Gary McCann smiled smugly as he leaned back on the two rear legs of the chair in the interview room, his hands behind his head.
‘Worried about something, McCann?’ Culverhouse asked.
‘Why would I have anything to worry about, Inspector?’
‘In my experience, the cool, calm characters become just a little bit too cool and calm when they're as guilty as sin.’
‘And in my experience, police officers start to make up all sorts of ludicrous psychological theories when they get desperate at having nothing else in their arsenal,’ McCann replied, smirking at Culverhouse.
‘Oh, my arsenal is positively overflowing, Mr McCann. Tell me, do you know a girl called Danielle Levy?’
‘Sorry, what has this got to do with Bob Arthurs?’ McCann said, dismissively.
‘I’m not sure myself. Not just yet, anyway. What I do know, though, is that Danielle Levy went missing from her house on Friday lunchtime and hasn't been seen since. I also know that in the process of scouring your house for material in connection with the murder of Bob Arthurs, we found a number of hairs belonging to Danielle. Can you explain how they got there?’
Gary McCann slowly lowered the front of his chair, allowing the legs to come to a rest on the floor with a clop as he brought his hands down in front of him, crossing them on the table. ‘Absolutely not, Inspector. I've never heard of her.’
‘I would like to remind you that this interview is being recorded, Mr McCann, and that we have evidence which shows that Danielle Levy has been in both your house and car recently. Do you want to reconsider your answer at all?’
‘That's impossible,’ McCann replied, clearly getting more agitated by the second. ‘No-one else uses my car and we don't have other people around at the house. Not until we started holding your police parties for you in the past few days, anyway. If you’ve found anything, it’s a fit-up. You’ve been trying to stitch things on me for years.’
‘You'll have to come up with something better than that, McCann. The forensic evidence doesn't lie. Danielle Levy has been in your house and she has been in your car. And I want to know why.’
‘I’m telling you. I ain't never heard of her, all right?’
‘Have you had any parties at your house recently, Mr McCann?’ Wendy said, trying to nudge the conversation in some sort of forward direction.
‘No, I don't tend to go in for that. We're a very private household, know what I mean?’
‘Hardly surprising,’ Culverhouse added, drily.
‘I mean, yeah, we have friends around occasionally but only the odd dinner party and that. And never with no-one called Danielle Levy, that's for sure.’
‘And do you ever take anyone else in your car?’ Wendy asked.
‘Only my current wife, and she's tucked up safe and sound at home and definitely not lying dead anywhere.’
‘Your first one is, though, isn't she?’ Culverhouse replied.
‘Listen, I can't speak for your forensics blokes, but I know damn well who's been in my house and I know damn well who hasn't. Now, unless I'm being fitted up, I'm afraid I can't help you, Inspector.’