Horton gave a cursory search of the bathroom — not much there. Then he entered the living room at the end of the corridor, while Cantelli took the kitchen and bedroom. From the living room Horton could see Morville's flat in Corton Court. He hadn't forgotten him.
He gazed around the room. It was comfortably furnished, though a little overcrowded, with a three-piece suite, a small computer desk in front of the window and a large TV and DVD. On the desk was a computer and beside it some bills from the club and a box file containing invoices and receipts. Horton had a quick flick through but there was nothing of interest. He opened some drawers and found a bank statement; it was a couple of months old and Dunsley was overdrawn. Horton knew that what they were doing here was irregular, and Dunsley could complain, but he wasn't concerned about that. Let the man bleat.
Horton joined Cantelli in Dunsley's bedroom. 'Anything?'
Cantelli shook his head. Horton heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Dunsley appeared.
'What the hell are you doing here?' he exploded.
Horton unfazed, said, 'We'd like to ask you some questions, Mr Dunsley. At the station.'
'Why? I haven't done anything.' Suddenly Dunsley was on the defensive. Horton saw the faint telltale flush of nervousness on Dunsley's neck.
'For a start there's wasting police time by reporting a phoney break-in, not to mention attempting to fraud the insurers.'
Dunsley licked his lips and gave a hesitant smile. 'It was a joke.'
'You have a peculiar sense of humour, Mr Dunsley. Shall we discuss it down at the station?'
Horton gave an ushering movement, as Cantelli eased himself behind Dunsley.
Dunsley said, 'You can't really be taking me in just for that!'
'Shall we go?' Horton didn't leave Dunsley much choice.
The stairs were narrow but Cantelli still managed to squeeze himself beside Dunsley, and put a restraining arm on the steward. Horton brought up the rear.
'It's only a small matter of theft. The insurance company can afford it,' Dunsley said tetchily, after climbing into Cantelli's car. Horton got in beside him.
So Dunsley was going to bluff it out. Or rather he was going to admit to the lesser crime of theft in the hope they'd not discover he was a murderer.
At the station, Cantelli took Dunsley to an interview room, while Horton checked in with Sergeant Trueman.
'Did you get Cyrus?'
'He's in interview room three. Claims he hasn't done anything.'
'Don't they all? We'll let him stew for a while. Let's see what his mate comes up with first.'
Horton ran through the preliminaries with Dunsley. When he had finished Dunsley said, 'OK, so you've charged me and I admit faking the break-in. I'll make my statement and then can I go?'
Horton left a silence that was just beginning to get uncomfortable when he spoke. 'Where were you between nine and midnight on Thursday night?' He looked up from the file he had been studying to see Dunsley's wary expression.
'In the bar working and then in my flat.'
'We have a witness who says you were out all evening.'
'Who?' Dunsley declared cockily but Horton could smell a worried man.
'Do you want me to repeat the question?' he asked in an icy tone.
Dunsley pursued his lips together.
After a moment Horton continued, 'I think you were with Neil Cyrus at the Sir Wilberforce Cutler School, helping yourself to building material.'
Dunsley's eyes flickered minutely from side to side. His lips twitched but remained firmly shut. Horton went on in the same even tone, 'Did Jessica Langley discover you stealing and that's why you killed her?'
'What?' Dunsley was suddenly alert. He shot out of his seat.
Cantelli said, 'Sit down, Mr Dunsley.'
'You must be mad.' Dunsley eyed each of them in turn. Silence greeted him. After a moment he sat. His body was twitching nervously and he'd begun to sweat.
Horton said, 'What else can we think unless you start telling the truth?'
'I didn't kill her.'
'I think you did, Barry. She returned to the school when you and Neil were stealing the building material. She threatened to call the police. You hit her. Or perhaps it wasn't you, perhaps it was Neil.'
'Neither of us killed her.' Dunsley looked as if he was about to burst into tears.
Horton could see it wouldn't take long now to crack him and get to the truth. He left a silence into which dropped the sounds of the station beyond the closed door: a ringing telephone, raised voices, running feet. As he hoped, Dunsley obviously couldn't bear it.
'I wasn't anywhere near that school. I swear it.'
Horton laughed scornfully and was pleased to see Dunsley flush. 'Oh, come on, you can do better than that. At this moment Neil is probably telling one of my officers how you engineered a break-in at the Sir Wilberforce, and how you struck Jessica Langley-'
'Neil's here?' Dunsley looked horrified. 'I didn't kill her. You have to believe me.'
'Convince me,' and Horton needed convincing. If Dunsley wasn't their killer then it had to be Cyrus.
Dunsley licked his lips. Hs eyes darted about the room. Horton waited. The ticking clock and the rain drumming against the darkened windows seemed abnormally loud to him. Cantelli sat casually back in his seat, yet Horton could sense his tension.
Finally Dunsley exhaled and said, 'OK, so I was with Neil at the Sir Wilberforce Cutler School on Thursday night. He's got this builder friend who doesn't much care where he gets his materials from.'
'And you supplied him. Is that when Langley returned to the school and saw you, so you had to kill her?'
'She never came anywhere near us. I swear it,' Dunsley cried in exasperation.
Horton contrived to look sceptical. Dunsley hurriedly continued. 'I met Neil at the school just after ten o'clock. We loaded the gear into Neil's van and delivered it to the builder.'
'Name?' barked Horton, making Dunsley start.
'Sam. I don't know his last name or his address. I'm telling the truth,' he appealed to Horton. 'He's Neil's contact. Ask him.'
'We will. Go on.'
'When we were unloading, I tripped and fell. I gashed my head on a bit of piping, there was blood everywhere so I had to leave Neil and drive to the hospital clutching my head with a bit of rag. I didn't get out of there until just after three in the morning.'
'Which was why you were in the accident and emergency unit between midnight and three fifteen a.m.' Horton consulted the paperwork in front of him. An officer had checked with the hospital and Dunsley had been booked in at 12.15 a.m. and had left at 3.20 a.m. And although the times could put Dunsley in the clear of dumping Langley's body on the mulberry, he could still have killed her and left Neil Cyrus to take her body to Langstone Harbour. He put this to Dunsley, who vehemently denied it.
Horton said, 'So, where were you between eight and ten p. m?'
'Having a drink in the Three Crowns. You can ask the landlord, he served me.'
They would, and Horton guessed there would be enough witnesses to confirm it. He studied Dunsley a moment longer and didn't much like what he saw: a weak, stupid and idle man who thought he was clever and above the law. Horton was sick of him and his type. He was also growing rather sick of this bloody case. This wasn't his killer after all and he doubted Cyrus was either. They were just a pair of stupid, greedy crooks. Horton felt frustration well up inside him, but he restrained it. It was just a matter of tying up the loose ends of the club break-in and the theft at the school, and he wanted it over with as quickly as possible so that he could get back to the real case in hand: Langley and Edney's murders.