sod all to do with me. I wouldn’t touch a kid and you know it.’
‘Do I? How do I?’
‘Gunton,’ the DCI said wearily, ‘listen. Just tell us who told you to pick up the car and take it to the airfield. Tell us anything you know about why and how many times you’ve done it before.’
‘And?’
‘Just tell us.’
Andy didn’t believe Lee Carter had anything to do with the little boy. Money was his thing, not taking kids.
‘Come on, come on.’
‘OK … and this is all. And when I’ve told you, I wanna go and I don’t want no more questions about the missing kid because I swear to God I would never, never have –’
‘Just talk,’ Serrailler said.
He believed him, Andy Gunton could tell.
He leaned on the table and started. There wasn’t a lot to confess when it came to it. Meeting Lee Carter. Saying he’d do some driving for him. Getting the text messages. Picking up the cars, twice, and leaving them. That was it.
‘How do you get paid, Gunton?’ Coates again. ‘Cos you ain’t doing it for kisses.’
‘Cash. Through the post.’
‘How much?’
‘Hundred pounds,’ he said quickly.
‘And the rest.’
‘Hundred pounds.’
‘Who else is involved?’
‘I never saw anyone else.’
‘Just Carter.’
‘Yeah.’
The DCI stood up. ‘Interview terminated … 8.28 a.m.’ Coates switched off the tape.
‘You charging me?’
‘Taking and driving away. The duty sergeant will bail you. And don’t go anywhere. We might want to talk to you again.’
They left him at the duty desk, waiting.
He counted himself lucky.