‘You ever tried using something on yourself? Your own personal hygiene has a lot to answer for. BO preferable to you, is it?’
The two men glared at each other, then Brandon turned to Anna. ‘What do you think?’
She shrugged.
‘Go on, you can tell me — what do you think? Most women like it; in fact, it was my girlfriend who gave it to me.’
‘Maybe you are used to it. As it’s obviously a very expensive cologne, perhaps you need only a little dab or so.’
‘You see?’ Brandon turned to Harry. ‘She likes it.’
Harry gave a grunt and walked off, as Brandon went over to the other women in the incident room. Anna gave a covert look: one after the other was asked to smell his cheeks. It was really quite funny; Brandon was obviously upset.
Sheldon emerged from his office. ‘Anna?’ He gestured to her. ‘We’ve got Murphy’s solicitor coming in. He wants to discuss some of the defence queries — the photograph, et cetera. So when he gets here, take him into interview room one.’
‘Money for old rope,’ Blunt said, sitting at his desk.
Anna looked over to him.
‘Makes me sick! His barrister will earn more from this trial on fucking Legal Aid than I’ll probably earn in a year. We shouldn’t have to go to the expense of a triaclass="underline" we know he did it — he’s admitted he did it! Just get him before a judge and bang him up. Better still, give the swine a lethal injection. That’s what I’d vote for, but none of these bloody politicians we’ve got will even contemplate capital punishment, because they’re scared of losing their jobs! Do you know, we’ve got just one probation officer for every thirty-seven convicts — that’s on record — and I’m not talkin’ about petty criminals. Thirty-seven criminals, right? That’s rapists and murderers they are supposed to stop re-offending. It’s a farce! They can only spend about three-quarters of an hour with each bastard in an average working week!’
Harry would have continued if the by now very irritated Brandon hadn’t interrupted to say that Murphy’s solicitor had arrived and was waiting in reception.
Anna asked for him to be taken into interview room one, as Sheldon had suggested.
Brandon turned on her. ‘Go get him yourself, Travis.’
‘Yeah,’ Blunt put in. ‘Better take him or Brandon’s cologne might gas him before he makes it down the corridor.’
The other man hurled a book at Blunt, who laughed.
Anna crossed to the door, and then turned to ask Brandon what the solicitor’s name was. Brandon, ducking a flying missile from Harry Blunt, said for Anna to watch out: Luke Griffith was a real operator.
Anna left the two men behaving like children, chucking rolled-up papers at each other.
Luke Griffith greeted Anna with a warm handshake. They went from the station reception into a rather small and airless interview room. Griffith drew out a chair for Anna and then sat opposite her. He was wearing an immaculate pin-striped suit and a blue shirt with a white collar and a dark tie. The cuffs of the shirt were also white, and he had tapering, well-manicured hands. He was very clean cut, with a chiselled face and dark eyes; even his hair seemed to be coiffured to perfection.
‘This shouldn’t take long.’ His voice was soft and upper class.
‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘No, thank you. I had this station’s brew when I was last here.’ Griffith opened his briefcase and took out a notebook; then, from his pocket, a slim gold pen. ‘Right, now you are Detective Inspector Anna Travis.’
‘Yes.’
‘As you know, Arthur George Murphy is my client. All I’m here for is to get a few things cleared up, for me to pass on to his barrister.’
Anna said nothing. Griffith stared at his empty page then wrote the date, checked his wristwatch and noted down the time.
‘You visited Mr Murphy’s sister, a Gail Dunn, now calling herself Gail Sickert?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she gave you a photograph?’
‘Yes.’
‘This photograph was subsequently used to identify Mr Murphy’s associate, Vernon Kramer.’
‘Yes.’
‘Which then led you to his residence, where my client was staying.’
‘Yes.’
‘He was subsequently arrested, and charged with the murder of Irene Phelps.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you at any time talk to Mr Kramer?’
‘No.’
‘Were you present at Mr Murphy’s interrogation?’
‘No.’
Griffith made notes and then tapped the page. ‘Very fortunate discovery, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Without this photograph, you might not have been able to trace my client.’
‘Possibly.’
‘And, as you must be aware, my client admitted to the murder and rape of Mrs Phelps.’
‘Yes.’
Griffith now tapped his teeth with the pen. ‘And you are aware that Vernon Kramer is being charged with harbouring a known criminal and perverting the course of justice?’
‘Yes.’
‘Unpleasant duo.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I said, unpleasant duo — but then, we do what we have to do.’
Anna remained silent.
‘Mr Murphy is now claiming that Vernon Kramer was a party to the murder of Irene Phelps.’
Anna sat back. No one had been told this.
‘I doubt if I believe him,’ Griffith added, ‘but I nevertheless have to make enquiries, as the defence will automatically want to either use this or dismiss it as fabrication.’
‘As far as I am aware, Mr Murphy admitted to the murder and at no time made any mention that he had an accomplice,’ Anna told him. ‘Again, to my knowledge, there was no DNA or forensic evidence to prove that Mr Kramer was also in Mrs Phelps’s flat.’
‘So you would say he is lying?’
‘I would say that, yes.’
‘Can I ask how you obtained the photograph of Mr Kramer and Mr Murphy?’
‘Murphy’s sister, Gail Sickert, gave it to me.’
‘Did Mrs Sickert also give you Vernon Kramer’s name?’
‘No, she did not. She said that she couldn’t recall his name, just that he spoke with a Newcastle accent and had visited her on one occasion some months past.’
‘So you were not aware that Mrs Sickert had, at one time, had a relationship with Mr Kramer?’
Anna shook her head, stunned. ‘No! In fact, she appeared to resent the fact that her brother, Mr Murphy, had brought him to her home. She didn’t like her brother, nor, for that matter, did she want any kind of contact with him. She implied that he had molested her when she was a teenager.’
Griffith spent a few moments writing and then turned the page. ‘So you didn’t think it strange that she would keep this photograph of her brother, who you say she implied molested her? Why keep a photograph of him and his friend?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You see, Detective Inspector Travis, I have been told a slightly different version of events: that, whilst Mrs Sickert was out of the room, you took this photograph without permission.’
Anna slapped the table with her hand ‘That is a total lie. I was given the photograph.’
‘Do you have a witness?’
‘No, I don’t. Mrs Sickert gave me that photograph; I never even asked her if she had one. She volunteered it and searched through a drawer, then she handed it to me. Your client, Mr Murphy, must have got to her or something. Whatever you are trying to do regarding the photograph is really beyond belief. Have you seen the photographs of how Irene Phelps’s body was found? And discovered by her twelve-year-old daughter?’
‘I am aware of the fact that her daughter—’
‘Who will have to live for the rest of her life with the memory of her mother’s raped and brutalized body! Live with the sight of her mother covered in blood, knowing that, as she lay dying, her killer — your client — was cutting up a sandwich with the knife that had cut her throat.’ Anna pushed back her chair. ‘I really have no more time to waste discussing this with you, Mr Griffith. As you said, you don’t pick your clients; well, you have a disgusting animal as one. I hope you can sleep at night, trying in any way possible to get him a lesser sentence. He should never be released.’