‘No, I am not,’ Janklow snapped.
‘Are you a transvestite?’
‘No, I am not.’
‘Have you ever in the past been charged with any homosexual crime?’
‘No.’
Kophch reached out and touched Janklow’s arm. He was becoming agitated and he constantly licked his lips. Lorraine chewed her pen, willing Bickerstaff to push for more, but he remained composed, even apologetic, looking at Kophch and saying that he was sorry if some of the questions were distasteful to his client but he must understand they had to be asked.
Kophch leaned towards Bickerstaff, his voice low. ‘Mr Bickerstaff, please feel free to ask my client any question — that is what we are here for, to confirm my client’s innocence — but please let me remind you, he is here of his own free will.’
‘I am aware of that, Mr Kophch. The sooner we have completed all the questions, then the sooner your presence will no longer be necessary.’
Lorraine sighed. If anything, Bickerstaff seemed to be on Janklow’s side. She had never witnessed anyone taking so long, pussy-footing around. His methodical approach was driving her crazy. She asked Bean when Bickerstaff was going to up the ante. He made no reply but stared at the glass partition.
Bickerstaff presented Holly’s picture next and Janklow denied any knowledge of her. Then Bickerstaff gave him Didi’s photograph again.
‘I have already said I do not know this person.’
Bickerstaff pushed the photograph closer. ‘This person sometimes calls herself Didi.’
‘I don’t know her — whoever it is. I don’t know them.’
‘You have also denied knowing or meeting Art Mathews.’
‘I don’t know him. You’re repeating the same questions.’
Bickerstaff was beginning to step up the pressure, just a little. ‘Now, Mr Janklow, can we return to the dates and the alibis you have given. It seems convenient that both your brother and your mother are always your only alibi. You have no other witness to—’
Janklow’s voice rose as he interrupted. ‘It happens to be the truth.’
‘Mr Bickerstaff,’ Kophch intervened, ‘it is obvious that you are beginning to repeat yourself. If you have no further questions to ask my client, then perhaps we can close this interview.’
‘I’m afraid not, Mr Kophch, because your client has so far been unable to present to me any alibi for a number of these cases.’
‘But they took place some years ago. If we are given time we will attempt to present you with the whereabouts of my client on those specific dates.’
Kophch stood up but was ordered by Bickerstaff to remain seated. Lorraine clasped her hands tightly together. This was more like it.
‘Mr Janklow, you’ve stated that you are not homosexual.’
‘Yes.’
‘You are not a transvestite.’
‘No, I am not.’
‘Is your brother?’
‘No, that’s ridiculous.’
‘And you have never at any time in the past eight years been arrested on a homosexual-related incident.’
‘No, I have not.’
‘You have stated that on the night of Norman Hastings’s death you were not in Santa Monica, you were not—’
‘I was with my mother.’
‘Is this your mother, Mr Janklow?’
Bickerstaff placed one of the photographs Lorraine had removed from the Thorburn house before him. Janklow looked at his lawyer, then looked back at the photographs. He was visibly shocked. ‘Is this your mother, Mr Janklow?’
Kophch frowned and looked at the pictures. He seemed confused as Janklow sat tight-lipped with fury.
‘Is this a photograph of your mother, Mr Janklow?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.
Bickerstaff removed a picture of Mrs Thorburn and placed it on the table. ‘Do you notice any difference, Mr Janklow, between this photograph of Mrs Thorburn and the one I am now placing in front of you?’
The two photographs lay side by side, one of Mrs Thorburn, the other, everyone was certain, of Janklow himself.
He picked up the photographs and stared at them. ‘Where did you get these?’
‘Would your client please answer the question?’
Janklow was becoming agitated. Lorraine stood up. Bickerstaff should go for him now. What was he waiting for? Why didn’t he push Janklow now? Kophch requested a few moments alone with his client. As they were led out, Lorraine slapped the table. ‘I don’t believe this — I don’t believe it!’
The door opened; Bickerstaff walked in and asked quietly if she had anything to tell him.
‘You bet I have! It’s him and I would stand up in any court. In fact, if you want me to I’ll walk in there and confront him.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Bickerstaff said firmly, and left.
They waited over half an hour before Janklow and Kophch returned. Janklow was calm again. Kophch opened the interview this time.
‘My client and I would like to know how you came by these photographs.’
Bickerstaff kept his head down as if studying his papers. ‘I am afraid, Mr Kophch, I am unable to give that information to you. We feel we require to place your client under oath and that anything he subsequently says—’
‘If you have any charges related to my client, I want to hear them. If any relate to these murders, then we will not, at this interview, discuss or refer—’
Bickerstaff snapped, ‘You will not, Mr Kophch, tell me what I can or cannot do. I am more than aware of the law and I am now ready to charge your client with assault.’
‘What?’ Mr Kophch’s studied calm cracked. He had been unprepared for an assault charge.
Bickerstaff continued, ‘I wish formally to charge your client that he did, on the night of the seventeenth of April, assault a woman, whose identity I have every right at this stage of my inquiry not to disclose.’
‘You never at any time told me my client was suspected of an assault,’ Kophch interjected. ‘You have brought my client and myself here on false pretences.’
Bickerstaff and Kophch argued for more than ten minutes. Lorraine was becoming impressed with Bickerstaff, who had remained in control. Kophch was one of the most high-powered lawyers and knew every legal loophole but Bickerstaff was one jump ahead. He had wanted, from the outset, to force Janklow to talk on oath but without Lorraine’s verification of his identity he had not had sufficient evidence. Now he had, and at seven o’clock that evening Janklow was sworn in and read the charges of assault against him. As yet there was still not enough evidence to charge him with any of the murders. All were more than aware that when Kophch received Lorraine’s statements and was allowed access to the evidence against Janklow, they would be in trouble. But they had enough to hold him for another twenty-four hours.
At nine o’clock that evening, with only an hour’s break for a light supper, Janklow was brought back into the interview room. He and Kophch had spent the time alone in a cell.
Lorraine had sat in the incident room with Bickerstaff over sandwiches and coffee.
‘I think you should put more pressure on his homosexual activities.’
‘The blackmail’s a strong murder motive and if he and Hastings ever discussed the blackmail—’
Lorraine leaned close, excited. ‘Of course he was being blackmailed. What about all the missing jewellery belonging to Mrs Thorburn? We don’t know if it was sold with her permision but it’s a good area to get Janklow to talk about — even more so as Mrs Thorburn is his only alibi for the night I was attacked.’ Bickerstaff wiped a crumb from his lips with his paper napkin. ‘Is anyone talking to her?’ Lorraine asked.
Bickerstaff was getting irritated, but he listened — he felt obliged to. ‘Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Lorraine, I’m quite capable of interrogating a suspect.’ He finally asked her if she felt that Janklow was the killer.