‘So,’ asked Dana, ‘I stay focused on the Cassavette killing in interviews; don’t try to broaden it?’
‘Yeah, stay fixed on that.’
Mike went off to face the Cassavettes’ lawyer, Spencer Lynch, who was holed up in Interview Three. No doubt, thought Mike, stewing at being hauled in after Lucy’s intervention.
‘Following on from that, Dana,’ continued Bill, ‘are you finding Whittler convincing? I mean, if he’s survived in the wild like he says, it makes him resourceful and capable. Are you certain he’s channelled that into something legal?’
‘You still think he has a credibility gap? I’ve been asking myself that. It’s easy to get thrown by his body language, his reluctance. Put it this way, boss. Everything he’s admitted stacks up to what we know; everything he’s claimed, that we can verify, has come back a yes. But whatever is still inside his head remains a maybe. There’s a big something we haven’t unearthed yet. My gut says his ingenuity and ability are all directed inward – he’s been totally focused on himself and on avoiding others. But while we don’t know that big something, we need to hedge our bets. That’s why Mikey and Luce are tracking down alternative options: just in case Nathan Whittler isn’t the guy.’
‘Speaking of which,’ said Bill, ‘I appreciate how much you’re letting others work on this.’
‘Of course. Team game.’ Dana stood.
Bill’s hand gestures invited her to close the door and sit.
‘I know that’s what I preach, and I do mean preach. I know you’re a solid player. But we both know you’d run this whole investigation completely solo if I let you.’
Dana gnawed on a hangnail to avoid eye contact. The silence was warm and humid.
‘I mean,’ Bill continued, ‘it’s an essential part of your nature. The working-alone thing. The lack of chit-chat. I get it. And I can’t say you wouldn’t wrap the whole thing up in a bow – signed, sealed and delivered – without anyone’s help. That’s why you’re lead on this case. Whittler is, in some respects, you in extremis.’
She considered disagreeing, but it would be hard to fight the weight of evidence. Bill was smart enough to nail the argument if he had to.
‘We’re not totally alike.’
‘No, you’re not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be working with your colleagues, and doing it well. You’d have overcome your squeamishness about creepy-crawlies and kicked Whittler out of his cave.’
She smiled at the floor. ‘No TV there – disaster. Couldn’t live on cold food. Not enough bacon.’
‘Amen to that. I’m not criticising you. It’s very lucky for us that someone with your skills and your view of the world is right here when this case drops in. We’d be floundering without you: totally reliant on limited forensics and with no co-operation from Whittler.’ He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk and hands clasped like a prayer. ‘The flipside of that is you need to think harder than most – more consciously than most – about involving others. And I appreciate that you are. Is all I’m saying.’
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, flush with embarrassment. ‘Thanks, boss.’
He smiled at her. ‘Go get some more on Whittler.’
At the doorway, Dana turned. ‘You know that A-Team quote dates you really badly, right?’
‘Don’t start with me, Dana, I swear to God…’
Chapter 19
Mike tapped the file against his hip as he approached Interview Three. Early forensics had dribbled through: enough for a first run at Lynch. Even though the store had a thousand and one fingerprints, they’d identified some already.
It felt good to be first assist on this one, and not lead. A few years ago he’d have railed against the idea. Top-dog status was hard won, and the climb had required patience. Yet here he was, effectively splitting the seniority with Dana. That sharing thing had coincided with Bill’s arrival last year. Mike had termed his new boss Mr Collegiate. Others sneeringly coined Billy Win-Win. Mike could have dug his heels in at that point, given that many in the station thought of him as the senior detective. But he’d seen both the way the wind was blowing and what was in it for him.
Partly, he was getting older and didn’t need the same stress. Perhaps he quite enjoyed supporting Dana a little – he knew she was happy to learn and they had complementary skills. Between them, they made one mighty detective. Individually, they were deeply flawed, but in different areas and bright enough to acknowledge it. He, for example, would have been patient with Whittler but would have got nowhere: Whittler would have shut down like a petulant child. While Mike had empathy skills and verbal agility, he found reluctant interviewees more difficult. He worked them better when they were responsive and could be moved around the chess board. Dana was a queen of outwaiting the opponent, and her bookish manner had caught and held Whittler’s attention.
He’d even donated his office – something that apparently had never occurred before in public service history. Several people thought he’d been made to do it and called it emasculating. But for him, it was simply practical. Dana was an introvert who craved and fed off time alone: she needed that space to be a better detective. He didn’t – he liked bouncing ideas off Lucy and he enjoyed the energy of there being several people in the office.
Mike still wasn’t wedded to the idea that Nathan Whittler had lived for fifteen years without speaking to another human being. Nor was he convinced Whittler was the murderer. While it seemed a reach in some ways, Mike was still wavering between a domestic issue involving the Cassavettes, or some left-field intervention around the Alvarez family. He was waiting on some more intelligence on the latter so had to make do with pursuing Lynch for now.
Interview Three was off to the side of the main interview suite, an add-on created a few years ago when they realised that they were giving suspects too much opportunity to collude or intimidate. It was cheaply built, with inadequate insulation: it felt cold in winter and gave off a permanent musty air of disdain. Important suspects, sympathetic witnesses and victims went in One or Two. Unreliable witnesses, or those whose professional aims cut across police work, came here. Anyone placed in Three could be in no doubt what the police thought of them.
Lucy was pretty much standing guard at the door.
‘Ms Delaney.’ He mock-saluted. ‘We could get you a bearskin hat for sentry duty, if you think it would help.’
Lucy gave it genuine consideration. ‘I’d prefer a red hat, to match my eyes. I thought he might be a potential runner. I can’t run, but I love tripping up those who can.’ She jerked her head at the closed door. ‘He was less than impressed by me. Imagine that.’
‘I physically cannot imagine that.’
Lucy smiled. ‘You read that forensics update really thoroughly, didn’t you, Mikey? Lists and all?’
‘I hear ya. I was super-diligent, Luce, have no fear.’ Mike glanced in through the window. ‘Do I need a password? I’ll go with “let’s kill all the lawyers”.’
She pushed off the wall she’d been leaning against. ‘The Bard knew what’s what. All yours, Mikey.’ She threw a final comment over her shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to wash your hands before you come back to the office.’
He grinned at her departing back but knew she wasn’t entirely joking. Her loathing for lawyers was entrenched for some reason. He’d never found that reason.