‘Eh?’
‘Find the bitch, find the dog,’ Miller said enigmatically. ‘Flush her out and we’ve got him, cos a woman is always the weakest link — goodnight!’ he snapped and laid himself out on the camp bed. He closed his eyes and began to snore.
‘You cool bastard,’ Crazy said admiringly, but felt pretty laid back himself. He stretched out on the settee, reached for a pair of earphones and the remote control for the portable CD and pressed play. He lay back as the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra soothed him into oblivion.
The prisoner was led into the interview room where he was searched again, then allowed to sit across the table (which was screwed firmly to the floor) from Henry Christie. Karl Donaldson leaned nonchalantly against the wall by a reinforced window and watched without comment.
As a ‘not guilty’ remand prisoner, Joe Sherridan was permitted to wear his own clothing, but it was creased and grubby, as was the man himself. His short period of time on remand was obviously affecting him for the worse. He looked like he had not slept, eaten or relaxed. Good, Henry thought, it’s easier to get someone when they’re down.
‘Afternoon, Joe,’ Henry said.
No response, just a glare of contempt.
‘Not going well, eh?’ Still nothing. ‘Well, what can you expect when you stick a knife into your girlfriend’s heart? The Ritz? Applause? Sympathy?’
‘I’m pleading not guilty.’
Henry shrugged. He did not care.
‘All you’ve got is my confession — and a forced one at that. My brief says I’ll walk.’
‘Just remember all those little things you told me on tape, Joe. All those little details which only someone who committed the murder could have known about. All those details that no one but you and me knew about. How you wiped the knife on her skirt. How you also wiped it on a kitchen towel. How you tried to lose it down a particular grate in a particular street, the one we found it in. All those sorts of details are the ones known only to the killer and to me. You dug yourself in deep there, Joe my boy, and you didn’t know you were doing it, and it’s all recorded on tape. Joe, I promise you, you’ll get convicted of murder.’
‘So why come here? To gloat?’ Sherridan ran a trembling hand across his unshaven chin.
‘For a conversation that could go one of two ways, Joe. I could either be here to help you or completely bury you. At the moment we are completely off the record, aren’t we, boss?’ Henry turned to Donaldson for confirmation. He nodded. Henry looked back at Sherridan and winked. ‘He’s my boss. A good man.’
‘Just get on with it,’ Sherridan said tiredly.
‘Okay,’ said Henry. ‘I’m thinking of charging you with another murder.’
‘What!’
‘You heard.’
Sherridan shook his head. ‘Off the record — I did stab Jennifer, but she deserved it for playing around and rubbing it in, making me look like a fool, but I haven’t killed anyone else, not even in your wildest dreams, pal. Who are you talking about, anyway?’
‘I think you beat a girl to death in Blackpool, about a year ago.’
‘Yeah, right.’ He snorted.
‘I’m investigating a murder of a young girl who was a prostitute.’ Henry watched Sherridan’s reactions as he spoke. ‘She worked from a basement flat in North Shore. She was about fourteen years old, thin as a rake, and as yet we haven’t identified her.’
Sherridan was doing a lot of swallowing. Henry knew his throat must be the driest place on the planet right now.
‘So what?’ the prisoner blustered.
‘It’s very likely that her last client was the one who beat her to death. It was a vicious assault and she died a terrible, traumatic death, poor kid.’
‘Goes with the territory,’ Sherridan said coldly.
‘Murder does not go with any territory,’ Henry came back. He did not really believe his words, because he knew murder went with many territories. ‘But that’s by the by, Joe, because whether you believe it goes with the territory or not, I believe you murdered her.’
‘No way, no effin’ way.’
‘Do you know why I believe that?’
‘Astound me.’
‘Well, to be blunt, we found your spunk inside her.’
‘No you didn’t.’
‘Yes we did. Shall we have a pantomime here? No you didn’t, yes I did?’
‘You’re talking bollocks.’
‘An unfortunate turn of phrase, because I’m talking about what came swimming out of your bollocks, Joe. Your semen, your come, your jizz, whatever pet name you have for it. We found it inside her. Yours, no one else’s.’ Which wasn’t strictly true, but Henry wasn’t going to admit that.
‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ Sherridan said.
‘Don’t need to, Joe. Remember when we took that swab from your mouth after you’d been charged with murder?’ Sherridan looked stonily at Henry. ‘Do you know what that was for?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really.’
‘Advances in science. Genetic fingerprinting. DNA, Joe. Your DNA, that stuff which is in every one of your cells, totally exclusive to you, no one else, in every cell in every corner of your body, like a fingerprint, but better, that’s what the swab was for. And the result was checked on the national DNA database and was matched up to semen found in a murder victim — another murder victim. My, Joe, you’ve been a busy lad, a proper killing machine. Almost a serial killer now.’
Sherridan shot to his feet, gripping the edge of the table, towering over Henry aggressively. Donaldson tensed, ready to step in and flatten Sherridan.
Henry stayed seated and calm. He waved Donaldson down and said to Sherridan in a low voice, ‘Sit down, Joe, otherwise my boss will take very good care of you. Sit!’ Sherridan dropped slowly back into his chair.
‘I didn’t kill her.’
‘But you had sex with her and paid for it?’
‘I didn’t kill her’
‘Answer the question, Joe.’
‘Yes, I shagged her and paid for it, okay? But I never killed her.’
‘I never thought you did, Joe,’ Henry said and Sherridan glowered. ‘But I had to put it to you. Your sperm was found inside her, so what am I expected to think?’
‘Yeah, suppose so.’
‘But I want to know who did kill her.’
‘I haven’t a clue,’ he said, with relief in his voice.
‘I’ll tell you the deal,’ Henry said. ‘The deal is this: you tell me everything about your dealings with that prostitute, and I mean everything. How you met her, or were introduced to her, how you screwed her, what condition you left her in, who ran her, who was behind her and, of course, what her name is.’
‘Why should I do all that?’
It forced a laugh out of Henry that should have acted as a warning beacon to Sherridan. ‘Because if you don’t,’ the detective said in a measured tone, ‘I’ll charge you with her murder and I’ll go out of my way to make it stick, whether I believe it or not. You might get off, but I doubt it, not with your sperm inside her. It’s pretty compelling evidence. But, whatever, I’ll make you suffer the indignity of a double trial, because I’m a twat like that. I mean, no one else’s sperm was found inside her. Five million little swimmers all with your ugly face on them, all ready to tell their sordid tale. And another reason you’ll tell me what I want to know is that I can help you on the original murder charge.’
‘How?’
‘If you get convicted of Jennifer’s murder, which you will, you’ll go down for life. I’ll make sure the prosecution lay it on thick and you won’t even need to think about seeing the light of day for at least fifteen years. How old are you now? Thirty-eight? Let’s see, that’s. .’ Henry started to count on his fingers.
‘Fifty-three,’ Sherridan said glumly.
‘Fifty-three, yes. Not too old, I suppose, but fifteen years behind bars — hell! I can help you, but you have to give me everything in return.’
‘How can you help me?’
‘I can get the murder charge reduced to manslaughter like that!’ He clicked his fingers. ‘You could be walking in five years, or less if you’re a really good lad. I could really lay it on thick for the judge, about how she drove you to pig-sticking her, how she sent you mental, how she deserved what she got — though it is a bit ironic that you stiffed her because of her infidelity when you were being entertained by hookers. That’s how I can help you, Joe. Fifteen years down to five. But I want everything in return and if I don’t think you’ve given me everything, I won’t help you. I want names, addresses, dates, times, everything about your use of prostitutes. If you don’t give, you’ll be very old and gnarled when you walk out of prison.’