quick smile at Luke, disarming, friendly. ‘He might have seen something that could help us. He could be a vital witness.’
Smart answer, thought Sam. Egan looked angry, like he had lost some ground.
‘Hello,’ said Sam to Laura. ‘Have we met?’ He asked because he knew it would annoy Egan.
Laura was trying to look stern as they exchanged details. Sam caught an accent, south of England.
‘I’ve spoken with my client and he has nothing to say.’
‘Except when it comes out of your mouth,’ said Egan, looking at Luke. ‘So why is he here, in his best suit?’
‘Because if he hadn’t come, you would have hauled him out of bed in his pyjamas, probably with a photographer on your tail, just to get your perma-tan on TV.’
Laura looked down, smirking.
‘Look, Inspector,’ Sam continued, trying to sound reasonable, ‘Mr King has nothing he wants to say to you. If you want to make him, you have to depose him at court. But for that you need to charge someone else, so if you want to hear what he has to say, either arrest him or someone else.’
Sam turned around and took hold of Luke’s arm to escort him out of the station. He tried to move quickly, but Egan was quicker, moving fast, gripping Luke’s other arm.
‘Luke King, I am arresting you for murder.’
Sam was shocked. He could tell from the look in Laura McGanity’s eyes that she was too. That was good. It meant that Egan had acted off the cuff. It meant that there wasn’t any evidence against King yet. The custody clock would tick away, and it would put pressure on the police. This was a high-profile arrest, and Dermot Egan had made it without any evidence.
If they had done nothing, Egan could have watched Luke at leisure, covertly. Now he had shown his hand, moved too quickly.
Luke looked the calmest of all of them, almost serene.
Sam stood to one side as Egan cautioned Luke, giving him the usual ‘right to remain silent’ bull. You can say nothing, but if you do, the prosecution will use it against you. Didn’t seem like much of a right to Sam.
As Luke was led away, Sam looked down at his hands. Killer’s hands. Then he looked at Luke’s face.
Luke was smiling.
I moved away from the door of the police station. Laura had kept her back to me, but I could tell that Luke King had been arrested.
And I knew that Laura was dealing with the murder investigation. I smiled to myself. Now that Jimmy King’s son had been arrested, the story had just got better.
As I walked back towards the court, I saw Terry McKay again. He was sitting on the court steps, receiving a green bottle from one of the others swaying near him. He barely looked up as I stood over him.
‘Where does King live?’ I asked.
His eyes focused on me slowly. He shut one eye as if the sun had blinded him, but it was almost certainly the sherry that had made his pupils sluggish.
‘Who wants to know?’
I grinned at him. ‘I do.’
He looked me up and down, and then laughed to himself. His friends stepped back and looked at me strangely, as if I was from another world. And I suppose I was in a way. They lived their lives in a haze as they stumbled from one bottle to the next, never really taking part in society. They regarded me as an intruder, a reminder of the life they had stopped living when the drink took full hold.
He waved me away and lifted the bottle to his mouth.
I thought our dialogue had ended, and I had turnedto walk away, when he slurred at me, ‘Some big fucking house past Whitwell. On the road to fucking nowhere.’
I reached into my pocket and floated a twenty down. I had a sense that we might speak again, so it seemed like dialogue in the bank.
‘Get drunk on some decent stuff,’ I said. ‘No more of that shit.’
Terry didn’t look at me. Neither did any of his friends. They were looking at the note, and it was as if all they could see was their next bottle floating towards the pavement.
Chapter Twelve
‘How did Egan handle the
Smart answer, thought Sam. Egan looked angry, like he had lost some ground.
‘Hello,’ said Sam to Laura. ‘Have we met?’ He asked because he knew it would annoy Egan.
Laura was trying to look stern as they exchanged details. Sam caught an accent, south of England.
‘I’ve spoken with my client and he has nothing to say.’
‘Except when it comes out of your mouth,’ said Egan, looking at Luke. ‘So why is he here, in his best suit?’
‘Because if he hadn’t come, you would have hauled him out of bed in his pyjamas, probably with a photographer on your tail, just to get your perma-tan on TV.’
Laura looked down, smirking.
‘Look, Inspector,’ Sam continued, trying to sound reasonable, ‘Mr King has nothing he wants to say to you. If you want to make him, you have to depose him at court. But for that you need to charge someone else, so if you want to hear what he has to say, either arrest him or someone else.’
Sam turned around and took hold of Luke’s arm to escort him out of the station. He tried to move quickly, but Egan was quicker, moving fast, gripping Luke’s other arm.
‘Luke King, I am arresting you for murder.’
Sam was shocked. He could tell from the look in Laura McGanity’s eyes that she was too. That was good. It meant that Egan had acted off the cuff. It meant that there wasn’t any evidence against King yet. The custody clock would tick away, and it would put pressure on the police. This was a high-profile arrest, and Dermot Egan had made it without any evidence.
If they had done nothing, Egan could have watched Luke at leisure, covertly. Now he had shown his hand, moved too quickly.
Luke looked the calmest of all of them, almost serene.
Sam stood to one side as Egan cautioned Luke, giving him the usual ‘right to remain silent’ bull. You can say nothing, but if you do, the prosecution will use it against you. Didn’t seem like much of a right to Sam.
As Luke was led away, Sam looked down at his hands. Killer’s hands. Then he looked at Luke’s face.
Luke was smiling.
I moved away from the door of the police station. Laura had kept her back to me, but I could tell that Luke King had been arrested.
And I knew that Laura was dealing with the murder investigation. I smiled to myself. Now that Jimmy King’s son had been arrested, the story had just got better.
As I walked back towards the court, I saw Terry McKay again. He was sitting on the court steps, receiving a green bottle from one of the others swaying near him. He barely looked up as I stood over him.
‘Where does King live?’ I asked.
His eyes focused on me slowly. He shut one eye as if the sun had blinded him, but it was almost certainly the sherry that had made his pupils sluggish.
‘Who wants to know?’
I grinned at him. ‘I do.’
He looked me up and down, and then laughed to himself. His friends stepped back and looked at me strangely, as if I was from another world. And I suppose I was in a way. They lived their lives in a haze as they stumbled from one bottle to the next, never really taking part in society. They regarded me as an intruder, a reminder of the life they had stopped living when the drink took full hold.
He waved me away and lifted the bottle to his mouth.
I thought our dialogue had ended, and I had turnedto walk away, when he slurred at me, ‘Some big fucking house past Whitwell. On the road to fucking nowhere.’
I reached into my pocket and floated a twenty down. I had a sense that we might speak again, so it seemed like dialogue in the bank.
‘Get drunk on some decent stuff,’ I said. ‘No more of that shit.’
Terry didn’t look at me. Neither did any of his friends. They were looking at the note, and it was as if all they could see was their next bottle floating towards the pavement.
Chapter Twelve
‘How did Egan handle the
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