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‘I was just on my way,’ Lorraine said lamely.

‘Let’s move it. We’ve got them for twenty-four hours and time’s running out. You’d better have a fucking good reason for setting this scene up. I got my boss and their lawyer at me and I got the entire department wondering what the hell is goin’ on and they aren’t the only ones.’

Lorraine followed him down the stairs. She stepped into the back of the patrol car, he slammed the door, and got into the front.

‘They both said you were drunk.’

‘They poured a bottle of vodka down my throat, so I guess I was.’

‘You okay now?’

‘Just a bit shaky.’

‘You should have told me who you were going after, and more important why. You wanna fill me in before we get there?’

Lorraine took a deep breath. ‘I wasn’t sure, I knew Nula was possibly involved. What I didn’t know was that Lyall was too.’

Ed started the engine. ‘I’ve given them both a tough grilling and they stuck to their story. They were in Vegas to get married, or were gonna try for some kind of ceremony — they got preachers there that’d marry them. They also maintain they don’t know nothin’ about Holly’s or David Burrows’s murder and they know that Janklow’s admitted to killing them. They also said you were drunk when you visited them and that they told you if you needed them they’d fly back after they got hitched.’

There was silence for a moment. Then Bickerstaff asked bluntly, ‘How do you want to work this?’

Lorraine was desperate for a drink. She didn’t dare take out a cigarette as her hands were shaking so much. ‘Maybe talk to Lyall first, break him. I don’t think he killed anybody. He’s dominated by Nula, maybe even scared of her, so go for him first.’

Bickerstaff was uneasy. His brain ticked like the small hand on his watch as he tried to assimilate what she had just said.

‘It’s something to do with Mrs Thorburn’s jewellery,’ she added. ‘I need to look at the lists Janklow made out and I want to see the morgue shot of Didi — David Burrows.’

Lorraine followed Bickerstaff through the corridors, stopping off at his office. He asked for Lyall to be brought up from the cells and taken to a small interview room with a one-way glass. Lyall was nervous and asked repeatedly for his lawyer. He sat with his hands splayed out on the small bare table, his face set, his mouth a rigid line. Watched by Lorraine and Bickerstaff, he stared around the small windowless room and then looked directly at the one-way glass.

‘You want to go in?’ Bickerstaff asked.

Lorraine could feel the tension disappearing. ‘Just let him sweat a few more minutes. I’ll need a glass of water, some kind of official-looking file, good photographs of the dead women, lot of documents, pens, notepad — and keep his lawyer out for as long as you can.’

Bickerstaff glanced at his watch, constantly monitoring the time as it ticked away. Lorraine was calmly checking down Janklow’s list of jewellery. She felt positive. She looked through the glass partition at Lyall, watching his every move, the way he clenched and unclenched his hands, ran a finger round the inside of his collar and cleared his throat. They could hear him crossing and uncrossing his legs, his shoes scuffing the floor.

Ten minutes later Bickerstaff handed Lorraine the articles she had requested. She patted her pockets to make sure she had the cigarettes and lighter; she was no longer shaking but was feeling a buzz inside her. She was almost ready.

‘Get someone to take water and glasses in, but not to say a word, even if he asks a question.’

She watched an officer enter the room. They heard Lyall asking how long he was to be kept waiting but the officer didn’t even look at him. Lorraine nodded to Bickerstaff. ‘I’m ready.’

As she left the room, he murmured, ‘Good luck,’ but she didn’t turn back.

When Lorraine walked in, Lyall covered his surprise fast, turning away as she sat in the chair opposite. She paid him no attention but opened the dummy file and her notebook, carefully laid out her pens, cigarettes and lighter. Then she reached over to the jug and poured herself a glass of water.

Lyall cleared his throat again and tapped his foot. Bickerstaff waited.

Lorraine slowly got out the photographs of Holly and placed them in front of Lyall. ‘Please look at the photographs, Craig.’

He turned away.

‘She was only seventeen and she was beautiful, wasn’t she? Take a look at her pretty face.’

He glanced at the ten-by-six photograph. Then Lorraine pointed to the morgue shots, which showed the injuries that virtually obliterated her face, broken nose, eye-sockets filled with blood and the gaping mouth with the front teeth smashed.

‘Someone hammered her face, broke her skull, her nose, even her teeth. What kind of person do you think would do this? What kind of madness did this?’

Lyall wouldn’t look at the photographs but kept his eyes on the wall.

‘I keep on telling them that you couldn’t have done it but they won’t believe me, you know why? Because—’

‘I didn’t do that. I’m innocent.’ His voice was high-pitched, bordering on hysterical.

‘I know you are — of course you are — all you were involved in was blackmail. I know that but—’

‘Janklow did it, he admitted it — so why don’t you piss off and leave me alone? I want my lawyer here.’ He sounded less hesitant now, his voice lower.

‘Your lawyer will be here, Craig, but he’s just finalizing Nula’s release. She’s going, so I hope you’ve made arrangements for your share of any money you had, because she...’

Bickerstaff covered his face. She was really pushing it.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Lyall said sullenly.

‘Believe what? That she’s being released?’ Lorraine flicked through the dummy documents. ‘This is her statement. You can read it, if you like, but you won’t be released, Craig, because Nula has stated that you were involved in murdering this girl and David Burrows.’

Lyall sneered, ‘I know you’re lying.’

Lorraine pushed forward Didi’s photographs, the before and after shots. ‘Am I? That’s naïve of you, Craig. You know Nula killed Didi, even though she insists that you did it — that you drove her to the apartment, sat and drank tea, even offered her the banana bread. Didi lived on that banana bread of hers, didn’t she? Anyway, according to Nula, the three of you started to argue because Didi had kept a ring, one of Mrs Thorburn’s pieces. You’d all agreed to get rid of everything because the items could be traced, but Didi kept a ring. This one. Look at this picture, Craig — that is the ring, isn’t it? On the third finger of her right hand.’

Bickerstaff had no idea what Lorraine was talking about. What ring? Was it in the files? He turned to his back-up. ‘Get me the files down here, will you? And fast.’ He turned his attention back to the interview room.

Lyall’s fists were clenched so tight the knuckles stood out white. Lorraine placed in front of him the full-length mortuary shot of Didi in which she was wearing the ring.

‘Just nod if it is the ring, Craig. You don’t have to say anything. I’m only trying to help you, you must know that. I’m not even pressing charges about your part in trying to kill me.’

‘What are you?’ he snapped.

‘I’m a private investigator, not even attached to the station or the FBI, but because I was there in San Francisco they’re allowing me to talk to you. You both tried to kill me and you almost succeeded but what you didn’t know was that I was wired, so everything you said in that apartment has been recorded. That’s why you were both arrested in Las Vegas.’

He still didn’t believe a word.

‘Nula knew that she had to frame somebody to get herself released and that was you, Craig, because as soon as she saw me with the FBI agents she knew the game was up. She’s been talking since they brought her in. Look at these statements. Don’t you think it’s strange your lawyer isn’t here?’