Ray Dorridge put up a good show of merely being irritated at his time being wasted, but the way he fiddled with the polystyrene cup of water belied his nervousness.
‘He’s lawyered up, this time,’ Grimshaw observed before they entered the interview room. ‘Feels like a man with a guilty conscience.’
Warren chose to ignore the Americanism – Grimshaw was a big fan of US cop dramas. ‘Or he’s a sensible person who is concerned about being questioned for a second time, and a search warrant being executed on his property.’
This time, Dorridge was interviewed under caution, although he still hadn’t been arrested. He’d come willingly, and Warren didn’t want to start the custody clock ticking until he needed to.
‘In our last interview, you said that you only had a passing acquaintance with Stevie Cullen?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘Just drinking buddies?’ asked Grimshaw.
‘We both liked a pint down the Stag,’ agreed Dorridge.
‘But you were aware of his reputation with women?’ Grimshaw pressed.
Dorridge shrugged. ‘It’s hardly a secret.’
Warren leant back slightly in his chair. ‘I’ll be honest, you aren’t the first person who’s mentioned his, shall we say, “philandering nature”. Can you tell me a bit more about it? Who else might he have annoyed?’
Dorridge also leant back in his chair, visibly relaxing. ‘Form an orderly queue. As I said before, he’d target anything in a skirt.’
‘So he had numerous affairs?’ pressed Warren.
Dorridge made a slight rocking motion with his head. ‘Not necessarily affairs. I think it was more about taking the piss. Some of the women he hit on clearly weren’t his type; he was just winding up their husbands or boyfriends.’
‘How did they take it?’
‘It varied. Some blokes were all right with it. I reckon they knew he was just being a prick and it wouldn’t come to anything. Others … well I guess they probably felt a bit threatened. He was a good-looking bloke, and he usually had a wad of cash in his back pocket. I imagine a few were worried that it might go somewhere if they weren’t careful.’
‘Was there anyone in particular who got upset?’
Dorridge thought for a moment. ‘Harry Raynor was pretty annoyed with him one night. He and his missus, Teri, had had a row earlier that evening on the way to the Stag. He went into the back room to play pool and left Teri in the bar area. When he came back Teri and Stevie were drinking, and were sitting pretty close, if you get my drift. Harry called Stevie a wanker, grabbed Teri’s hand and took her home. Didn’t even finish his pint. I reckon it might have got a bit more messy if Stevie’s brother Frankie hadn’t been in there. Stevie shouted something like “Facebook me if you need something bigger” and waggled his little finger. I heard that they broke up a few days later, although everyone knew they’d been having problems for a while.’
‘Do you know if anything came of it?’ asked Grimshaw, writing down the names.
Dorridge shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Do you know of anyone that he definitely did have an affair with?’
Dorridge looked uncomfortable.
‘It would really help us, Ray,’ said Warren. ‘We just want to know what sort of man Stevie was. He’s beginning to sound like a real bully.’
Dorridge sighed. ‘Look there were rumours that he might have been seeing someone more seriously. I don’t know, because she stopped coming to the Stag. Her fiancé had a bit of a reputation for hitting women. I heard he may have even spent some time in jail for assaulting an ex.’
‘Can you give me some names?’
Dorridge paused before answering. ‘Anton. Rimington, I think. His missus was called Vicki. She was a bit young for him if you ask me. Stevie was probably more her age, if that makes any difference.’
‘And you think the relationship was more serious than just a bit of flirting down the pub?’
‘Yeah, that was the rumour. A couple of people reckon they saw him near their flat when Anton was away, visiting his family.’ He paused. ‘Somebody also reckoned she looked pregnant. Draw your own conclusions.’
Warren glanced at Grimshaw. Yet another person aware of Cullen’s affair. It was getting harder and harder to believe that Rimington was unaware of his fiancée’s infidelity. Perhaps that was why he put the pieces together so quickly when looking at the baby scans. Rimington’s lack of alibi was looking more and more problematic.
In the meantime, Ray Dorridge’s relationship to Cullen hadn’t been fully explored yet. With the farmer apparently at ease, Warren decided to wrong-foot him.
‘You’ve been really helpful, Ray, although from what you’ve told us, the list of people that Stevie Cullen angered is getting longer. We’re going to need another suspect board!’
Dorridge joined in with the chuckles from Warren and Grimshaw.
‘There are going to be a few relieved husbands and boyfriends now that he’s no longer making a nuisance of himself,’ said Grimshaw.
‘Yeah, there were probably a couple of blokes who have thought about killing him over the years,’ said Dorridge.
‘Were you one of those people, Ray?’ asked Warren.
‘Sorry?’
‘You told me last time we spoke how hard it was to find a woman, what with all the hours you work. I’ll bet you were really annoyed when Stevie turned up in Café Rouge last February and scuppered your date. Tell me, did you ever see that woman again, or did she decide that your little temper tantrum was a turn-off?’ asked Warren.
‘How did you …’
‘Bit of a kicker two days before Valentine’s day,’ said Grimshaw. ‘I’d have been pretty annoyed.’ He looked towards Warren. ‘According to the witnesses in the police report, she left shortly after Cullen.’ He turned his gaze back to Dorridge. ‘Say, you don’t suppose she caught up with Cullen, do you?’
Dorridge’s solicitor had clearly been unaware of his client’s caution; nevertheless he attempted to step in.
‘This seems to be rather flimsy, DCI Jones. Do you have any more substantial allegations?’
Warren and Grimshaw both ignored him.
‘What happened that night, Ray?’ asked Warren.
Dorridge scowled and folded his arms. ‘Not a lot, I’m sure it’s all in the report.’
‘I’d like to hear your side of the story, Ray, because it sounds to me as though you might also be on the list of men with a reason to want Stevie Cullen out of the picture,’ said Warren.
‘Oh, come on! That happened months ago. We settled it there and then. End of story.’
‘Settled it with a police caution for you and nothing for him,’ replied Warren. ‘Why didn’t you tell the arresting officers who you were fighting? Seems a bit unfair that you get the criminal record, whilst he gets off scot free.’
‘This is old ground,’ interjected the solicitor. This time all three men ignored him.
‘Fine. You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you.’ Dorridge glared across the table. ‘You’re right, it is bloody hard to find a good woman, so yes, I was really pissed off when that prick Cullen decided to mess things up.’ He took a sip of his water.
‘I met Carrie online about a month before the … incident. It wasn’t our first date; we’d gone for coffee the Saturday before. We’d got on really well and she agreed to come out for dinner on Friday night after work. Nothing too serious, just a bite to eat in Café Rouge and maybe a drink afterwards.’ He turned his glare towards Grimshaw. ‘And yes, I was thinking about asking her out again on Valentine’s day, although it was on a Sunday, so I thought I might offer to cook, rather than try and book a table somewhere.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well the restaurant was busy two days before Valentine’s, and we were on a little table squeezed into the front window. Everything was going great, then suddenly, Stevie’s standing next to me. He’d clearly been drinking, and he starts asking me to introduce him to my “lovely friend”. He obviously wasn’t going anywhere, and I didn’t want to be rude in front of Carrie, so I introduced him. Then he starts asking if we were “on a date”.’
Dorridge’s lip curled. ‘He was like a teenager. Carrie laughed, although I couldn’t tell if she was being polite or not. Anyway, I persuaded him to clear off and leave us alone. At which point he took her hand, kissed it and said “enchanté” in a really embarrassing French accent.’
Warren watched Dorridge closely; it was clear that even nine months later, the memories of that evening still angered the man.
‘Then what happened?’
‘I got up to use the toilet, and when I came back the bastard was sitting in my seat, pouring Carrie a glass of wine. He must have just moved around the corner to the bar and waited for me to leave. I don’t know what he was saying to her, but she was laughing.’
Dorridge stopped, looking down at his hands. His ears were flushed a dark red.
‘Then what?’
‘You know what happened.’
‘Tell us in your own words.’
‘I was so annoyed with him. I’d been paying a subscription to that damned matchmaking website for years, and I’d had three proper dates out of it. All of them lost interest when they realized what being a farmer really meant. Carrie was different. Her family used to be in farming. She wasn’t put off.’ Dorridge paused. ‘Then along comes fucking Stevie Cullen, and he thinks it’ll be funny to mess it up for me. I don’t think he was even that interested. To him it’s all just a game.’
‘What did you do?’
Dorridge cleared his throat, the redness of his ears spreading to his cheeks, the base of his throat turning a blotchy pink.
‘I told him to piss off. He got up and said that was no sort of language to use in front of a lady, then turned to Carrie and said, “I’ll see you again. Maybe we can finish that drink.”
‘So, I threw a punch at him.’
Dorridge closed his eyes, briefly. ‘I can’t believe I did it. It was like I was back at school again, and the bullies were stealing my pencil case and throwing my bag out of the window to get me into trouble. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but that big ape of a brother wasn’t with him, so I guess I thought I stood a chance.’ He snorted. ‘I haven’t thrown a punch since I was a kid. I missed him completely and ended up sending the table of the couple next to us flying. He didn’t even try to hit me; he just gave me a shove and sat me down on my arse. By the time I got back to my feet, the bar staff were running over and Stevie was legging out of the door laughing and blowing kisses. Carrie left about a minute later.’
Dorridge’s voice hardened. ‘In all my life, I’ve never been so humiliated. It cost me two hundred quid by the time I’d paid for everything, and I have a fucking police record. In answer to your next question, no I didn’t see Carrie again. I called her to say sorry, but she said that her ex had had “anger management issues” and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to continue the relationship.
‘So yeah, I fucking hated Stevie Cullen. But that was nine months ago, and I’m not going to suddenly kill him over a ruined date.’
Ray Dorridge’s solicitor suggested a short break; Warren and Grimshaw moved into the corridor to discuss what they’d learnt.
‘It might have been nine months ago, but he’s clearly still furious,’ said Grimshaw.
‘But is he furious enough to kill Cullen?’ asked Warren.
‘Maybe he hooked up with Anton Rimington?’ said Grimshaw. ‘He’s lied to us about how well he knew Cullen, I’ll bet he knows more about Rimington than he’s letting on.’
‘I can’t see it,’ said Martinez, who’d been watching the interview remotely. ‘I still can’t imagine him killing Cullen over a date.’
‘Well that might not be the only motive,’ said Warren. ‘Let’s go back in and see what else he has to say.’
‘When we last spoke, you denied having any sort of business relationship with Mr Cullen,’ said Warren.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Dorridge had regained his composure during the short break.
‘However, witnesses claimed that you and Mr Cullen were seen arguing in the White Stag pub over the payment for services.’
‘And I said they must be mistaken.’ Dorridge’s tone was defiant.
Warren opened the folder in front of him and removed a sheet of paper. ‘According to Middlesbury council, you reported illegal fly-tipping on your land on three separate occasions last year.’
Dorridge shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Yeah, dirty bastards. They’ll dump their shit anywhere.’
‘We’ve spoken to a witness who confirms Mr Cullen ran a business that involved collecting rubbish from households and businesses for a fee, and then dumping the rubbish illegally on land, such as farmland, where the council would ultimately pick it up for free.’
‘I wouldn’t know anything about that.’
Warren removed a second sheet of paper. ‘This is a copy of your phone logs.’ He pointed to three highlighted entries. ‘You received calls from this mobile number two or three days before each reported incident of fly-tipping.’
‘So?’ Dorridge’s tone was defiant.
‘The timing seems rather coincidental. Who does the number belong to, Mr Dorridge?’
Dorridge’s eyes darted around for a few seconds, before he suddenly relaxed. ‘It’s one of my neighbours. He spotted the rubbish on my land and kindly called me to let me know about it.’
‘Who is this neighbour?’
Dorridge shrugged. ‘I couldn’t tell you.’
‘Do a lot of strangers have your mobile number?’
‘You don’t have to answer that, Mr Dorridge,’ interjected the solicitor. ‘In fact I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning.’
Warren ignored him.
‘We did a search online for this mobile phone number, and it turns out that it’s the contact number for a “Middlesbury Refuse Disposal Service”. One phone call and they’ll take any unwanted rubbish away and dispose of it properly. They promise to beat any quote.’
‘And?’ It was clear Dorridge wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
‘We have been unable to find any licensed disposal services with that name or linked to that phone number. Tell me, Mr Dorridge, do you know the owner of this telephone number?’
Dorridge swallowed. ‘No.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Positive.’
‘Well that’s strange, because not only did you receive calls from this very helpful – but unknown – neighbour, you also made calls to them on a regular basis.’
Dorridge had turned a pasty white colour. He licked his lips.
‘Does this number belong to Stevie Cullen?’
Dorridge looked over at his solicitor, who gave a tiny shake of the head.
‘No comment.’
Warren fought to repress a smile of triumph; Dorridge had all but confirmed that the number belonged to Cullen. The question was, did the relationship – which he had been denying – extend beyond the fly-tipping scam?
‘Why were you calling this number?’
‘No comment.’
‘I’ll ask you again, Mr Dorridge. Did you have a business relationship with Mr Cullen?’
‘No comment.’
Warren gave a big sigh. ‘Look, Mr Dorridge, we have already established that you lied about how well you knew Mr Cullen the last time you were interviewed. You need to help me here. I’ll be honest, I’m not that fussed about a bit of illegal dumping. All I want to do is work out what happened to Mr Cullen.’
‘No comment.’
‘Are you sure about that, Mr Dorridge?’ asked Warren.
‘What are you hiding, Ray?’ asked Grimshaw.
‘No comment.’
‘I would remind you that my client is here voluntarily,’ interrupted the solicitor. ‘He has already made it clear that he doesn’t wish to discuss his dealings with Mr Cullen. He is not under arrest, and so you shouldn’t be drawing any inferences from that decision. Mr Dorridge has been very cooperative, not least in allowing you to search his property for evidence linking him to Mr Cullen’s death.’
‘The search has been authorized by a warrant,’ Warren reminded the man.
‘Which I would question, on the basis of what we have heard so far. In fact, I’d go as far as to suggest that this is a fishing expedition, and request that you cease the search.’
Dorridge looked over at his solicitor and licked his lips. ‘I want to take a break.’