For a split second, Mahoney’s intake of breath paused, before quickly resuming. It was a fleeting involuntary response in an otherwise perfect act.
In the observation room, Laura had joined Jack. Neither thought Mahoney was going to speak a single word today; the best they were hoping for was that his refusal to speak turned out to be equally as damning.
In the same relaxed, informal tone of voice, Ridley continued. ‘It’s been suggested that you have dozens of bolt-holes similar to Woodridge Place scattered across London. Possibly hundreds across the UK. And the same in Europe. I don’t know: they’re not connected to my case. I assume that part of your confidence in police interviews, Mr Mahoney, comes from the fact that you can’t be forensically linked to any of those properties. I assume you’ve not even been to them. So, why did you go to Avril’s house?’
Nothing from Mahoney.
‘Had she changed much since the last time you saw her? In Leeds, I mean.’
Mahoney pushed himself back in his seat and crossed his legs. It was a small, natural movement, but now his relaxed disposition had gone, replaced with a more defensive stance. Mahoney was far from crumbling, but he was certainly getting uncomfortable.
Barker felt the need to justify his presence. ‘My client has already stated that he does not know Avril Jenkins.’
‘I know what your client has stated, but he’s lying. Object to that if you like, but it’s not speculation, it’s a statement of fact.’
From the file, Ridley removed the old photographs that had been pinned to the whiteboard in the squad room. Images of Avril and a series of friends playing in back streets, playgrounds and fields, through summer and winter. He laid them on the table one by one, directly in Mahoney’s eyeline so there was no way of him avoiding them. Ridley pointed to the teenage Avril, identifying her in each image. Then he pointed to the small blond boy. ‘This is you. Facial recognition says it’s you.’
Jack and Laura looked at each other. ‘He’s certainly a chancer!’ Laura grinned.
‘He’s a bullshitter,’ Jack corrected her. ‘It’s fascinating watching him working, though.’
Ridley had used the words ‘facial recognition’ carefully. They implied, but did not state, that he was referring to computer software, whereas in truth, he’d had no time to check the photographs properly. Like Jack, he was working on a hunch. But the likeness between the small blond boy and Mahoney was undeniable. Ridley placed the old mug shot of Mahoney onto the table, tapping it with his finger. Mahoney gritted his teeth but remained silent.
‘When you bumped into her again, Michael, what did you think?’
Mahoney placed his hand flat on top of all the photographs. Barker was now faintly grimacing at the thought of the secrets Mahoney might be about to give away.
‘It must have been very interesting when you met Avril more recently and discovered she was a wealthy widow.’
Mahoney’s cheek muscles twitched almost imperceptibly.
In the observation room, Jack instructed the two uniformed officers to go and stand outside the interview room as Mahoney became visibly more tense. Ridley checked his watch. Eleven forty a.m. — the video footage that Adam had promised to send should be arriving shortly.
‘Did she remember you, Michael? I mean, she wouldn’t remember you in the same fond way that you remembered her, but did she remember you at all? Or did you have to introduce yourself? Did you finally make advances towards her?’
This made Mahoney look up and, for the first time, they locked eyes. Mahoney was clearly angry.
Ridley tapped the photograph of the young Mahoney looking at Avril with adoration. ‘You look as if you were infatuated back then. So, tell me Michael, if you once loved Avril Summers, why did you kill her?’
Barker quickly stepped in, for fear of what Mahoney might say or do. ‘Will you be presenting actual evidence at any stage, DCI Ridley?’
Ridley ignored the question and focussed completely on Mahoney. ‘Mr Mahoney, do you still maintain that you never entered Avril Jenkins’ home?’ Mahoney’s nostril’s flared as he desperately tried to think what Ridley was working up to. ‘Were you ever inside 27 Woodridge Place, Kingston?’
Again, Barker stepped in to protect his client. ‘Mr Mahoney has already answered that question.’
‘I’m asking him again because he’s mistaken.’ Ridley sat forwards, well within Mahoney’s long reach. ‘You know what I think, Michael? I think you knew she was going to die that night and you just couldn’t stay away.’
Barker tried to butt in, complaining about fishing trips and unfounded speculation, but both Mahoney and Ridley ignored him. Mahoney now stared, dead-eyed, unblinking, allowing his anger to build. This is what Ridley was banking on. If he could tip Mahoney beyond the point of no return, they’d have him.
‘I think you sent your men to kill her, then thought, Fuck this, I’m gonna do it myself. What did she do, Michael? Was she pissing you off by reporting thefts to the local police — patrol cars and uniforms coming and going, and you with a mega delivery ready for distribution? She was playing with fire. Playing with you! Didn’t she know who you are now? Or did she still see that little blond boy? No respect. Is that why you picked up that poker and shattered her skull?’
Mahoney raised both his fists high above his head and slammed them down onto the desk, sending the photographs bouncing into the air. Barker jumped almost as high out of his chair.
Jack stood in the open doorway of the observation room, from where he could still watch Ridley. In the corridor, the two uniformed officers were like coiled springs, waiting for his signal to go in. He held a hand up — Ridley wasn’t done yet.
‘No fucking comment, you bastard, NO COMMENT!’ Mahoney roared. His white-knuckled fists were pressed hard against the desk, as he tried to stop himself from lashing out.
Ridley gestured for Barker to sit down. Then he collected the photographs and replaced them in the folder.
‘Mr Mahoney, you left one fingerprint in her home. The home you deny ever being inside of. We matched that one print to the prints in your file.’
Ridley watched Mahoney open his fists and spread his fingers and then clasp them together as he retained control of his temper.
‘No comment.’
Jack perched on the windowsill watching Ridley make two decaf coffees. ‘His outburst, plus the partial on the poker, plus the video should be enough. It means we’ve got him for another forty-eight hours, not that I think he’ll say anything else.’
Jack sipped his coffee, grimaced and threw Ridley a filthy look. Ridley repeated the health benefits of decaf coffee and said it would do Jack the world of good to detox — then they both froze as Jack’s mobile pinged and an email landed. They held their breath for the few seconds it took to open.
‘Do you want two-for-one vitamin supplements from Holland & Barrett?’ Jack asked.
Ridley headed for his desk and slumped into his chair. ‘Fuck’s sake.’ The waiting was killing them both.
By 12.50, Jack’s mobile had pinged another seven times. None of the emails were from Adam Border. He was now around an hour late in delivering on his promise but while Ridley was losing faith, Jack was still sure that Adam would be true to his word. He had to be. Three more insignificant emails landed. And by now the tension was mounting. Mahoney’s brief had been demanding an explanation as to why their interview had been terminated without Ridley sharing any evidence regarding an incriminating fingerprint. He was told that they would be served refreshments and must remain in the interview room or Mr Mahoney could be taken to the cells to wait if he preferred.