Jessica changed the channel on to some reality show spin-off. She wasn’t really interested but was happy to sit through anything that would take her mind off the day’s shambles. The sun had almost set and, even with the flat’s curtains open, the room was pretty dark. She was still wearing her work suit but felt warm and a little sleepy. She put her head on the armrest of the sofa, sinking further into it and shut her eyes for a moment.
She awoke with a jump what she thought was a few seconds later. She had finally changed the ringtone of her phone to some rock song she loved from when she was younger. She could hear the tune kicking in but didn’t know where the sound was coming from. The television was off and the room was light. She looked at the analogue clock on the wall above the TV but couldn’t really take in what it was telling her. Disorientated, she tried to sit up. There was a blanket over her that fell to the floor. The noise stopped and she rubbed her eyes to get a better look at the time. It was sometime around five-past-nine. Had she really slept all night? Caroline must have come in and switched the set off and put the blanket over her.
She shook her head, trying to wake up and went to look for her phone. Her bag and shoes were on the floor next to the living room door as they always were but her phone wasn’t in her bag. Jessica hunted around the room, looking under the pile of magazines on the coffee table, then the table itself. Eventually she found the device under the sofa. She thought she had left it in her bag but had long since failed to be surprised by where her phone or keys ever ended up. She once found her keys in the fridge, so anything was possible.
Jessica thumbed a few buttons and saw she had a missed call from the station’s landline number. She called the number back.
The desk sergeant’s familiar voice answered. ‘Wondered what you were up to. Big night, was it?’
‘Not really. What’s up?’
‘Want to guess who walked into the station half-hour ago?’
‘Lapham? Really?’
‘Yep. It’s not him you’ll have to worry about though. Guess who he was with?’
Jessica started to wrack her brain but was still too half-asleep for a guessing game. ‘No, go on.’
‘He’s sat downstairs with everyone’s favourite lawyer Peter Hunt.’
Jessica’s first thought was that Hunt was supposed to be busy dealing with Harry’s stabbing case then she remembered it was Saturday. A second thought then occurred to her; how on earth had a career criminal like Wayne Lapham managed to get one of the best-known defence lawyers in the city, possibly the country, to represent him? Then the penny dropped. Lapham had been all over the previous night’s news and there was little doubt he would be on the front of most of that day’s papers. The chance to represent someone as high-profile as that must have been too much for Hunt to resist. Maybe Lapham had even read about Tom Carpenter handing himself in via Hunt? Or perhaps he had seen something of the Worrall case? Hunt certainly got enough coverage so most of Manchester’s underworld must have been aware of him.
Jessica had a peek around Caroline’s door and could see two bodies entwined with each other sleeping under a sheet. She thought she would leave them to it and left the house quietly without changing. She had slept in her suit from the day before but reckoned it would do for a Saturday.
At the station, even with a reduced staff for the weekend, Jessica could feel a buzz as she walked in. A couple of officers were hanging around the entrance area and stopped to look at her as she walked towards reception. The sergeant who had phoned her called her over and gave her an envelope with her name on it. ‘This was dropped in for you,’ he said.
Jessica ripped across the top to find a court summons inside. After the trial’s start had been delayed, her day at Crown Court was going to be Tuesday. She was not only going to be facing Peter Hunt today but in three days’ time as well. She wanted to phone Harry but figured it could wait, doubting he would answer anyway.
‘DI Cole is already in his office,’ said the sergeant. ‘He said to go see him when you got in. DCI’s upstairs too.’
‘Full house today then?’
The desk sergeant gave her a wink. ‘Just like any other day.’
Jessica went to see DI Cole first. His office was only two doors down from hers and right next to the canteen. It was a room smaller than the office she and DS Reynolds shared but the inspector did at least have the space to himself. Jessica knocked once on his door and went in. He was sitting behind the desk typing on the computer but stopped and looked up as she entered.
‘Hey,’ Jessica said.
‘You’ve heard then?’
‘Hunt? Yeah got the call. Are we going in together?’
‘Yes. I spoke to DCI Aylesbury already. He was fuming Hunt was involved but just said to play it cool.’
Jessica gave him a small smile. ‘That’s a given for you anyway.’
‘I think he was talking about you.’
Jessica went to the interview room to set up the tape, while DI Cole went to get Wayne Lapham and his solicitor from the holding cells below the station. Although he had come voluntarily, Lapham was still their only suspect in a double murder and had been arrested accordingly. He had been locked in a cell while awaiting Jessica’s arrival. A few minutes later, he was brought handcuffed into the interview room by DI Cole and a uniformed officer, with Peter Hunt by his side.
Wayne Lapham was short but still had broad shoulders and a fiery look about him. Jessica knew from his file that he was forty but he looked older. He was unshaven, while his greying dark hair was cropped close to his head and there was a visible scar across his forehead that ended above his left eye. He was wearing a sweatshirt but with the sleeves rolled up revealing two arms completely covered with tattoos of varying designs. Jessica saw that his tracksuit bottoms had a small but clear hole in one of the knees. Peter Hunt, on the other hand, looked immaculate. He stood tall next to his client, towering over him in what looked like a custom-fitted brown pinstripe suit. He was wearing a white shirt with a wide collar and a thick matching brown tie knotted tight to his neck. His blonde hair had no traces of white or grey in it and was impressively styled into an almost quiff but with something of a side-parting. He was carrying a leather briefcase that looked very expensive.
They couldn’t have looked more different.
Lapham was the first to sit, with Hunt taking the chair next to him, putting his case down by his side and placing a notepad on the table. DI Cole sat next to the tape recorder, pressing the buttons to start the recording and, as usual, introduced everyone present and formally cautioned the suspect. Jessica stayed standing while that happened before finally taking her seat directly opposite her only suspect.
Nobody had said a word before Wayne Lapham said: ‘Ye are pretty cute, y’know?’ He was looking directly at Jessica and gave her a wink. She noticed that he had an earring in his right ear and another tattoo just below his earlobe. He had a Scottish accent that had clearly mellowed with time but was still noticeable.
Peter Hunt said nothing so Jessica let the silence hang before asking him where he had been during the hours Yvonne Christensen had been killed.
‘Pub? Home? Sleeping? I dunno. Where were you?’ The reply was forceful, a direct challenge.
DI Cole stepped in. ‘Mr Hunt, would you like to
advise
your client?’
Hunt had a neutral expression on his face, looking down at a notepad in front of him. He glanced at his client. ‘Just answer as best you can, Wayne.’
‘I’ll try again,’ Jessica said then repeated the question.
Lapham said nothing but smiled ever so slightly. ‘Tuesday at twelve I was at the pub until I went home for tea. I stayed there until midday the next day when I went back to the pub. Simple; if I’m not at home, I’m at the pub.’
Lapham’s attitude was already pushing Jessica’s buttons. ‘Not breaking into people’s homes then?’
Hunt immediately cut in, looking up from his notes at Jessica. ‘Excuse me detective. Are you accusing my client of breaking into homes on that day?’
Jessica ignored him. ‘Where were you between the hours of 8.25am and 3pm on Wednesday?’
Lapham didn’t even sound angry, just antagonistic. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Jessica once during the interview. ‘Are you deaf?’
‘Just answer,’ said Hunt quietly.
‘Home and pub. It’s not hard.’
Jessica met his glare. ‘You see, Wayne, the problem is that you’re the one link we’ve got to both of these murders. Isn’t it funny, you burgle both their houses then a year later they end up dead?’
Lapham slid his chair back slightly with a screech, finally taking his eyes from Jessica he laughed quietly while Hunt again spoke. ‘My client has never been found guilty of a burglary, detective. I think you should be careful of who you’re accusing.’
Jessica again let that hang in the air, refusing to rise to it. ‘Okay then
Wayne
, let’s go back to last year. Let’s talk about this man in the pub you “bought” all those stolen items from, shall we?’
Hunt moved as if he was about to speak up but simply let out a little cough. Jessica met Lapham’s gaze again. He had eyes that were a very pale blue, almost grey. His stare was unwavering. ‘I don’t really remember.’
‘Come on Wayne, this mysterious man is the number one suspect in a double murder. You’re our star witness. Do you want to try again?’
‘He was a man.’
‘That’s a start...’
‘Wearing a baseball cap’ Jessica said nothing.
‘I don’t remember any more than that.’
Jessica sighed, looked at DI Cole, then Hunt, then back at Lapham. ‘The problem is, Wayne, that I just don’t believe you. I don’t believe there was a man in the pub. I think
you
stole those items and I think
you
went back to those houses and murdered two innocent people for whatever sick reason you could come up with.’
She wasn’t sure if she did believe that or not but had nothing else to go on. Hunt spoke more loudly this time. ‘Detective, my client has been cleared of those burglaries.
Cleared
. Now if you have any evidence, any single scrap at all that he was at any of those scenes then – or at any of them last week – then produce it. If not, then let him go and we can all get back to enjoying the weekend.’
Jessica ignored him. ‘How did you get back into those houses a second time?’ No answer. ‘How did it feel strangling those victims, Wayne?’ The two of them continued to stare at each other as if DI Cole and Lapham’s lawyer were invisible. ‘Did you enjoy it?’ Jessica continued.
Hunt went to stand up, pulling his pad from the table as if to indicate the interview was over but his client didn’t move. ‘Fuck ye,’ Lapham said.
‘Ooooh. You’d like that wouldn’t you, Wayne? Violent man like you. Is that what you got up to in prison? Is that how you got that scar?’
‘De-tec-tive!’ Hunt was shouting now, standing up to his full height and indicating for his client to do the same. DI Cole shuffled nervously in the seat next to her but neither Jessica nor Lapham moved. The suspect didn’t say a word either. He continued to stare at Jessica with neither of them wanting to be the first to look away.
‘Yous have got fuck all on me and yous know it.’
Jessica did know it and trying to wind him up was simply having the opposite effect. She was allowing herself to be frustrated by Lapham’s lack of cooperation. ‘Who’s the girl?’ Jessica asked. Hunt was still standing but, with the obvious lack of movement from his client, had little option other than to sit again.
‘What girl?’
‘The one at your flat. Wife? Girlfriend? Mistress? Sister? Girlfriend and sister?’
‘What’s it to ye?’
‘Nothing... just that when she phoned to tip you off about us looking for you yesterday, that was what we call “obstructing a police constable in execution of their duty”. It’s called a criminal offence, something I know you’re very familiar with.’
DI Cole shuffled nervously, while Jessica knew she was on thin ice. ‘We’ve already checked the phone records,’ she lied then snapped her fingers. ‘I could send an officer round to pick her up like that.’
Lapham finally looked away, peering towards his Hunt. ‘That true?’
Hunt stumbled over his words. ‘I, er, well I don’t know. It could be an offence...’
His client was suddenly angry, his cool expression and steely stare gone. Jessica had the feeling she was finally seeing the real Wayne Lapham. ‘Why won’t ye lot leave us alone? I’ve not done nothing wrong. Every time I get out and try to get clean I have ye lot banging on my door, stopping me in the street. It’s not right.’
He was finally animated; he banged on the desk with his cuffed hands, any pretension of coolness gone. ‘“Not done nothing” is a double-negative, Wayne. Can I take that as a confession?’ Jessica smiled.
Hunt cut back in. ‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous.’ He looked to DI Cole. ‘Are these questions going anywhere? If you’ve got anything at all on my client then charge him. If not, let’s end this ridiculous grandstanding.’
Even Hunt’s demeanour had slipped with that exchange. Jessica knew she was pushing it. She didn’t even know where she was going but she hoped her superior wouldn’t shut her down. ‘The problem is, Wayne, that you
don’t
go out and get clean, do you? At the very least you go out and buy a load of stolen gear from some bloke down the pub who you just happen to not remember.’
Lapham was back to just staring at her, the calm had returned. ‘Ye are even cuter when ye are angry.’ He winked at her again.
DI Cole cut in even before Hunt could. ‘Right, this interview is going nowhere.’ He gave the time and said he was terminating the interview before stopping the tape and getting to his feet. ‘Mr Lapham, you are free to leave. I will find the keys to those cuffs and you can go out with your legal representative. Check with the sergeant on the front desk on the way out. He will give your lawyer further instructions regarding police bail. You may have to return here at a later date.’
DI Cole left the room, leaving the door ever so slightly ajar. Hunt was also standing and packing his notepad into his briefcase and shaking his head while making tutting noises. Jessica and Lapham had both remained seated, weighing each other up. Jessica finally relented, scraping her chair back, turning around and walking towards the door. Before she could get there, Lapham spoke. ‘Detective...’