Michelle laughed. “Is that the best you can do?”
“His word against mine.”
“Where were you?”
“Matter of fact, I was having a bevy or two in the Pig and Whistle.”
“Anyone see you?”
“Lots of people. It was very busy.”
“That’s not far away from where the attack took place,” said Michelle. “What time did you leave?”
“Dunno. After closing time.”
“Sure you didn’t sneak out a few minutes early and then go back for last orders?”
“And waste good drinking time? Why would I do that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“Not me, miss.”
“Show me your hands, Des.”
Wayman stretched his hands out, palms up.
“Turn them over.”
Wayman did as she asked.
“Where’d you get that skinned knuckle?”
“I don’t know,” said Wayman. “Must have brushed it against the wall or something.”
“And that ring you’ve got,” Michelle went on. “Sharp, I’ll bet. Sharp enough to cut someone. I bet there’ll still be traces of blood on the metal,” she said. “Enough to identify as your victim’s.”
Wayman lit a cigarette and fell silent. Even with the window open the air soon became thick with smoke. “Right,” said Michelle, “I’m sick of pissing about. DC Collins, let’s take Mr. Wayman down the station and organize an identity parade. That should settle things once and for all.”
Collins moved forward.
“Just a minute,” said Wayman. “I’m not going to no station. I’ve got an appointment. People are expecting me.”
“In your local. I know. But if you want to enjoy a nice pint this lunchtime, or any lunchtime for the next little while, you’d better tell us what we want to know.”
“But I’ve already told you. I didn’t do anything.”
“And I’ve told you. You were identified. Stop lying, Des. Do yourself a favor. Think about that nice, thirst-quenching pint sitting there on the bar at the Lord Nelson, just waiting for you.” Michelle paused to let the image sink in. She could do with a pint, herself, even though she rarely drank beer. The air was fast becoming unbreathable, and she didn’t know if she could stand it much longer. She had one last card to play before she would have to take Wayman in. “Trouble is, Des,” she said, “the man you attacked, the man who recognized you…”
“Yeah? What about him?”
“He’s a copper. He’s one of us.”
“Come off it. You’re trying it on. Trying to set me up.”
“No. It’s true. What was it you said earlier? His word against yours? Whose word do you think the judge is going to believe, Des?”
“Nobody told me-”
“Told you what?”
“Shut up. I’ve got to think.”
“You’ve not got long. Assaulting a police officer. That’s a serious charge. You’ll go down for a lot longer than nine months on that one.”
Wayman dropped his cigarette stub in the empty beer can, tossed it on the floor and opened another one. His fleshy lips were wet with foam and beer. He reached for another cigarette.
“Please don’t light another one of those, Des,” Michelle said.
“What do you mean? Surely it’s not got so bad a bloke can’t even smoke in his own house these days?”
“When we’re gone you can smoke yourself silly,” said Michelle. “That’s if we leave without you. Up to you. There’s no smoking in the holding cells anymore.”
Wayman laughed. “You know,” he said, puffing out his chest, “I’m practically one of you lot myself. I don’t know where you get off coming and pinning this assault on me when it’s police business to start with.”
Michelle felt a little shiver up her spine. “What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” Wayman touched the side of his pug nose. “I told you, I was on police business. Undercover. Sometimes a little tap on the head and a few words of warning work wonders. It’s the way they used to do things in the old days, so I hear. And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. Your boss certainly does.”
“Boss?”
“Yes. The big ugly bloke. Numero uno. Detective bloody Superintendent Ben Shaw.”
“Shaw?” Michelle had been more than half-suspecting that Shaw was behind the attacks on her and Banks, but found herself stunned to have it confirmed.
Wayman tilted the can and took a long swig, then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned. “Don’t look so surprised, love.”
“Superintendent Shaw told you to do this? Wait a minute. Are you telling me you’re an undercover police officer following Detective Superintendent Shaw’s orders?”
Wayman shrugged, perhaps sensing he’d gone too far. “Well, maybe I’m not exactly what you’d call an undercover officer, but I’ve done your boss a little favor from time to time. You know, like giving him the nod where the stuff from the Curry’s warehouse job was stashed. That sort of thing.”
“So you’re Shaw’s snitch?”
“I’ve been happy to help out now and then. He’ll see me all right. So do us a favor and bugger off, then just maybe I won’t tell your boss you’ve been round upsetting me.”
“Do you own a beige van?” Michelle asked.
“What? I don’t own a van at all. Dark blue Corsa, if you must know.”
“Ever done time for burglary?”
“You’ve read my form. Did you notice anything about burglary?”
Michelle hadn’t. So Wayman most likely wasn’t responsible for the damage to her flat and the attempt on her life. Somehow, she sensed he didn’t have the subtlety to do what had been done with the dress, even if his employer had told him about Melissa. He clearly wasn’t the only villain on Shaw’s payroll. Michelle sensed DC Collins paying rapt attention beside her. She glanced at him and he raised his eyebrows. “Look,” she said, wishing she could sit down. Her shoes were killing her. But it wasn’t worth catching something. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Des. GBH is bad enough in itself, but against a copper, well… you don’t need me to tell you…”
For the first time, Wayman looked worried. “But I didn’t know he was a copper, did I? Do you think I’d have done something like that if I’d known who he was? You must think I’m crazy.”
“But you did it, didn’t you?”
“Where’s this going?”
“Up to you, Des.”
“What do you mean?”
Michelle spread her hands. “I mean it’s up to you where it goes from here. It could go to the station, to the lawyers, to court eventually. Or it could end here.”
Wayman swallowed. “End? How? I mean… I don’t…”
“Do I have to spell it out?”
“You promise?”
“Only if you tell me what I want to know.”
“It goes no further?”
Michelle looked at DC Collins, who looked lost. “No,” she said. “This bloke you and your friend assaulted last night, what did Shaw tell you about him?”
“That he was a small-time villain from up north looking to get himself established on our patch.”
“And what did Detective Superintendent Shaw ask you to do?”
“Nip it in the bud.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Shaw didn’t want to know. I mean, he’d just asked me to handle the situation, do something about it. He didn’t tell me how, and he didn’t want to know.”
“But it usually meant violence?”
“Most people understand a thump on the nose.”
“That’s your understanding of the situation?”
“If you like.”
“So that’s what you did?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out he was in town?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye out. I recognized his car from when he was down here last week.”
“And how did you know where he was that evening?”