As the courthouse loomed ahead, Jayne said, ‘How are we playing this?’
‘One last crack at getting Peter to talk. It’s today or never.’
‘And me?’
‘Stay with me. You’re my investigator, and I need your input.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired, and smelling like an old wine barrel.’
As they got closer to the courthouse, Murdoch was outside, puffing on a cigarette, as always.
‘Any updates on Pat?’ Dan asked, as they got closer.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. He’s not on any train CCTV boarding at Greencroft, and the car park isn’t covered by cameras.’ She leaned in closer. ‘And Sean Martin had nothing to do with it. He’s got an alibi. He was at a book signing all evening, and his car was seen on CCTV heading out of Highford and towards home minutes after he left the venue.’
‘I’m not finished with him. His boat is the key.’
‘His boat? Why?’
‘On the footage from when Lizzie was murdered, a boat appears in the distance and then the light goes off.’
‘How do you know it was Sean’s?’
‘I don’t, yet, but if there’s anywhere to search after today, start with his boat.’
He headed into the court building. As he waited at the security barrier, he saw Bill ahead. Once he was through, Bill marched over towards them.
‘Any new information, Mr Grant?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, just as it was, but stick with the case, Bill. You’ve been helpful. I just wish I could do more for you.’
‘That’s all right. At least you listened.’ As Dan carried on past him, Bill shouted out, ‘Good luck.’
Dan didn’t respond. Lizzie’s family and friends were ahead. He didn’t want it to seem like a game.
Dan pushed the door that took him down the stairs and towards the court cells, Jayne following.
‘Will they let me in?’ she said.
‘You’re with me. It’ll be fine.’
The stairs to the cells echoed as they walked down, Dan’s stomach rolling, unsure whether it was tension or the effects of the night before. He was shown into the small booth, the guards nonplussed by Jayne’s presence. She sat next to Dan, so squeezed in that their knees touched. Peter’s arrival was heralded by the usual jangle of keys.
When he sat down, he looked to Jayne and then back to Dan, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘I heard about your boss. Has he turned up yet?’
Dan clenched his jaw. Had Pat’s disappearance become just common gossip already?
‘Let’s focus on your case, shall we? I’ve been looking into you, Peter. Do you want to know what I’ve discovered?’
Peter sat back, his eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Any guesses?’
He shook his head but stayed silent.
‘You should have. I’ve already asked you about why you told Pat Molloy you were responsible for Rosie Smith’s murder. You freaked out. We carried on digging though.’
‘We?’
Jayne leaned in to the glass. ‘Me too, Peter.’
Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Pat Molloy made this note when Sean Martin was waiting for his murder trial.’ He unfolded it. ‘Can you guess what it says?’
‘Why don’t you just tell me?’ His voice was quieter.
Dan read it out. ‘That’s Pat’s note from when you went to see him. You wouldn’t talk to me about why you confessed to Rosie’s murder. Have you had a rethink?’
‘I didn’t confess. I said I was responsible. That’s different.’
‘How is it?’
Peter shook his head. ‘I’m not talking about it.’
‘You are, Peter, because today’s the day. You can’t keep up the silent act. Let me ask you one thing: did you kill Rosie Smith?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know who did?’
Peter didn’t answer. He stared at Jayne and Dan, then began to shake his head. ‘No, no, no, no.’
‘I kept on digging, Peter, so you can imagine how surprised I was to find out that you were friends with Sean.’
Peter’s eyelids flickered.
‘Jayne was asking around your old neighbourhood. Tell him what you found out?’
‘Almost in-laws,’ she said.
Peter sat back and folded his arms. He glared at her, his lips pursed, until he said, ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
Jayne met his gaze but lowered her voice and gave a sympathetic smile. ‘We just want to help you, but you’ve got to help us too.’
‘I’m not discussing it.’
‘Why not? We’ve found out a lot already. I’ve spoken to Emily.’
His eyes widened and then filled with tears. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s fine, and she wants what’s best for you. She still cares.’
A pause, and then, ‘Does she?’
‘And do you remember Claire Watkins? I spoke to one of her friends too.’
His hand shot to his mouth. He blinked a few times and tears ran down his cheeks.
‘What is it, Peter?’
He didn’t respond. Dan and Jayne let the silence grow. His hand stayed over his mouth as his silent tears turned into steady sobs.
‘Poor Claire,’ he said, eventually.
Dan and Jayne exchanged glances.
Dan was about to speak but Jayne held up her finger to silence him. ‘Tell us, Peter. Now’s the time.’
There was a rattle of keys behind him. The security guard said, ‘The judge is waiting for you, Mr Grant.’
Dan waved him away. ‘Not yet.’
‘What do I tell him?’
‘You tell him not yet.’ His entire focus was on Peter.
Peter dropped his hands and wiped his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and his whole body sagged. ‘It started with Sean.’
‘What did?’ Jayne said.
Peter stared at his hands for a few seconds before answering. ‘It was just daft stuff. He’s older than me, and I’m… I’m quiet. Sean was different. He seemed clever, worldly.’
‘How?’
‘He was talented. He could draw, and would copy out these really great comic covers, huge canvases, and frame them. And he was knowledgeable.’ Peter seemed more animated. ‘About politics. About the world. That’s how we’d spend our weekends, drinking and talking politics. He’d be the one talking, anyhow. I’d listen and learn. You know how it is when you meet someone who is so clever, and you just can’t help being dragged along by it all. People round here thought he was too far up himself, that he thought he was better than everyone else.’
‘Is that why you tried to confess? To help him out?’
Peter snorted a laugh. ‘You can never understand.’
Jayne gestured towards Dan. ‘Help us.’
Peter stayed silent, so Dan said, ‘Remember the questions I asked yesterday, about the women who have gone missing? That’s a line of defence we might have, that there’s a serial killer stalking the canals, but if the jury believe me there’s a risk that they’ll think that person is you.’ Dan leaned forward, drawing Peter in. ‘I don’t think you’ve got it in you, but is that how you want to go down, as someone who murdered lots of people? A sadistic butcher?’
‘That isn’t me.’ Peter’s eyes were wide.
‘Tell me the story then.’
Peter looked down at the desk. His fingers tapped on the surface, and at first Dan thought Peter was getting angry, and braced himself for an explosion of rage or another sudden retreat, but then he noticed more tears.
‘Peter?’
He gulped and wiped his eyes. ‘People can’t think I’m a monster. I’m no monster. Do you believe that?’
‘How can I believe you when you hold so much back? Now, it’s time for the truth.’
Peter nodded to himself for a few seconds and then it was as if the air was sucked out of the room when he said, ‘I killed Lizzie, and I can’t stand it, but you’ve got to know the full story.’