just art,’ he mutters to himself.
‘And if we took away your computer, Mr Robb, would we find more art?’
A look of horror passes over Darren Robb’s face, and McAvoy takes a step towards him, using his size to put the fat man almost into shadow.
‘You’ve been stalking your ex, Mr Robb. You’ve been following her on Facebook with a fake alias. You’ve been making a nuisance of yourself. You’ve made threats about a woman who is now dead.’
Robb’s lower lip trembles. He seems to be about to cry.
‘Where were you last night?’ asks Pharaoh from the sofa.
‘I was here,’ he says.
‘Doing what?’
‘I was on the computer. I’m often on the computer.’
‘Doing what?’
Slowly, like a bouncy castle deflating, Darren Robb sinks to his knees. ‘Same as fucking always,’ he says, between sobs. ‘Reading her emails. Reading her messages.’
‘You hack her emails?’
‘Elaine’s. Don’s. Philippa’s. I just want to stay close to them. They were my family too. It was just a misunderstanding.’
‘You can show us your search history, then. You can show us that you were here all night, I presume.’
‘I stopped about 2 a.m. Then I went to bed.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course alone.’
Pharaoh turns to her sergeant. ‘We don’t know what time she was killed yet. Not for certain.’
‘If he’s good enough with computers he could do his Internet browsing remotely and make it look like he was on his home terminal. But if he did that on his mobile, we can pinpoint the location from the signal. Will be easier once the forensics people have had their fun.’
‘Aye, if he was there we’ll probably have found a crisp packet in the vicinity.’
Robb looks at each of them in turn, as if they are passing his fate between them like a tennis ball.
‘I can’t drive,’ he blurts out, as if the admission is the most important thought he has ever had. ‘I haven’t got a car. I don’t have a licence. I work from home. How the hell would I even get there?’
Pharaoh lets the annoyance show in her face. ‘You can’t drive? How did you bother Elaine then? See her at work? At the kids’ school?’
‘I took cabs. Buses. I’ve only moved back to Hornsea the past few weeks. I kept this place on when Elaine and me moved in together. I don’t go anywhere. I couldn’t.’
Pharaoh looks at the fat man on the floor. ‘Pathetic,’ she says, and her sneer is an ugly, powerful thing.
McAvoy has been running his tongue around his mouth for the past few moments, his thoughts sliding into one another like coins inside a slot machine. ‘The emails,’ he says, at length. ‘You’ve been reading them for a while?’
Robb nods, seemingly unsure whether to stay on his knees or get up.
‘Did Philippa ever receive any threats of any kind? And I advise you to think carefully about this, because at the moment, we’re staring very hard at you for the murder of Philippa Longman.’
Robb screws up his eyes, like a child pretending to concentrate. ‘Philippa’s emails were just council stuff. Vouchers. Special offers. Sometimes she’d get pictures from friends. I used to search under my name in her correspondence and there wasn’t a thing. They’d just moved on. Cut me out like I was something disgusting.’
‘And Elaine?’
‘She mentioned me sometimes. After I’d been to see her, or sent her a letter or texted her or whatever, she’d message a friend about me. She never sounded cross with me, just sorry for me.’
‘But you were cross with her. With Philippa too.’
‘I said things I shouldn’t have. I was just trying to shock her into listening.’
‘You said you would cut out her mum’s heart.’
Robb shifts his position, moving the fat around. ‘I’ve never hurt anybody in my life.’
Pharaoh clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She seems to be weighing things up.
‘Hector?’
McAvoy looks at the morbidly obese specimen before him. He sees something pitiful, but he
‘And if we took away your computer, Mr Robb, would we find more art?’
A look of horror passes over Darren Robb’s face, and McAvoy takes a step towards him, using his size to put the fat man almost into shadow.
‘You’ve been stalking your ex, Mr Robb. You’ve been following her on Facebook with a fake alias. You’ve been making a nuisance of yourself. You’ve made threats about a woman who is now dead.’
Robb’s lower lip trembles. He seems to be about to cry.
‘Where were you last night?’ asks Pharaoh from the sofa.
‘I was here,’ he says.
‘Doing what?’
‘I was on the computer. I’m often on the computer.’
‘Doing what?’
Slowly, like a bouncy castle deflating, Darren Robb sinks to his knees. ‘Same as fucking always,’ he says, between sobs. ‘Reading her emails. Reading her messages.’
‘You hack her emails?’
‘Elaine’s. Don’s. Philippa’s. I just want to stay close to them. They were my family too. It was just a misunderstanding.’
‘You can show us your search history, then. You can show us that you were here all night, I presume.’
‘I stopped about 2 a.m. Then I went to bed.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course alone.’
Pharaoh turns to her sergeant. ‘We don’t know what time she was killed yet. Not for certain.’
‘If he’s good enough with computers he could do his Internet browsing remotely and make it look like he was on his home terminal. But if he did that on his mobile, we can pinpoint the location from the signal. Will be easier once the forensics people have had their fun.’
‘Aye, if he was there we’ll probably have found a crisp packet in the vicinity.’
Robb looks at each of them in turn, as if they are passing his fate between them like a tennis ball.
‘I can’t drive,’ he blurts out, as if the admission is the most important thought he has ever had. ‘I haven’t got a car. I don’t have a licence. I work from home. How the hell would I even get there?’
Pharaoh lets the annoyance show in her face. ‘You can’t drive? How did you bother Elaine then? See her at work? At the kids’ school?’
‘I took cabs. Buses. I’ve only moved back to Hornsea the past few weeks. I kept this place on when Elaine and me moved in together. I don’t go anywhere. I couldn’t.’
Pharaoh looks at the fat man on the floor. ‘Pathetic,’ she says, and her sneer is an ugly, powerful thing.
McAvoy has been running his tongue around his mouth for the past few moments, his thoughts sliding into one another like coins inside a slot machine. ‘The emails,’ he says, at length. ‘You’ve been reading them for a while?’
Robb nods, seemingly unsure whether to stay on his knees or get up.
‘Did Philippa ever receive any threats of any kind? And I advise you to think carefully about this, because at the moment, we’re staring very hard at you for the murder of Philippa Longman.’
Robb screws up his eyes, like a child pretending to concentrate. ‘Philippa’s emails were just council stuff. Vouchers. Special offers. Sometimes she’d get pictures from friends. I used to search under my name in her correspondence and there wasn’t a thing. They’d just moved on. Cut me out like I was something disgusting.’
‘And Elaine?’
‘She mentioned me sometimes. After I’d been to see her, or sent her a letter or texted her or whatever, she’d message a friend about me. She never sounded cross with me, just sorry for me.’
‘But you were cross with her. With Philippa too.’
‘I said things I shouldn’t have. I was just trying to shock her into listening.’
‘You said you would cut out her mum’s heart.’
Robb shifts his position, moving the fat around. ‘I’ve never hurt anybody in my life.’
Pharaoh clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She seems to be weighing things up.
‘Hector?’
McAvoy looks at the morbidly obese specimen before him. He sees something pitiful, but he
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