Pompous dick. Mr Fairley would get on a whole lot better if he hadn’t been so up himself. ‘Shit,’ Janet said under her breath. ‘I hoped we’d killed it before he found out. Unless it’s something else? You’ll have to do it without me.’
‘Same as bloody usual,’ he snapped. And went. Leaving Janet wondering what on earth that was all about.
Rachel had done the plan and prep with Janet and that had gone well. If Her Maj was letting her have a crack at Raleigh, Rachel assumed that Marlene had not followed through and lodged an official complaint.
When Raleigh arrived and she went down to reception to meet him, Rachel felt a surge of animosity hot in her belly. Something she must hide well if she was to do this right. He was taller than she remembered and broad-shouldered. He wore navy chinos, a white shirt and a navy wool sweater. She could smell aftershave. Shiny and squeaky clean. She put on a big smile, shook his hand, thanked him for coming in, made an inane comment about the weather.
‘You released Sean,’ he said. ‘How come?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t discuss that with you,’ she said as she took him through to the interview room. He looked puzzled when he saw the set-up, the tape recorder, the video camera in the corner, Janet with her notepad.
‘Sorry if it looks a bit official,’ Rachel said, ‘but we record all witness interviews like this now. And there are a number of things I need to make you aware of – protocol.’
He shrugged, gave a smile. ‘OK.’
She went through them with him: the fact he was not a suspect (you so are, mate!) was free to leave and so on, free to consult with a solicitor.
Her instinct was to lean forward, arms braced on her knees to question him, but she remembered what Janet had told her about posture and settled back. Act as if you’re a market researcher (Rachel had grinned at that, though she hid it quickly) really interested in getting the answers, but not at all bothered what they are. Neutral.
Consciously Rachel relaxed her hands, balled like fists, and her feet. ‘Thanks very much for coming in, we do appreciate it. Please can you tell me first how you know Lisa Finn.’
‘I was her personal advisor, since she left Ryelands.’
‘What did that involve?’
He exhaled. ‘Whatever she needed, really – help with claiming benefits, managing her finances, career guidance, liaison with medical services. The aim is to make sure the young person makes a smooth transition from being looked after to being fully independent.’
Rachel nodded a couple of times as he spoke, to show she was paying attention. ‘How often did you meet with Lisa?’
‘Weekly at first, then just once a month.’
‘The last time we spoke you told me you hadn’t seen Lisa since November the twenty-fifth?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How was she then?’
‘Not too bad. I was a bit worried about her boyfriend, Sean – he was an obstacle to her addressing her drug dependency. That wasn’t anything new, though. We were aiming to get Lisa into rehab, but we weren’t making much progress. The family – her mother, Denise – wanted that to happen, but Sean was a complicating factor.’ He smiled ruefully. His teeth were even, startlingly white; bleached, Rachel imagined. Vain git.
‘And on November twenty-fifth,’ Rachel repeated the date, ‘did she mention any trouble, any threats of violence, harassment, arguments, anything of that nature?’
‘No, nothing. She had divulged in the past that she and Sean had a somewhat chaotic relationship, arguments would lead to violence, domestic abuse,’ he added, ‘but in November she didn’t mention anything about that.’
‘And you didn’t see Lisa after November twenty-fifth?’
‘No.’ He shuffled slightly, crossed his ankles.
‘Did you hear from her after that?’
‘No.’
‘Thank you.’ Rachel surprised herself with how genuine she sounded. Now she had to be careful. She and Janet had discussed the wording for this next question; it was vital that it didn’t make him defensive, set off any alarm bells. ‘We are building up a picture of Lisa’s movements last Monday and collating details on any callers to Fairland Avenue and even people passing through the estate. Were you in the neighbourhood at any time on Monday?’ She tried to keep her expression bland, as though she expected him to answer in the negative.
‘No, no.’ He waved away the suggestion. ‘Office all morning, then case conference at the town hall in the afternoon.’
Got you! Rachel’s pulse accelerated. ‘The office is in Newton Heath and then you were at Manchester Town Hall?’
‘Yes.’ He looked at his watch, uncrossed his ankles and put his hands on his knees, signalling he thought they were nearly through and he was ready to leave.
‘I think that’s everything.’ Rachel gave him a smile. ‘Is there anything you’d like to add your statement?’
‘No, that’s fine.’
‘Can I just ask you to wait here a moment?’
‘Yes.’ The slightest touch of uncertainty in his reply.
‘Thank you. Interview concluded at twelve twenty p.m.’
Rachel forced herself to move slowly until she got outside, Janet behind her. ‘Yes!’ Rachel said under her breath, fists raised in victory. ‘We’ve got him!’
‘It’s a beginning,’ Janet agreed.
‘It’s an arrest, that’s what it is.’ Rachel could feel the excitement thrumming in her veins. She was going to get the bastard, oh, yes!
Rachel went to see Gill, breathless when she got there, dying for a fag, too.
Gill turned away from the screen showing the video feed to the interview room and surveyed Rachel. Her face remained impassive for a moment and Rachel felt a wobble of doubt, then Gill grinned. ‘Nick him!’ she ordered.
Rachel couldn’t get there soon enough. Raleigh got to his feet as she came into the interview room. She dove straight in: ‘James Raleigh, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Lisa Finn. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence…’
The smile died on his lips. A glare of outrage replacing it, disbelief glittering in his eyes.
‘… if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence against you.’
‘This is some sort of joke,’ he blurted out.
‘Can you put your hands out.’ Rachel got out her cuffs, not yielding to the impulse to slam the cuffs on, pinching his wrists as she clamped them shut. ‘You will accompany me to the custody sergeant, who will explain your rights, then ask you to surrender your possessions. You will have the right to a solicitor and we can provide one for you if required. We will be making a search of your premises, so if you have the keys that will save the risk of any damage on entry.’
‘You can’t do this,’ he insisted.
‘Watch me,’ Rachel told him.
‘I didn’t kill Lisa,’ he said. ‘There must be some mistake. I want to speak to your superior officer,’ he stumbled over the words.
‘Senior,’ Rachel corrected him. ‘I’ll pass that request on. Don’t hold your breath.’
He huffed and puffed all the way to the custody suite. Rachel booked him in and waited, savouring the sight as the custody sergeant went through all the rigmarole, asking Raleigh to empty his pockets, phone, car keys, house keys, wallet and then getting him to sign a property slip for them. He had two phones, Rachel felt a nudge of excitement at that – she knew one would likely be kept for his dirty little assignations.
He was fingerprinted and the sergeant said they would now take a DNA swab.
‘No way,’ Raleigh said. ‘I don’t give my permission.’
‘We don’t need your permission,’ Rachel said. ‘You don’t cooperate, we can hold you down and rip hairs off your head. Need the say-so from a superintendent. Your call, pal. I’d rather we did it the hard way.’