‘Do you understand why you’ve been arrested?’ Ruby said, opening a Manila folder and placing it on the coffee-ringed table. It was more than just a sturdy piece of furniture, it was a barrier which provided time to react, should her suspect take exception to her line of questioning.
‘No comment,’ Danny replied, rocking back in his chair.
‘I refer to exhibit AB01, which is a printout of a photo of the victim, Lisa Caldwell.’
She slid the picture across the table in the interview room. Danny’s gaze fell on the image of the young girl, the face of someone who had everything to live for.
‘Do you know this woman?’
‘No comment.’ His eyes still rested on the picture but he had withdrawn into himself, the upward curl of his lip suggesting he was reliving their last moments together.
Ruby snatched back the photo, unwilling to afford him the memory. All she could see in his face was arrogance and stupidity but it was something she was willing to take advantage of if she could prise some words from his sneering mouth.
‘I refer to exhibit AB02. This is CCTV footage of the path before the cut through to Shoreditch Park at 10 p.m. that night.’ Ruby turned the laptop to face him. ‘I’ve provided a map with my disclosure, if you’d like to take another look at the area.’
His solicitor glanced up from his paperwork, pushing his glasses back up his face. He slipped his copy of the map Ruby had provided onto the desk.
Danny Smedley barely acknowledged it.
The CCTV footage displayed the black and white image of a young woman. Wearing a denim skirt and white T-shirt, she held onto a drawstring carrier bag. Her long blonde hair fell all the way down her back, and an image of the same girl flashed in Ruby’s memory; the same blonde hair splayed around her on the frosted grass. She inhaled a soft breath, drawing strength from the intensity of her emotions.
She pointed to the screen. ‘Here’s footage of Lisa leaving the leisure centre. I’m just going to forward it a few minutes. . .’ She clicked the image as a male figure came into view. It was as good an image as that camera could afford, given it was under cover of street lights, but not good enough to clearly identify him.
‘This male was seen acting suspiciously, hanging around the park. It’s my opinion that he was following Lisa. What can you tell me about that?’
Danny shrugged. He was so full of cockiness it warmed Ruby’s heart but she would not allow him to know that. Her facial expression showed mild annoyance. It was a game she played only with those foolish enough to swallow it.
‘For the benefit of the recording, Danny has shrugged.’ Ruby needed to clarify every response in case the interview was played in court later. She dared not look at Ash, who was taking notes. The next few moments were crucial, and she could not break concentration.
‘Do you know this person?’ Ruby pointed at the still of the male. Head bowed, his hoodie was covering most of his features, although the shading on his jawbone suggested a thick growth of stubble akin to the facial hair Danny was sporting in the interview today.
‘No comment,’ Danny said, his tone flat.
‘Is this you?’ Ruby fired back.
‘No comment.’
Ruby returned her attention to the screen. ‘Now, why do you think someone would be following Lisa into the park like that? A young girl minding her own business.’
Danny sneered. ‘She hardly minded her own business dressed like that.’
Ruby could have torn a strip off him, but, instead, she looked at him blankly. ‘Like what? I don’t understand.’
‘These girls with their short skirts and flimsy tops. . .’
‘It was pretty cold that night. . .’ Ruby said, her voice trailing away.
‘Too right. What do they expect, walking around with their tits on show? And then it’s all over the newspapers, innocent this, and innocent that… Innocent, my arse!’
Ruby nodded, waiting for him to fill the silence. She could not reel him in anymore. The last thing she wanted was the court to think that she had any sympathy for this scumbag. ‘So what happened? When you bumped into her, I mean.’
The words were nonchalant but the solicitor raised his gaze from his paperwork, his voice droll. ‘My client has been advised to answer no comment.’
‘I’d rather hear that from him,’ Ruby said, annoyed at the break in momentum.
Danny folded his arms, confusion flashing across his face. It was as if he had just realised he was in a police interview room and not his local boozer. ‘No comment.’ He exhaled the words in sullen weariness.
But Ruby refused to allow his non-committal response to get in her way. ‘What did you mean when you said Lisa had her breasts on display?’ The fact the young girl had changed quickly from her swimsuit and not bothered to put her bra back on was not public knowledge. Ruby only knew it because a friend of Lisa’s had mentioned her complaining about the underwire as she stuffed it into her bag in the changing room that night. Danny’s comments gave scope for another inference to be drawn: a tiny one, but an inference just the same.
‘I. . . I meant she probably dressed the same as most young women these days,’ Danny said, forgetting his earlier advice of keeping shtum.
Ruby stared without blinking until he shifted under the weight of her gaze. ‘So you’re telling me this isn’t you?’ she clarified, waiting for his solicitor to complain that she was labouring the point.
He opened his hands wide in a gesture of innocence. ‘It ain’t me. I was at the hostel, in bed. I got in at around seven and stayed there until the next day. I left around twelve.’
‘Yet nobody’s seen you in all that time.’
Danny’s shoulders jerked upwards in another shrug. ‘I keep to meself. I watched some documentary on the telly from eight to nine, and then I fell asleep.’
It would not have been difficult for him to find out what was on TV, and he’d had time to get his story straight, although Ruby was grateful nobody had been stupid enough to provide him with an alibi. She allowed him to give a potted account of his movements before allowing Ash to follow up with extra questions, referring to his notes.
‘You said you were in your room at the hostel from 7 p.m. until twelve the next morning. Is that correct?’
‘That’s what I told ya.’ Danny nodded, tucking his hands under his sweat-stained armpits as he folded his arms across his chest.
‘So how did your fingerprint get on what has been identified as Lisa Caldwell’s jewellery?’ Ash produced the exhibit, referencing it for the purpose of the recording.
‘No idea,’ Danny said with a shrug.
‘Did you attend Buster Turner’s Jewellery Emporium on the night of the murder?’
‘No.’
‘Did you try to pawn jewellery that night?’
‘I told ya, I was in my room.’
Good, Ruby thought, paying close attention as Danny dug himself into a bigger hole. Ash finished up his questions before passing the baton back to Ruby. They had pre-arranged their interview questions and worked in harmony with one mutual goal. Ash had prepped their suspect and allowed him to lie. Now it was time for Ruby to move in for the kill. She cleared her throat as she inhaled the stench of fresh sweat rising from Danny’s direction.
‘You refused to allow police to take intimate samples when you entered custody. Can you tell me why?’ They were an hour into the interview, and she itched to escape for a cigarette.
‘I don’t want no filthy copper touching my knob.’
Ruby almost laughed at the irony, but kept her amusement in check. ‘It was the force medical examiner but you would have known that. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this situation, is it, Danny?’
He snorted in response, his face devoid of remorse.
Bad character was something Ruby would ask Ash to draw upon at the end of the interview; he’d read through Danny’s past police history for the benefit of the recording. ‘Thankfully, we don’t need permission for other methods of analysis. You’ve got quite a distinctive walk, haven’t you?’
Ruby was referring to his bow legs and the John Wayne type saunter that accompanied it.
‘I’ve ’ad it since I was a kid, nothing I can do about it.’
‘And it’s relatively rare, isn’t it? It usually stems from having rickets as a child.’ She was all too aware of his deprived childhood. ‘I requested a gait analysis when you came into custody. It’s where experts analyse your walk against other footage and find a match. Much like this walk here,’ she said, pressing ‘play’ on the laptop.
Danny paled as it displayed an image of his signature loping gait.
‘As I said, being bow-legged is an unusual condition these days. I’m confident we’ll come up with a match between your entrance into custody and the footage here. So, I’ll ask you again. Is this you on the CCTV?’
Danny folded his arms, shrinking back from the screen. ‘No comment.’
The duty solicitor peered over his glasses at the footage before sliding a sideways glance at him.
Ruby continued. ‘I know we can’t see your face here, but it’s quite clear on CCTV when you ventured to Buster Turner’s Jewellery Emporium on Bethnal Green Road to sell Lisa Caldwell’s jewellery. The pawnbroker provided us with a statement, by the way. It contains an excellent description, by all accounts, matching the clothing seen on our CCTV.’ Ruby pointed to the laptop with the tip of her pen. ‘Black sweatshirt, baseball cap, torn jeans and boots. Oh, and the black rucksack on your back. The same black rucksack you had when you left prison. We’ve also obtained a further statement from an independent witness stating that a man fitting your description was hanging around that night.’
The witness had been the manager of the leisure centre. Ruby wished he had voiced his concerns at the time, in the form of a phone call to the police, instead of a statement the next day. But her colleagues were stretched thin, and it was doubtful they could have spared a chance to conduct a drive by in time anyway.
Ruby’s heart lit like a furnace as she watched the arrogance drop from her suspect’s face.
‘I want to talk to my solicitor – in private,’ Danny said, his hands dropping to the sides of his seat.
Ruby bit back her grin. She had him by the balls and was clenching them tighter by the second.