The Dentist, page 6
‘No comment.’
‘You had an argument with him on the night of the 27th. He then left and you ran after him.’
‘No comment.’
‘Which was the last time anyone saw Lenny alive.’
At this point Cross looked at Badger who immediately looked away. He didn’t want to hold Cross’ look, nor challenge it.
‘Can you remember following Lenny out of St Joseph’s?’ Cross asked.
‘No comment.’
Ottey had allowed Mackenzie to watch the interview in one of the monitor rooms. This wasn’t so much because she thought she’d learn something, which if she was bright she most certainly would, but by way of thanking her for her work on the initials and giving her a break. She tried to encourage where Cross failed to. So far, Mackenzie thought it was as dull as she imagined it would be with a hungover, homeless man. She hadn’t witnessed any of Cross’ legendary interview technique. She watched as Cross continued.
‘Well perhaps I can help you there. You see they have a CCTV camera over the entrance at St Joseph’s. Well that’s not unusual is it? I mean so many buildings do these days, don’t they? I discovered the other day that members of the public in Britain are captured on CCTV cameras an average of seventy times a day.’
That’s odd Mackenzie thought, she was sure Ottey told her that the CCTV wasn’t working. She diligently made a note to tell them Cross had slipped up.
‘I was surprised, I thought it might well be a lot more than that. But no, seventy. Mind you even at seventy, if you posit that the average Briton is up for sixteen hours out of twenty -four, on any given day and out of the house shall we say ten of those, that’s seven times an hour. Once every eight and a half minutes. Four hundred and ninety times a week.’ Cross stopped. It was as if he was considering what he had himself just said and was just as surprised by it as when he first discovered this statistic. The solicitor interrupted his chain of thought.
‘I’d like to talk to my client.’
‘I thought you might,’ Cross gathered up his file and left the room with Ottey. As they walked away down the corridor Mackenzie appeared from another office. She called after Ottey who stopped. Cross continued walking away.
‘DS Ottey, I thought there wasn’t any CCTV at the hostel.’
‘There wasn’t.’
‘But Cross just said there was.’
Cross had, of course, heard this and replied without stopping or turning round.
‘Not actually the case. I merely pointed out the fact that there was a CCTV camera over the front door, and expressed my surprise at how many times the average individual is caught on such cameras, daily, in the United Kingdom. I said nothing about the existence of any relevant footage, a question any competent solicitor would have asked, but sadly Badger hasn’t been furnished with such an individual.’ Mackenzie looked at Ottey who simply smiled and walked on.
Chapter 11
They had had just enough time to make themselves a cup of coffee when they were called back to the interview room. They sat and Cross placed the file six inches in front of him, making sure it was equidistant from the edges. When satisfied it was perfectly aligned, he looked up and asked Badger the same question he had asked before he left the room, as if it hadn’t been asked before.
‘Can you remember having an argument with Lenny on the night of the 27th of this month?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember what the argument was about?’
‘I’d stolen some food. He told me to give it back. That’s all it was.’
‘You’d argued with him before.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because sometimes he was really annoying. Always on my case.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was a nosey bugger.’
‘Why did you follow him?’
‘I didn’t. I just went out.’
‘Why would you leave a night shelter at eight o’clock at night?’
‘No comment.’
Cross stopped for a moment then decided to move on. He carefully took his list of questions, placed it in a lilac plastic folder and took another list out of a light yellow one. It was a single sheet. He placed it on the desk, considered the first question then looked up.
‘How did you get the cut on your head?’ he asked.
‘I fell.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘And the scratches?’
‘Look, I’ll tell you the truth.’
‘Thank you. That would be helpful,’ said Ottey. This was the first time she’d spoken. Cross took a breath. It had annoyed him, but he wouldn’t say anything in front of the suspect and also he had learnt from past experience that his reaction in these situations was often selfish and unwarranted – according to her. There were, after all, two of them conducting this interview and he should be mindful of that’ as well as grateful that, on the whole, she let him conduct the interviews as he saw fit and only interjected when she felt it necessary. Again, her words, but he was working with her and having thought about it, he could see that taking a back seat, as she invariably did, was a concession to him.
‘I can’t remember much. I was out of it. I only remember the argument. Then I don’t remember anything else. I swear to you. I don’t know what happened. I had an argument with Lenny and now he’s dead and I only know that because you’re telling me.’
Cross looked at him for a moment and what he saw was panic. Panic that he literally couldn’t remember what happened and his friend was dead.
‘It must be frightening. Really frightening,’ Cross said.
‘What?’
‘Being so drunk, being so inebriated that you have no recollection of what you did that night.’
Badger looked at the table. He started picking off bits of the polystyrene cup he was holding and dropping them on the floor.
‘You can’t remember. A man is dead. Your friend. You were seen arguing with him and then he was killed. This must be very frightening for you,’ Cross said.
Badger looked uncomfortable at the truth of this.
‘Did he hit you? Is that how you got that cut?’ Cross asked.
He decided the suspect needed some comfort. Some sort of explanation. Some way out.
‘You obviously weren’t in control - that could be a mitigating factor in court.’
Again Ottey interjected - she sensed a vulnerability in Badger.
‘Did you hit him?’ she asked.
‘I’d like a break. My head’s killing me.’
During interview breaks Cross would often observe the suspect in their cell. In this case Badger was just sitting on the bed staring at the floor.
‘You’d think he’d want to sleep,’ said Ottey.
‘No… he’s trying to remember. He’s trying to picture that night, but he can’t. I don’t think he actually can. That’s what’s frightening him. He’s beginning to wonder if he did actually do the unthinkable,’ Cross said.
But he had seen enough as well and walked back with Ottey to the open area. As they got there Mackenzie intercepted them.
‘So I’ve cross-referenced the list of weddings and the scleral patients. There’s no match,’ she said.
‘Shit,’ was all Ottey had to offer. This was their best chance of a lead. Cross thought for a minute.
‘It has to be there. You must’ve missed it,’ he said.
‘I’ve been over it a thousand times,’ said Mackenzie.
‘That seems highly unlikely given the time you’ve been on it. I’d like the list of all five hundred weddings and all the patients.’
‘I’ll have a look as well,’ said Ottey and before he could stop himself Cross said
‘That won’t be necessary.’
She glared at him. Ah, it had come out all wrong again. He attempted to backtrack.
‘In that you must be very busy and have other things to do,’ he said.
‘Two pairs of eyes are better than one,’ she replied with more than a hint of steel in her voice.
‘Indeed, it would be most useful.’
‘Three... pairs… actually’ said Mackenzie, immediately regretting it, and thankful that they probably hadn’t heard, as they’d already left.
For many people in the MCU paper trails, piles of documents to be reviewed, lists to be analysed, were a chore. Not so for Cross. He liked nothing more than a list of phone calls, addresses, dates, tables of geographical sightings with cross-referenced timings. Patterns stood out to him very obviously and quickly. They were almost highlighted on the page in front of him. He also had a fantastic short-term memory/photographic recall, so repeated numbers, facts, quickly coalesced into patterns or sequences. These sequences and patterns, and the breaks therein, were often invaluable indicators on a case.
He had inordinate patience if he thought he was onto something. He would laboriously retrace and repeat actions he believed to have been made, for hours, to find out where the gap or flaw in that process was. Where the suspect had slipped up and inadvertently left him a clue. He also took a certain amount of pride in his efficiency and the speed with which he achieved results. He’d never admit it, but it was like a race, and in this particular instance he was not alone. The race was on to find Lenny’s identity. Mackenzie was working as fast as she could to beat him. She had something to prove. She was either going to crack the code or show him that there was no code to crack, before he discovered that for himself. She was frantically working her way through the lists, desperate for something she didn’t see earlier to leap off the page at her.
She was encouraged in this by the fact that Cross and Ottey had been called back to the interview room, thus giving her an advantage over him.
‘Do you remember following Lenny?’ asked Cross.
‘No comment,’ said Badger.
‘Do you remember continuing the argument after you left St Joseph’s?’
‘No comment.’
‘You’ve committed offences before haven’t you Badger?’
‘How is that relevant?’ interjected Soor.
‘You know very well how, but perhaps Badger here doesn’t. You see, Badger, every time someone is convicted of an offence their DNA goes onto the national DNA database. Which means your DNA is in the system,’ Cross said.
He looked at Badger but couldn’t work out whether he was thinking about the implications of what has just been said or whether he was still trying to navigate his way through the vague recollections of the events of the previous days. The soberer he got, do things become clearer or more confusing, Cross was wondering.
‘The victim was carrying a plastic bag which contained six tins of cider. Quite heavy. Could do quite some damage if swung at the side of someone’s head. Do you remember him hitting you?’ Cross asked.
‘No comment.’
‘You’ve had seventeen stitches in the side of your head. I’m pretty sure I’d remember being hit if it caused that much damage.’
Badger looked at his solicitor. ‘Maybe that’s why I can’t remember. The bang on my head.’
Cross looked at him. He was beginning to think that Badger really couldn’t remember what had happened and it was troubling him. He decided to move things on and see what he flushed out.
‘I think we should move things along a little faster, don’t you? So maybe this will help us achieve that. You should know we have blood on the carrier bag and skin under the nails of the victim. I’m fairly confident that when the analysis comes back...’ He looked at his watch. ‘... fairly soon, that the DNA therein will be a match for Mr Whitby here and it might well look better for him in court, if he remembered more about the events of that night, before we confirm them with evidence, and tells us that he was in fact in a fight with the victim the night he died.’
‘I’d like to talk to my client.’
‘Of course you would.’
This was part of the process for Cross, to gradually reveal what he had or might have. To build a narrative in the interview which, when revealed to the jury, helps convict. “The accused didn’t seem to remember that he knew this man. In fact he denied it no less than twenty-two times during the interviews. Until, that is, he was shown photographs of him having dinner with the deceased on no less than three occasions. It leads one to think what else he may be concealing.”
Cross had come to a dead end with the list of weddings and scleral lenses, a dead end that was within the prescribed parameters. He was convinced the answer to Lenny’s identity had to be in there somewhere. They were looking nationwide, so locality wasn’t an issue, but he needed to add a variable. He considered this for a moment and deduced that an increased date range was a last resort. What if the initials ‘HLC’ didn’t contain all components of the name they were looking for? He scanned the list for those exact initials mixed with maybe one or two others. Then he saw it. Unfortunately for her at the exact time Mackenzie leapt out of her seat.
‘Yes!’
‘What is it?’ asked Ottey.
‘Found him. Our victim. I’ve got him!’
She typed a name into her keypad at the same time as Cross did. He was surprised at what he saw.
‘That can’t be right,’ said Mackenzie.
Cross continued typing, looking into the name that had come up on his computer when there was a knock at the door. He looked up. Mackenzie was standing at the door with Ottey behind her.
‘Come in.’
‘I’ve found him,’ she announced with great satisfaction. ‘The problem was the name. His first name isn’t actually Leonard, it’s…’
‘William,’ interrupted Cross.
‘I see. Yes.’ She continued, a little deflated, in the sure knowledge that what she was about to tell him, would surprise him. ‘The really fascinating thing though is…’
‘He died seven years ago.’
Ottey sighed. ‘Well done Alice,’ she said.
‘Which is of course not possible. So let’s find out what happened to him seven years ago.’
‘On it,’ said the young woman now even more determined to show she was up to all of this and left.
‘You’re a nightmare. She found him.’
‘As had I.’
‘A little encouragement maybe? A small acknowledgement? Would that be so hard?’
She left. He thought for a moment. She obviously had a point - she always did in situations like this. He must rectify the situation with Mackenzie, when he had the time and had worked out the best strategy. At this point the DNA results appeared on his computer screen. Cross studied them and frowned. It was not looking good for his suspect.
Chapter 12
Lenny’s identity was a great step forward in the case, another line of enquiry to be pursued, which was to be welcomed. Cross had become more and more convinced that if Badger killed Lenny, he had no recollection of doing it, which of course didn’t mean he hadn’t done it. At this point Cross felt he needed to help Badger picture what had happened. Not push and pull him to try and ‘nail’ a confession which many detectives would, armed with the DNA evidence. So Cross continued patiently.
‘Did he hit you? Is that how you got that cut?’
‘Yeah, with the carrier bag.’
Badger had remembered this in the cell, to his great relief. He was just pleased to remember something from that night. Articulating it almost prompted him to think more clearly.
‘The cider. That’s what the argument was about. Not food. It was drink. Cider.
His cider. He said I’d tried to nick it.’
‘Had you?’
‘Must’ve done. That was it. He snatched it back and ran out - that’s why I went after him.’
‘And he hit you with the bag?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which would explain what your DNA is doing on it.’
‘Your DNA matches the blood on the carrier bag,’ Ottey said helpfully.
‘Right.’
‘And there were traces of your skin, from your neck presumably, under his fingernails.’
Badger suddenly looked frightened. He looked at his solicitor as if for help.
‘So I must’ve done it. Shit.’
‘Mr Whitby...’ the solicitor wasn’t happy with this semi-admission. But something about the way Badger had said it, the fact that he was so ready to believe it, pointed to something in his character which gave Cross cause to wonder. He was not as convinced by Badger’s guilt, despite what the solicitor may have been thinking and what hard evidence seemed to be pointing to.
‘How? How exactly did you kill him?’
‘Well I hit him. Hard.’
‘So hard in point of fact, that you broke his jaw.’
This information seemed to upset Badger. Such violence against the old man, what on earth had made him do that? Lenny had been nothing but friendly to him. Why would he have done that?
‘Really...? Then he fell. He must’ve cracked his head on something when he fell. I didn’t mean to... it was an accident.’
‘So you hit him, he fell and that killed him.’
‘Must’ve done.’
Cross had witnessed a lot of expressions of relief in this room. Smug relief on a suspect’s face when the police have to let them go because of a lack of evidence. Honest relief when released because the police no longer believe them to be implicated. Relief that was almost overwhelming when they finally let go and confessed, as if a weight was being lifted from their shoulders - the pressure of lying and concealing having been so much. But Badger’s relief looked different. It was like he was grasping at straws, as if the acceptance of some version of events, no matter what that was, was a comfort, a relief. Most detectives would get the formal confession at this point, which was what Ottey was about to do when Cross continued.
‘Was that it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why didn’t you take the cider?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you know he was dead?’
‘No. I told you. I had no idea he was dead till you told me.’
‘So why did you run?’
‘Did I?’
‘You had an argument with him on the night of the 27th. He then left and you ran after him.’
‘No comment.’
‘Which was the last time anyone saw Lenny alive.’
At this point Cross looked at Badger who immediately looked away. He didn’t want to hold Cross’ look, nor challenge it.
‘Can you remember following Lenny out of St Joseph’s?’ Cross asked.
‘No comment.’
Ottey had allowed Mackenzie to watch the interview in one of the monitor rooms. This wasn’t so much because she thought she’d learn something, which if she was bright she most certainly would, but by way of thanking her for her work on the initials and giving her a break. She tried to encourage where Cross failed to. So far, Mackenzie thought it was as dull as she imagined it would be with a hungover, homeless man. She hadn’t witnessed any of Cross’ legendary interview technique. She watched as Cross continued.
‘Well perhaps I can help you there. You see they have a CCTV camera over the entrance at St Joseph’s. Well that’s not unusual is it? I mean so many buildings do these days, don’t they? I discovered the other day that members of the public in Britain are captured on CCTV cameras an average of seventy times a day.’
That’s odd Mackenzie thought, she was sure Ottey told her that the CCTV wasn’t working. She diligently made a note to tell them Cross had slipped up.
‘I was surprised, I thought it might well be a lot more than that. But no, seventy. Mind you even at seventy, if you posit that the average Briton is up for sixteen hours out of twenty -four, on any given day and out of the house shall we say ten of those, that’s seven times an hour. Once every eight and a half minutes. Four hundred and ninety times a week.’ Cross stopped. It was as if he was considering what he had himself just said and was just as surprised by it as when he first discovered this statistic. The solicitor interrupted his chain of thought.
‘I’d like to talk to my client.’
‘I thought you might,’ Cross gathered up his file and left the room with Ottey. As they walked away down the corridor Mackenzie appeared from another office. She called after Ottey who stopped. Cross continued walking away.
‘DS Ottey, I thought there wasn’t any CCTV at the hostel.’
‘There wasn’t.’
‘But Cross just said there was.’
Cross had, of course, heard this and replied without stopping or turning round.
‘Not actually the case. I merely pointed out the fact that there was a CCTV camera over the front door, and expressed my surprise at how many times the average individual is caught on such cameras, daily, in the United Kingdom. I said nothing about the existence of any relevant footage, a question any competent solicitor would have asked, but sadly Badger hasn’t been furnished with such an individual.’ Mackenzie looked at Ottey who simply smiled and walked on.
Chapter 11
They had had just enough time to make themselves a cup of coffee when they were called back to the interview room. They sat and Cross placed the file six inches in front of him, making sure it was equidistant from the edges. When satisfied it was perfectly aligned, he looked up and asked Badger the same question he had asked before he left the room, as if it hadn’t been asked before.
‘Can you remember having an argument with Lenny on the night of the 27th of this month?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember what the argument was about?’
‘I’d stolen some food. He told me to give it back. That’s all it was.’
‘You’d argued with him before.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because sometimes he was really annoying. Always on my case.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was a nosey bugger.’
‘Why did you follow him?’
‘I didn’t. I just went out.’
‘Why would you leave a night shelter at eight o’clock at night?’
‘No comment.’
Cross stopped for a moment then decided to move on. He carefully took his list of questions, placed it in a lilac plastic folder and took another list out of a light yellow one. It was a single sheet. He placed it on the desk, considered the first question then looked up.
‘How did you get the cut on your head?’ he asked.
‘I fell.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘And the scratches?’
‘Look, I’ll tell you the truth.’
‘Thank you. That would be helpful,’ said Ottey. This was the first time she’d spoken. Cross took a breath. It had annoyed him, but he wouldn’t say anything in front of the suspect and also he had learnt from past experience that his reaction in these situations was often selfish and unwarranted – according to her. There were, after all, two of them conducting this interview and he should be mindful of that’ as well as grateful that, on the whole, she let him conduct the interviews as he saw fit and only interjected when she felt it necessary. Again, her words, but he was working with her and having thought about it, he could see that taking a back seat, as she invariably did, was a concession to him.
‘I can’t remember much. I was out of it. I only remember the argument. Then I don’t remember anything else. I swear to you. I don’t know what happened. I had an argument with Lenny and now he’s dead and I only know that because you’re telling me.’
Cross looked at him for a moment and what he saw was panic. Panic that he literally couldn’t remember what happened and his friend was dead.
‘It must be frightening. Really frightening,’ Cross said.
‘What?’
‘Being so drunk, being so inebriated that you have no recollection of what you did that night.’
Badger looked at the table. He started picking off bits of the polystyrene cup he was holding and dropping them on the floor.
‘You can’t remember. A man is dead. Your friend. You were seen arguing with him and then he was killed. This must be very frightening for you,’ Cross said.
Badger looked uncomfortable at the truth of this.
‘Did he hit you? Is that how you got that cut?’ Cross asked.
He decided the suspect needed some comfort. Some sort of explanation. Some way out.
‘You obviously weren’t in control - that could be a mitigating factor in court.’
Again Ottey interjected - she sensed a vulnerability in Badger.
‘Did you hit him?’ she asked.
‘I’d like a break. My head’s killing me.’
During interview breaks Cross would often observe the suspect in their cell. In this case Badger was just sitting on the bed staring at the floor.
‘You’d think he’d want to sleep,’ said Ottey.
‘No… he’s trying to remember. He’s trying to picture that night, but he can’t. I don’t think he actually can. That’s what’s frightening him. He’s beginning to wonder if he did actually do the unthinkable,’ Cross said.
But he had seen enough as well and walked back with Ottey to the open area. As they got there Mackenzie intercepted them.
‘So I’ve cross-referenced the list of weddings and the scleral patients. There’s no match,’ she said.
‘Shit,’ was all Ottey had to offer. This was their best chance of a lead. Cross thought for a minute.
‘It has to be there. You must’ve missed it,’ he said.
‘I’ve been over it a thousand times,’ said Mackenzie.
‘That seems highly unlikely given the time you’ve been on it. I’d like the list of all five hundred weddings and all the patients.’
‘I’ll have a look as well,’ said Ottey and before he could stop himself Cross said
‘That won’t be necessary.’
She glared at him. Ah, it had come out all wrong again. He attempted to backtrack.
‘In that you must be very busy and have other things to do,’ he said.
‘Two pairs of eyes are better than one,’ she replied with more than a hint of steel in her voice.
‘Indeed, it would be most useful.’
‘Three... pairs… actually’ said Mackenzie, immediately regretting it, and thankful that they probably hadn’t heard, as they’d already left.
For many people in the MCU paper trails, piles of documents to be reviewed, lists to be analysed, were a chore. Not so for Cross. He liked nothing more than a list of phone calls, addresses, dates, tables of geographical sightings with cross-referenced timings. Patterns stood out to him very obviously and quickly. They were almost highlighted on the page in front of him. He also had a fantastic short-term memory/photographic recall, so repeated numbers, facts, quickly coalesced into patterns or sequences. These sequences and patterns, and the breaks therein, were often invaluable indicators on a case.
He had inordinate patience if he thought he was onto something. He would laboriously retrace and repeat actions he believed to have been made, for hours, to find out where the gap or flaw in that process was. Where the suspect had slipped up and inadvertently left him a clue. He also took a certain amount of pride in his efficiency and the speed with which he achieved results. He’d never admit it, but it was like a race, and in this particular instance he was not alone. The race was on to find Lenny’s identity. Mackenzie was working as fast as she could to beat him. She had something to prove. She was either going to crack the code or show him that there was no code to crack, before he discovered that for himself. She was frantically working her way through the lists, desperate for something she didn’t see earlier to leap off the page at her.
She was encouraged in this by the fact that Cross and Ottey had been called back to the interview room, thus giving her an advantage over him.
‘Do you remember following Lenny?’ asked Cross.
‘No comment,’ said Badger.
‘Do you remember continuing the argument after you left St Joseph’s?’
‘No comment.’
‘You’ve committed offences before haven’t you Badger?’
‘How is that relevant?’ interjected Soor.
‘You know very well how, but perhaps Badger here doesn’t. You see, Badger, every time someone is convicted of an offence their DNA goes onto the national DNA database. Which means your DNA is in the system,’ Cross said.
He looked at Badger but couldn’t work out whether he was thinking about the implications of what has just been said or whether he was still trying to navigate his way through the vague recollections of the events of the previous days. The soberer he got, do things become clearer or more confusing, Cross was wondering.
‘The victim was carrying a plastic bag which contained six tins of cider. Quite heavy. Could do quite some damage if swung at the side of someone’s head. Do you remember him hitting you?’ Cross asked.
‘No comment.’
‘You’ve had seventeen stitches in the side of your head. I’m pretty sure I’d remember being hit if it caused that much damage.’
Badger looked at his solicitor. ‘Maybe that’s why I can’t remember. The bang on my head.’
Cross looked at him. He was beginning to think that Badger really couldn’t remember what had happened and it was troubling him. He decided to move things on and see what he flushed out.
‘I think we should move things along a little faster, don’t you? So maybe this will help us achieve that. You should know we have blood on the carrier bag and skin under the nails of the victim. I’m fairly confident that when the analysis comes back...’ He looked at his watch. ‘... fairly soon, that the DNA therein will be a match for Mr Whitby here and it might well look better for him in court, if he remembered more about the events of that night, before we confirm them with evidence, and tells us that he was in fact in a fight with the victim the night he died.’
‘I’d like to talk to my client.’
‘Of course you would.’
This was part of the process for Cross, to gradually reveal what he had or might have. To build a narrative in the interview which, when revealed to the jury, helps convict. “The accused didn’t seem to remember that he knew this man. In fact he denied it no less than twenty-two times during the interviews. Until, that is, he was shown photographs of him having dinner with the deceased on no less than three occasions. It leads one to think what else he may be concealing.”
Cross had come to a dead end with the list of weddings and scleral lenses, a dead end that was within the prescribed parameters. He was convinced the answer to Lenny’s identity had to be in there somewhere. They were looking nationwide, so locality wasn’t an issue, but he needed to add a variable. He considered this for a moment and deduced that an increased date range was a last resort. What if the initials ‘HLC’ didn’t contain all components of the name they were looking for? He scanned the list for those exact initials mixed with maybe one or two others. Then he saw it. Unfortunately for her at the exact time Mackenzie leapt out of her seat.
‘Yes!’
‘What is it?’ asked Ottey.
‘Found him. Our victim. I’ve got him!’
She typed a name into her keypad at the same time as Cross did. He was surprised at what he saw.
‘That can’t be right,’ said Mackenzie.
Cross continued typing, looking into the name that had come up on his computer when there was a knock at the door. He looked up. Mackenzie was standing at the door with Ottey behind her.
‘Come in.’
‘I’ve found him,’ she announced with great satisfaction. ‘The problem was the name. His first name isn’t actually Leonard, it’s…’
‘William,’ interrupted Cross.
‘I see. Yes.’ She continued, a little deflated, in the sure knowledge that what she was about to tell him, would surprise him. ‘The really fascinating thing though is…’
‘He died seven years ago.’
Ottey sighed. ‘Well done Alice,’ she said.
‘Which is of course not possible. So let’s find out what happened to him seven years ago.’
‘On it,’ said the young woman now even more determined to show she was up to all of this and left.
‘You’re a nightmare. She found him.’
‘As had I.’
‘A little encouragement maybe? A small acknowledgement? Would that be so hard?’
She left. He thought for a moment. She obviously had a point - she always did in situations like this. He must rectify the situation with Mackenzie, when he had the time and had worked out the best strategy. At this point the DNA results appeared on his computer screen. Cross studied them and frowned. It was not looking good for his suspect.
Chapter 12
Lenny’s identity was a great step forward in the case, another line of enquiry to be pursued, which was to be welcomed. Cross had become more and more convinced that if Badger killed Lenny, he had no recollection of doing it, which of course didn’t mean he hadn’t done it. At this point Cross felt he needed to help Badger picture what had happened. Not push and pull him to try and ‘nail’ a confession which many detectives would, armed with the DNA evidence. So Cross continued patiently.
‘Did he hit you? Is that how you got that cut?’
‘Yeah, with the carrier bag.’
Badger had remembered this in the cell, to his great relief. He was just pleased to remember something from that night. Articulating it almost prompted him to think more clearly.
‘The cider. That’s what the argument was about. Not food. It was drink. Cider.
His cider. He said I’d tried to nick it.’
‘Had you?’
‘Must’ve done. That was it. He snatched it back and ran out - that’s why I went after him.’
‘And he hit you with the bag?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which would explain what your DNA is doing on it.’
‘Your DNA matches the blood on the carrier bag,’ Ottey said helpfully.
‘Right.’
‘And there were traces of your skin, from your neck presumably, under his fingernails.’
Badger suddenly looked frightened. He looked at his solicitor as if for help.
‘So I must’ve done it. Shit.’
‘Mr Whitby...’ the solicitor wasn’t happy with this semi-admission. But something about the way Badger had said it, the fact that he was so ready to believe it, pointed to something in his character which gave Cross cause to wonder. He was not as convinced by Badger’s guilt, despite what the solicitor may have been thinking and what hard evidence seemed to be pointing to.
‘How? How exactly did you kill him?’
‘Well I hit him. Hard.’
‘So hard in point of fact, that you broke his jaw.’
This information seemed to upset Badger. Such violence against the old man, what on earth had made him do that? Lenny had been nothing but friendly to him. Why would he have done that?
‘Really...? Then he fell. He must’ve cracked his head on something when he fell. I didn’t mean to... it was an accident.’
‘So you hit him, he fell and that killed him.’
‘Must’ve done.’
Cross had witnessed a lot of expressions of relief in this room. Smug relief on a suspect’s face when the police have to let them go because of a lack of evidence. Honest relief when released because the police no longer believe them to be implicated. Relief that was almost overwhelming when they finally let go and confessed, as if a weight was being lifted from their shoulders - the pressure of lying and concealing having been so much. But Badger’s relief looked different. It was like he was grasping at straws, as if the acceptance of some version of events, no matter what that was, was a comfort, a relief. Most detectives would get the formal confession at this point, which was what Ottey was about to do when Cross continued.
‘Was that it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why didn’t you take the cider?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you know he was dead?’
‘No. I told you. I had no idea he was dead till you told me.’
‘So why did you run?’
‘Did I?’
