Cal Napier was a wiry, diminutive character. Quite fidgety, but with a lot of attitude and swagger. Cross wondered whether this was as a result of his lack of stature. Mackenzie had discovered a number of social media posts where he described himself as a ‘gangsta’. He wore designer clothing that seemed way too big for him. His pit bull had a large gold collar and shoulder brace on him. It made the dog look dangerous but animal control hadn’t reported any problems with it. Napier had cling film wrapped around his wrist, protecting a newly inked tattoo.
‘Have you injured your wrist?’ Cross asked.
‘No, you dick,’ came the terse reply.
‘Are you sure? We could call a doctor for you if you wish.’
‘It’s a tattoo, mate,’ he said, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up. ‘Half done, thanks to you lot.’
‘Oh,’ said Cross surprised and leaning forward to have a closer look. ‘What’s it a tattoo of?’
‘None of your business, mate.’
But Cross had noticed something else on the man’s upper arm. There were a couple of faint yellow lines, like the last vestiges of bruising.
‘Interesting. I’ve never seen a tattoo that’s a work in progress. So they actually trace a pattern first. It reminds me of a Banda machine at school. Before photocopiers. Do you remember that, DI Warner?’ Cross asked.
‘I do not,’ he replied.
‘They looked just like that and in that kind of purple ink as well. My father used to have about twelve of them. But how interesting. So the trace gives you an idea of what it’ll look like until the permanent inking is done. I do have a question. Would you mind if I asked it, Cal, or would you prefer Mr Napier?’
‘I don’t give a toss.’
‘About the question or your name?’
‘Look, can you just tell me why I’m here and then could we get on with it?’
‘Do you ever consider what your tattoos will look like when you’re older? Say, in your sixties or seventies?’ Cross continued.
‘People like me don’t make old bones, bruv.’
‘Is that right? Now you mention it, though, can you imagine what the old generation is going to look like if they go into care homes when they’re older? There’ll be saggy tattoos all over the place.’
No one said anything.
Cross checked his notes to make sure what he was about to say was accurate.
‘You’ve been arrested on suspicion of murder and false imprisonment,’ he said, looking up as if he expected Napier to confirm this.
‘Are you asking me or telling me, mate? Is he for real?’
He turned to Warner.
‘Does he know what he’s doing, mate? Feels a bit like amateur time, if you ask me.’
Warner said nothing, sorely tempted as he was to agree.
‘Do you know the village of Crockerne?’ Cross asked.
‘Never heard of it,’ he replied. His solicitor leant over and whispered something in his ear.
‘It’s a small village on the River Avon. Almost under the Avonmouth M5 bridge,’ Cross told him. There was no response. Cross looked at his script of questions, decided to move on and so turned a few pages over. He found what he was looking for and looked up.
‘Did you go to Crockerne speculatively, in the hope that you might find someone elderly and vulnerable like Alistair Moreton, or did you just chance upon him?’ he asked.
‘No comment.’
‘Maybe someone informed you of his whereabouts?’ Cross suggested.
‘No comment.’
‘Do you know Andrew Tite?’
‘No comment.’
‘What was the date you moved yourself and Filip into Moreton’s house?’
‘No comment.’
‘Are these your and Filip’s choice of drink, Mr Napier?’
He showed him the photographs of the strong lager bottles and high energy drinks. He noticed a flicker of something on Napier’s face. Either just recognition or sudden awareness that Cross was on his way to proving his being in the house.
‘No comment.’
‘Have you ever been to Crockerne?’
‘No comment.’
‘Look, we have two witnesses who say they saw you in the local pub with the victim,’ Warner suddenly said, leaning forward in his seat. He was trying to bring the interview to an abrupt end as he thought it a pointless exercise. ‘You’re on CCTV in the local village shop. Your car has been seen by other witnesses parked at Moreton’s house, sometimes overnight. Now cut the crap and tell us what you were doing there.’
‘I’d like to speak with my client,’ the solicitor said.
Warner got up and left. Cross was a little stunned and looked at his folder in front of him. His carefully planned and constructed interview narrative had just had a Warner-sized truck driven straight through it.
‘Why did you do that?’ Cross asked calmly in the corridor outside where Warner appeared to be waiting for him.
‘To save time.’
‘Whose time?’ Cross asked.
‘Mine.’
‘Well, if you’re concerned about saving time perhaps it would be better all round if you went back to your office and left me to waste my time on my own,’ Cross replied, before walking off.
Ottey and Carson had been watching the interview on a monitor. She looked at him as if to ask what he was going to do about the situation. It was a clear case of one officer sabotaging another’s interview strategy, and in this case when pursuing a line of enquiry he had no interest in. But Carson left the room without saying anything.
When Warner went back into the interview room with Napier and his solicitor, Cross wasn’t there. Warner waited for a few minutes then indicated that the lawyer should start.
‘My client acknowledges that he did know the victim. He was a friend and he’d been staying with him for a few weeks while he looked for new accommodation,’ he said.
‘Nothing nearer Gloucester?’ Warner scoffed in disbelief.
‘No comment.’
Warner actually had no plan of action. He did after all think this was a waste of everyone’s time. He looked at his watch and realised that in all probability Cross wasn’t going to make an appearance.
‘Would you excuse me?’ he said, getting up. ‘DI Robert Warner leaving the room.’
He went into the open area and saw Mackenzie.
‘Where’s DS Cross?’ he asked.
‘No idea,’ she lied.
‘Bullshit. Where’s Ottey?’
‘No idea.’
They were in fact in the next-door interview room to Napier, with his associate Filip Gallinis. Cross had had a lightbulb moment regarding his frustration at Warner’s interference in his interview earlier. He had realised he had two suspects in custody and Warner couldn’t be in two places at once. So he didn’t go back to interview Napier, he decided to interview Gallinis in another room. He and Ottey were in the process of going through the same initial questions he’d put to Napier. The door opened. It was Warner.
‘DS Ottey, could I speak to you for a moment outside.’
She got up and left the room.
‘What exactly is going on in there?’ Warner asked.
‘I would’ve thought that was fairly obvious. We’re interviewing Filip Gallinis.’
‘Don’t piss me about. Cross and I were in the middle of interviewing Napier.’
‘He must’ve thought this was a more efficient use of our resources, I guess,’ she replied.
‘That’ll be all,’ he said, dismissing her at the same time as grabbing the handle to the interview room in a pre-emptive strike, preventing her from going back into the room.
‘DI Robert Warner has entered the room,’ the detective announced as he came into the room and sat with a self-satisfied smile.
Cross said nothing for a moment, then got up saying, ‘DS Cross leaving the room.’ He went, leaving Warner dumbstruck. He then walked past Ottey in the corridor straight into the Napier interview room. Warner appeared.
‘Where did he go?’ he asked Ottey. She indicated the interview room. He disappeared into it. Moments later Cross appeared and went back into the other room. Warner appeared and followed him next door. Seconds later Cross reappeared and went back into the adjacent room. It was like something out of a Feydeau farce. Warner appeared looking quite angry now. He reached for the other door.
‘I’d think very carefully about doing that if I were you, sir,’ she said.
‘Oh yeah? And why’s that?’
‘Because DS Cross is capable of doing this again and again for the rest of the day and well into the night,’ she said.
‘Well so am I,’ he replied.
‘The difference between you though, is that he genuinely won’t be concerned about how ridiculous it makes him appear. The question is, will you?’
Warner thought about this for a moment then stormed off down the corridor.