Chapter 30
They’d taken Fenton to Birkenhead Custody Suite to ensure there were no opportunities for him and McAvoy to get their heads together. As expected the Custody Officer had bedded him down for the night.
Later that morning, Degsy and Spud interviewed him and Fenton’s only comments had been to say “No comment” to every question. His brief read a prepared statement in which Mickey admitted Brannan had carried out some accountancy work for him on an ad hoc basis, following a friend’s recommendation, and he’d been entirely satisfied with the work done. On the evening in question, his wife had gone to her mother’s so he and a friend had drunk some beers and watched several DVDs until his friend left to walk home, around 2 am. As he recalled the films were ‘Zulu’, ‘Get Carter’ and ‘Catch Me If You Can’. His friend, who he would be pleased to name later, was currently out of the country on holiday. He was unsure when he would be returning. He had no idea how a nail clipping, alleged to provide his DNA, could have been found on the victim.
Now, they were gathered in an office, outside the custody suite.
“Outwardly, he’s cocky, Boss. Seems quite confident, but I caught a fleeting moment of uncertainty when the DNA evidence came up.” Spud accepted the cheese and ham sandwich from a young bobby. “Do I owe you any more?” He shook his head, smiled and left.
Thurstan sighed. “Well, it’s something. At least we’re getting to him.”
The Foetus walked in with a tray of drinks. “I couldn’t remember who took what sugars so you’ll have to do your own.” He placed it down on the table. “I’ve just spoken to Arthur, Boss. He tells me that Ikky and Sando have recovered some gear from McAvoy’s bird’s place. She confirms they’re his. Some gloves and a couple of pairs of boots are amongst them. One pair of the boots look quite promising on an eyeball inspection against the prints from the roof of the barge, so they’re on their way to Forensics. Arthur authorised a fast track on your behalf.” He grinned.
Thurstan rolled his eyes. “Well, needs must. If we get a result, the Chief’ll swallow the cost.”
He sipped from a chipped mug, grimaced and handed it to Degsy. “Stick two sugars in that will you Derek?” He sat on a table and leaned against the wall, accepting the mug back. “Have we any idea who his mate is yet?” he enquired.
They shook their heads. Spud wiped her hands on a tissue. “Thing is, he’s been put on a period of food, drink and rest, at the moment, and his brief has taken the opportunity to do one. Apparently, they have to eat as well, Boss.”
“So, that’s the cat out of the bag. He can call anyone he wants now or am I being too cynical?”
A tap on the door. It was a custody assistant. “Which one of you is DCI Baddeley?”
Thurstan raised his hand.
“Your prisoner, Fenton, wants to have a word with you. He says just you, no one else, not even his brief.”
He entered the interview room, nodded to the custody assistant who nodded back and left. Mickey Fenton was examining his fingernails.
As the DCI sat down, Fenton said, “Don’t even think about turning that thing on.” He pointed at the recording machine.
“I’d have been surprised if you’d wanted me to, Mickey.”
Fenton sat back, a slight smile playing across his face. “I have to say, I expected more from you, Thurstan. I never thought you’d be cooking up evidence against me.”
“You can’t argue with DNA, Mickey.”
“I fucking will. Are you being fucking serious? Seriously serious?”
“Mickey, we’re very serious. One of your nail clippings was found. It’s been tested. It’s definitely yours.”
He shook his head. “And what’s this about Darius McAvoy? Do you honestly think I’d trust him to do anything like this? He’s a fucking idiot. Granted, when you catch him with his mates they make him look like a dangerous intellectual, but give me some credit. If, and I said if, I ever did anything like this then one, I wouldn’t let Darius McAvoy near it, two, I wouldn’t be there myself and three, you’d never and I mean never find the fucking body!” He sat forward, rubbed his hands up and down his face then sat back again with a sigh.
“Ok, Brannan was ripping me off. You’ll never find where from. I’m surprised he found it. I trusted him. It pissed me off, good style, but that’s all that happened.”
“What about Sharon?”
They sat and watched each other in silence. Mickey broke the spell. He leaned forward and said quietly, “You know. You fucking know.” He slowly shook his head repeatedly then sighed again. “Ok, yeah. He was shagging the wife as well. Now, in theory, I could have been intending to sort him out. Hypothetically speaking, plans might have been in the making. But, realistically speaking, nothing happened. Someone else did this, Thurstan. Not me, despite what it looks like. That’s all I want to say. I’ve got to go and have me dinner now.”
“What’s your mate’s name, Mickey?”
“You’ll have to speak to me brief, Thurstan. This conversation never happened. For the record, we were just talking over old times. I was lonely.” He grinned.
Thurstan escorted him back to the custody desk. As they waited, he leaned in towards Mickey and whispered, “Don’t have the Lancashire hotpot. It’s not very popular with reason. I always found the chicken korma was quite nice.”