The buzzer woke me. It was three in the afternoon. My feet were on my desk. My mouth was sour with the whisky. I would have slept through it, but the buzzer buzzing was sufficiently unusual to pique my interest. I yawned and popped a Smartie. I pressed my end of it and said, ‘Lambert and Butler, Attorneys at Law.’
‘Starkey? It’s DS Hood, can we come up?’
That pesky officer saw straight through me.
‘Are you making house calls now?’ I asked.
He didn’t respond. I pushed the buzzer and tidied my desk while they mounted the stairs. This consisted of removing sweetie papers and sweeping crumbs. The only reason I was working in a paper-free environment was that I had no cases from which to generate paper. I had a notebook in my desk drawer, so I was prepared for any eventuality, though with cops coming up to see me, I’d have to be careful in case they misinterpreted the swastikas.
Gary Hood came in first. Behind him there was another detective in plain clothes. I did not recognise him.
‘Where’s Maxi?’ I asked. ‘I thought you two travelled in pairs.’
‘Maxi’s back on the desk,’ said Hood, ‘at least until Friday. Then he’s gone. This is Detective Inspector Springer.’
I shook his hand.
‘Like the dog,’ I said.
He had a needlessly strong grip. He was about the same age as Hood, but looked as if he’d been around a few more corners.
‘He’s the senior investigating officer,’ said Hood.
‘Mad but lovable,’ I said.
‘Excuse me?’ said Springer.
‘Springer spaniels. You would only get one as a guide dog for the blind if you wanted rid of someone. I’m sorry – have a seat. Both of you. You’re lucky there’s only the two of you, because I only have two seats. If there were three of you, one of you would have to stand, and that would be awkward. I should invest in a third seat.’ I nodded at them. They nodded back. ‘If there were four of you, it would be absolute chaos.’ I sat down. They sat too. ‘Senior investigating officer for what?’
‘The murder of Jean Murray,’ said Hood.
‘Oh yes. Poor Jean.’
‘What is it exactly that you do?’ Springer asked.
‘Good question,’ I said. ‘With no easy answer.’
‘We believe you spoke to her shortly before her death,’ said Springer.
‘Day before,’ I said.
‘Did she intimate any particular fears to you? Threats received, et cetera.’
‘Intimate, no. State bluntly, yes. But you know this.’ I nodded at Hood. ‘You know who’s responsible. She was round the station often enough telling anyone who’d care to listen.’
‘Well we’re interested in your take on it,’ said Springer. ‘Who do you think was responsible?’
‘Apart from the bleeding obvious, I have no idea. Who do you think caused it?’
Springer ignored my question.
Hood said, ‘Would you be prepared to come in and make a statement about what Jean Murray said to you, when you met her?’
‘You mean about her accusing the Miller boys of shooting her son in the leg, and them threatening her and trying to burn her house down on previous occasions?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, no, obviously.’
‘It would help us build a case.’
‘Well come back and see me when you’re putting the slates on, because I’m pretty sure if I give you a statement it’ll be the only one you have, which means I’m down in the foundations somewhere, which is where I’ll end up if the Miller boys get wind of it.’
‘You’re refusing to cooperate?’ Springer asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘You can be compelled to, by a court of law. You’re withholding information.’
‘Really?’ I looked at Hood. ‘Does he always talk like this? He doesn’t exactly have a winning way about him.’
‘You can give us a statement now, or we can take you in.’
I nodded some, and contemplated the skylight. It was more of a skydark, but that wasn’t a word.
‘Have you ever heard the expression, you can take a horse to water but you can’t make him drink?’ I asked. ‘Or maybe, you can take a whore to culture but you can’t make her sing?’
I put my feet back on the desk. I clasped my hands behind my head. It was supposed to give the impression of being relaxed and cool. They didn’t look overly impressed. But I wasn’t of a mind to care. Besides, I didn’t believe they were the slightest bit interested in my statement. And almost immediately they proved it.
Springer said: ‘When you were at the Murray house, did you speak to her son, Bobby?’
‘Bobby with the one leg?’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘You didn’t speak to him?’
‘No.’
‘Have you spoken with him since the fire in which his mother was killed?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know his whereabouts?’
‘No.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘I think no pretty much covers it.’
Springer shifted forward in his chair. ‘Cards on the table here, bucko. You were seen with him.’
‘You were spotted with him in a café just a few doors down. He’s hard to miss.’
‘But seriously, bucko?’
Hood shifted forward too. ‘Dan, don’t mess around. We’re trying to help him. You were spotted together.’
‘You may think that, but it wasn’t him,’ I said. ‘You see, I do a lot of charitable work amongst the one-legged community. I’m getting a team together for the paramilitary Paralympics. He’s probably been mistaken for someone else, or vice versa, seeing as how they all have the same affliction and wear the same tracksuits and shit.’
‘You should know,’ Springer said, ‘that at this moment the Millers are not the focus of our inquiry.’
Now that surprised me. ‘Meaning?’
‘There is certain evidence to suggest that Bobby Murray may have been complicit in the death of his mother.’
‘Complicit by annoying the Millers?’
‘Complicit by setting the fire himself,’ said Hood.
‘You’re serious?’
They did appear to be.
Springer said, ‘Bobby Murray not only has drugs-related convictions, but he also has one for arson. He was known not to get on with his mother; they were heard to be fighting by neighbours on the night of the fire. You could make the case.’
‘You mean, you could make the case.’ Springer kept his gaze steady on me. ‘And it would be laughed out. You know that’s just crazy bollocks.’
Springer raised an eyebrow. ‘We want to talk to him. If you know where he is, you tell us. If you know someone who’s sheltering him, you should let them know we want to talk to him. And if you do know that someone, well maybe they should think twice about leaving him alone with a box of matches.’ He nodded. I nodded. ‘You may consider this a courtesy visit,’ he said. ‘We know you know where he is. Do yourself a favour and either wire us off or bring him in.’
‘Duly noted,’ I said.
Springer stood, put his hands on the table and leant forward. ‘I was told you had an attitude problem. I was told you used to be a big-shot reporter. That you thought you could get away with murder because you were someone. Well you’re before my time. I’ve never heard of you. And whatever you were, you aren’t now. So if I were you, bucko, I’d watch out for myself.’
At that, the buzzer sounded.
‘Your taxi’s here,’ I said.
Springer made a sudden feint forward, as if to attack.
I moved an involuntary fraction. He smiled. He turned. Hood raised an eyebrow and went with him.
I sat back. The buzzer sounded again. When I pressed it, a gruff voice said, ‘Mr Starkey? Can we come up?’
‘That depends,’ I said. ‘Who are we?’
‘We’re here representing Jack Caramac and Cityscape FM.’
‘Representing? Are you like his agent? Or his estate agent?’
‘I’m his solicitor,’ said the man.
And then another voice chipped in: ‘And I’m from Malone Security.’
‘Wow,’ I said, ‘it’s my lucky day. Okay, you can come up. Any friends of Jack’s are friends of mine. Just let me tell you the password.’
‘Yeah, sorry, can’t be too careful. Two of my security guys are about to open the front door. Just say to them, You’ll never take me alive, copper, and they’ll let you right up.’
I took my finger off the buzzer, replaced my feet on the desk and awaited developments.