Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(22)

‘Boss,’ said McGorry, putting a hand on her arm. ‘The interview’s over.’

Erika looked at McGorry and the solicitor, and the mess across the table, and she came back to her senses.

‘Yes.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Henry, picking up his bag from the corner of the room, and seeing where he’d been caught with vomit on the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ And he left. Erika and McGorry stood in shock.

‘We know one thing for sure. He had a big Christmas lunch,’ said McGorry, wrinkling his nose.





Fourteen





Erika and McGorry were joined in the corridor outside the interview room by Kay, who had been watching from the observation suite next door. She had with her a bunch of paper towels.

‘What the hell just happened in there?’ asked McGorry, taking one and dabbing at the sleeve of his suit. ‘Yuck, this is all I need today.’ He gingerly took off his jacket.

‘I got to him. I hit a nerve,’ said Erika. She absently took the offered paper towels, and saw she had managed to remain unscathed.

‘We don’t know that those photos and the video have anything to do with the Marissa Lewis case. This looks like revenge porn,’ said Kay.

‘I’ve got to get rid of this jacket, I won’t be a sec, Boss,’ said McGorry, holding his jacket between thumb and finger and hurrying off.

‘Revenge porn is about scorned lovers, and exposing. No. Whoever it is on that video is blackmailing him not to talk,’ said Erika.

‘We can’t use past trauma as leverage.’

‘I was so bloody close.’

‘How? How can we be close to something completely in the dark to us, ma’am?’

Erika turned to her. ‘You need to make sure that interview room is cleaned properly,’ she said, handing back the paper towel. ‘And don’t call me ma’am.’



* * *



Erika came back up to her office. She put in calls to Isaac, and forensics, but they both told her they wouldn’t be able to come back with anything until the next day. She then called the officer who was following up on the house-to-house in Coniston Road, and he told her that the two men who had been involved with Marissa, Don Walpole and Ivan Stowalski, had still not been made contact with. He did, however, have the contact details for Marissa’s friend, Sharon-Louise Braithwaite, who worked at the hair salon. Erika thanked him and wrote down the number. She was about to call her when there was a knock at her door.

‘What?’

It opened and McGorry stuck his head round.

‘Alright, Boss. The doc has examined Pitkin. There’s nothing wrong with him physically. Blood pressure okay, temperature okay, no infection, but he’s recommended to the custody sergeant that Pitkin gets a couple of hours’ rest and the chance to calm down before we attempt to interview him again. He’s still in quite a state.’

Erika looked at her watch. It was coming up to midday.

‘I’ve got five hours before I have to decide whether or not to keep him in custody for another couple of days. I’m no closer to being able to charge him… You know you can come into my office; you don’t have to hang around in the doorway!’ she snapped. McGorry came inside and shut the door behind him. ‘Okay, direct question. Do you think he did it?’

McGorry shrugged. ‘I dunno if he’s got it in him. The person who did it went batshit crazy. Hacking at her with a knife. They would have been covered in blood. And what about the trail of blood from the crime scene? He doesn’t have a car. We haven’t found a murder weapon.’

‘Who do you think is blackmailing him with the photos?’

‘Could be a man or a woman. Judging from his reaction, I think it’s a man. You can see in the photos that he’s not a willing participant, or if he was at the beginning, he wasn’t by the time he was strapped in and naked. He was being overpowered physically. He looks terrified. And of course, he yakked all over the interview room when he saw we had the photos and video.’

‘He could have been working as a rent boy,’ said Erika. ‘No, the family is well off.’

‘He was signing on at the Jobcentre.’

‘There’s too many questions surrounding him, and you’re right, he did look frightened in the video. We should tread carefully. Whoever this person is, they have the power to terrify him.’





Fifteen





Four floors down, in the custody suite, Joseph lay on the single bunk in the harsh light of the cell, staring at the tiny window. His face was ashen, and he was almost catatonic with fear. He had been checked over by a doctor, cleaned up, and put back in his cell. He wore dark jeans, ripped at each knee, and a thick dark sweater. His belt and shoes had been taken from him.

He could hear voices echoing in the corridor. A group of young lads had been arrested and brought in, and were making a noise, shouting and swearing at the custody sergeant.

How did they get those photos? he thought. I deleted them. He told me if I kept my mouth shut, no one would see them.

Joseph saw the face of the man he knew as ‘T’: a wide, handsome face with a high forehead. Piercing eyes. He had thought they were friends, and T had trusted him enough to show him what he kept in the basement.