‘Is there a question in there?’ Jones complained.
‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Jessie said, nodding to Gilchrist. ‘Got a mobile phone?’ she asked Magner.
‘Of course.’ He removed it from his jacket and slid it across the table.
‘I didn’t ask to see it. But I understand why you’re keen to let me check it out – to prove you never made any calls to or received any calls from Janice today.’ The mobile was a top-quality Samsung. She worked her way through the menus to Call Log, then said, ‘I must say you’ve surprised me.’
‘Why?’
Jessie stared hard at Magner. ‘You never asked who Janice was.’
‘I assume you’re talking about Janice Meechan, although I fail to see why that’s an issue.’
Gilchrist had to admit that Magner was good. Great, even. Give Jones his due, too – he hardly twitched. Of course, Jones would have been kept in the dark, fed only scraps Magner deemed safe to hand over. How could you lie if you didn’t know the truth?
‘She’s your late business partner’s sister-in-law,’ Jessie continued. ‘Or, to be more precise, your late business partner’s late wife’s sister. And the woman you’ve been screwing since Christmas.’
‘I’ve heard that rumour,’ Magner said. ‘So is that what this is about?’
‘This?’
‘This interview.’
‘Do you deny having an affair with her?’
‘Of course I deny that. Janice is a lovely woman, and a wonderful wife to Perry, and a fine mother to Jane and John. Is this how you speak of someone who’s in mourning for the brutal death of her sister and her family?’
Gilchrist noticed the present tense, and for the first time that night felt the tiniest of nips worrying his gut. So far, all they had to go on was instinct alone. But they were nearing the point when they needed to uncover some hard evidence.
And at that moment, it felt like there was none to find.
Jessie eyed Magner’s phone. ‘You didn’t ask why we were interested in you contacting her today.’
‘I couldn’t give a shit about why you’re interested in Janice. Something to do with the tragic death of her sister and her family, no doubt.’
‘I’m interested in why you contacted her.’
‘She’s an employee. She’s been with our company for the last ten years. She’s also my partner’s… sorry, my late partner’s sister-in-law. What’s so strange about me contacting her, today or any other day?’
‘Did she call you today?’
‘I haven’t spoken with her since yesterday, when I called the office.’
‘Did she call and leave a message today?’
‘If she did, I didn’t get it.’ Magner held out his hand, palm up. ‘You’ve got my phone. Check it and see.’
‘Can you be reached on any other numbers?’
Magner slid a hand into his pocket, retrieved his wallet, and opened it. ‘Here,’ he said, and removed a business card. ‘These are all the numbers I have.’
‘Do you know Janice is dead?’
Magner blinked once, twice, then said, ‘No. I didn’t. How…?’
‘Hit-and-run.’
‘What?’
‘You heard.’
Jones reached for Magner’s hand and squeezed.
Gilchrist thought he had seen it all, but this was play-acting at its worst.
Magner nodded to his phone. ‘I’d like to make a call.’
‘Who to?’
‘Perry, of course.’
‘I might have to confiscate this phone,’ Jessie said.
Jones slid his hand into his suit pocket.
‘No calls,’ Jessie snapped. ‘They can wait. You can phone when we’re done.’ She picked up Magner’s business card. ‘How did Janice compare to her sister, Amy?’
Jones frowned.
Magner said, ‘Now you’ve lost me.’
‘Amy McCulloch, aka Charlotte Renwick?’
Magner’s eyes turned to beads of ice.
‘You screwed her, too, didn’t you? Well, actually, you raped her.’
Jones said, ‘As your solicitor, Tom, I’m instructing you not to answer that.’ Then he glared at Jessie. ‘If you continue in-’
‘I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say,’ Jessie barked at him. Back to Magner. ‘I take it that’s a no?’ She gave him two seconds, then said, ‘Thomas Magner has refused to answer the question under instruction from his solicitor.’
Neither Gilchrist nor Stan said a word, just listened as Jessie continued to fire questions that Magner took in his salesman-smooth stride – the phrase perma-smirking bastard sprang to mind. And not a tear in sight for Janice, or Amy, or Brian, or the kids.
Fifteen minutes later, Gilchrist felt a ripple of relief as Jones leaned forward. ‘It seems to me that you’ve got nothing on my client,’ he said. ‘You’re fishing.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late, so I suggest you either charge my client with whatever the hell you think you can get away with, or we call it a night.’ He harrumphed a throat clearing and sat back.
Gilchrist hated to admit it, but Jones had a point. Jessie’s best attempts to rile Magner had failed. Not that she had handled the interview poorly, rather Magner had not slipped up once, shooting back answers with barely an intake of breath. You had to be a brilliant liar to do that. Or more worryingly, completely innocent.
That thought sent another stab of doubt through Gilchrist’s system. Did he have it all wrong? Was it only coincidence after all?
Defeated, he turned to Stan. ‘Anything you’d like to ask?’
Stan shook his head.
He turned to Jessie. ‘Anything else?’
She glanced at the clock on the wall and stood. ‘DS Jessie Janes leaving the interview room at twenty minutes to one.’
Jones waited until the door closed, then said, ‘So, this interview is over?’
‘For now,’ Gilchrist said. ‘We’re through, yes.’ He switched off the recorder.
Magner retrieved his phone from the table.
Jones eased himself to his feet. ‘I think it only fair to warn you that I’ll be writing a letter of complaint to Chief Constable Ramsay over the manner in which this interview was conducted. Never in my forty years of professional experience have I come across anything so outrageous. I’ll be seeking to have DS Janes severely reprimanded, and it would give me the greatest satisfaction to see her career terminated.’
‘You’re free to file a formal complaint,’ Gilchrist said. ‘Do you have the Chief Constable’s address?’
‘I’ll find it. Good night.’
Gilchrist waited until the pair of them shuffled out and the door closed, then turned to Stan. ‘What do you think?’
‘I watched his eyes every second, boss.’ Stan took a deep breath, then let it out with a shake of his head. ‘I have to tell you, he’s good.’
Not what Gilchrist wanted to hear. ‘Good as in…?’
‘I hate to say it, boss, but good as in innocent.’ He shook his head again. ‘I just don’t see it. Sorry, boss.’
A hoof to the gut could not have winded Gilchrist more. Over the years, he had come to trust Stan’s judgement and their instincts rarely clashed. But this was one of those rare occasions, and Gilchrist was only now beginning to question why he had been so blinkered. He had next to bugger all to suggest Magner was involved in the McCulloch murders, or Janice Meechan’s hit-and-run, for that matter. Whichever way he tried to cut it, Stan was right.
A feverish flush rose within him as he struggled to fight off an image of Amy McCulloch’s butchered body. He blinked once, twice, to force away the horror. But that left him with the painful realisation that his investigation was going nowhere, that he was failing, that over the last forty hours, the most critical period in any investigation, he had come up empty-handed.