First, Gray went to his desk, took off his jacket, and hung it over the back of his chair. He sat down and pulled his keyboard over. He wanted to carry out some research into Quigley before they met. Five minutes, and he had what he wanted. Gray called Morgan and asked him to bring Quigley through from his cell.
When Gray entered the interview room, Quigley was staring at the table. He wouldn’t meet Gray’s eye. His body was folded in on itself, shoulders hunched. The impact of the folder onto the melamine surface made Quigley jerk. He wasn’t looking in the slightest like someone who wanted to be here.
Gray dragged out a chair, made the legs scrape. He sat down, hands in trouser pockets, open body language, in contrast to Quigley’s. He paused. Gray had all the time in the world whereas the pressure would be building on Quigley.
“What’s going on, Ray?”
Quigley didn’t acknowledge the question, kept his eyes downcast. Gray didn’t mind, he turned his attention to the file he’d brought in, flipped it open, and read. “Says here you’ve been charged with dealing Class A drugs. Pretty stupid as you’ve prior for possession, carrying cannabis.”
“That was for personal use.”
“Which is why you only got community service. Seems like you’ve moved up a league, though. Dealing now?” He fixed Quigley with a knowing look. “And it’s your second offence. Up to fourteen years if you get a judge with something to prove. We’ve been cracking down recently.” Gray closed the file. “Why did you ask for me?”
“I want to come to an arrangement. I’ve got information.”
Gray let the scepticism show in his face and voice. “Yeah, right.”
“I do!”
“I’m not in the drug squad.” Gray rose from his seat. “I’ll get one of my colleagues; they can manage you better than I can.”
“It’s about Regan.”
Gray paused, sat back down again. “Go on.” He was intrigued but suspected it would turn out to be nothing; that Quigley was desperate and would say anything to keep him here. “I’m listening.”
Quigley shook his head. “Not until you promise I won’t be done for dealing. No recordings, no solicitors. This is between me and you. Cos if this gets out I won’t be walking straight again. Ever.”
Gray sat back, thought about the proposition and about Quigley. In the silence, Quigley began to fidget. He blinked repeatedly and he appeared to be talking to himself, his mouth moving but no words to be heard. Panicking more about doing a stretch than whoever would take him out, Gray assumed.
“I want to hear what you’ve got before I decide,” said Gray.
“I’m not happy about that.”
“That’s what’s on offer, Ray.”
It was Quigley’s turn to sit back and consider. He was talking to himself again, his leg jigging up and down rapidly. Whatever was inside was bottled up firmly. He was steeling himself. Getting ready for the battle ahead. The battle with his conscience.
“Okay, I’ll talk,” said Quigley eventually.
“I’m listening.”
“Regan wasn’t all he seemed.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Nobody ever is, and his father said so openly at his funeral.”
“Not like this, though. I knew him pretty well. He was a right piece of work. We had to make sure he got looked after, had what he wanted, when he wanted it.”
“He’s the boss’s son, you said so yourself, I remember.”
“Sure, but there are limits, you know?”
“Such as?”
“He had to get served the moment he reached the bar.”
“Annoying, yes, though what does that matter? You said it was just a job.”
“Do you know how much shit I take for letting someone queue jump?”
“You’re not giving me anything here that’s of use, Ray.”
“He used the club to trawl for women.”
“And other men don’t?”
“We had a couple of incidents.” Quigley trailed off.
“Like what?”
Quigley stayed mute. Seemingly this was his Rubicon. Cross and there was no going back. Gray repeated his question.
“Trying it on with girls who were too drunk to say no. It got hushed up each time.”
“By who?” When Quigley didn’t answer, once more Gray asked, “By his father?”
“Regan’s mistakes had a habit of going away.”
“How?”
“The girls got paid off.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
Quigley shifted in his seat. “Not for sure, no. It was just something Regan said, about being untouchable.”
“Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?”
Quigley snorted out a laugh. “Unlikely.”
Gray made a mental note to look into this a little more. Maybe someone had been into the station and made a complaint. A long shot, but you never knew. He changed tack. “What happened the night Regan disappeared?”
“He was in the club, as usual. Coming to the bar a lot. Of course, as the manager I had to serve him. He liked that, showing who was really the boss. There were some who bent to him, thinking that one day Regan would inherit, and he’d do them favours. No chance. The man was a snake.”
“I think we’ve established you didn’t like Regan. I need something more specific.”
“He was with a woman.”
“What did she look like?”
“Tall. Blue hair.”
“Anything else?”
“That was all I saw. She was by the dance floor. The lights were bright, and I was busy. Not much chance to kick back and take in the sights. It’s all booze, booze, booze.”
“What was Regan on?”
“His special beer. She had wine.”
“That’s it?”
Quigley shook his head. Reluctance crept in once again.
“This is all supposition so far,” said Gray. “There’s no evidence.”
“He bought other stuff.”
“What?”
“Drugs.”
“Which?”
Quigley wouldn’t answer. Gray repeated his question.
“Ketamine.”
Gray considered this. “Serious stuff.” Three incidences of the drug now, all seemingly related to Regan.
“I passed it over with the second round of drinks.”
“What’s the purpose of ketamine?”
“It’s a relaxant.”
“It makes whoever takes it compliant?”
Quigley shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Was it for his own use?”
Quigley laughed. “Regan didn’t do drugs.”
“Never?”
“No, he said drugs were for idiots.”
Gray thought about the ketamine in Regan’s blood sample.
“So he only gave drugs to other people?” said Gray.
Quigley nodded. “That’s right.”
“Sounds very much to me that you were aiding and abetting another one of Regan’s ‘incidents’.”
“I had nothing to do with it! I just sold him gear. It was up to him what happened next. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Had Regan bought drugs from you before?”
“Once or twice. If there was someone he was keen on, but the woman wasn’t quite so interested then he’d buy.”
“What then, once he had the drugs?”
Quigley shrugged. “He didn’t come back to the bar. I assumed he’d left with her like before. To use the gear, I’d have bet.”
“What did you think when he wound up dead?”
“It was a complete surprise. I never thought he’d go that way.”
“Did you care?”
“About Regan?” Quigley laughed. “He was only interested in himself so why would I be bothered about him?”
“That’s cold, Ray.”
Another shrug. “He’s dead.”
“Who did you buy the ketamine from?”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter now. He’s dead too. My supplier was Larry Lost.”
“Anything else you’d like to add? Now’s the time.”
Quigley shook his head. Gray stood. So did Quigley.
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Gray.
“I’m leaving.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You said we had an agreement.”
“They were your words, not mine. Separately, you admitted to an additional charge of dealing in Seagram’s, and you hindered a murder investigation by not coming forward with this latest information, which is obstruction.”
“You bastard!” Quigley stepped forward. His muscles bulged as he clenched his fists. If he swung, Gray would be in trouble. Gray kept the table between them and his hand on a chair in case he had to use it.
“You want to add assaulting an officer to the charges?” asked Gray, his tone a lot calmer than he felt.
Quigley seethed. He was breathing deeply, like a bull about to charge. Then he flopped back down into his seat. “You promised,” he said.
“I didn’t promise anything.” Gray opened the door, said as he was leaving, “No recording, no evidence. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”