Dana wrote slowly, to the background of his belligerent, fuming indignation. She wanted him off balance like this; as they’d suspected, Jeb would play fast and loose when he wasn’t in control. She felt it was significant that he hadn’t acknowledged he knew Lou was dead. There was an obvious reason why he might hide it: and he had been at the crime scene just two weeks earlier. Dana chose to keep her powder dry. Time to switch.
‘Your brother went missing in 2004, is that correct?’
Jeb shrugged.
‘Sounds about right, yeah.’
It wasn’t something he’d forget. Dana didn’t like the fake insouciance.
‘About right, or absolutely accurate? You were there, Mr Whittler.’
‘He’d have been around… twenty-one, twenty-two; so yeah.’
‘Again: you were there at the time, Mr Whittler. May 3, 2004.’ She glanced down at the notes before confirming the date.
The subtle implication of evidential weight made Jeb glance at the paperwork and pause before answering. He swallowed and shuffled his weight.
‘Whatever. Around then. It’s a long time ago. Why would I remember a specific date?’
‘Because it’s the specific date when your only sibling vanished, not to be seen again for fifteen years. Did you report him missing to the authorities?’
Jeb leaned forward and swept the table in front of him with the palm of his hand. Ostensibly cleaning it; actually marking out an arc of territory. ‘Don’t insult my intelligence. You’ve checked, so you know I didn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I, uh, don’t believe in wasting the taxpayer’s money, Detective.’ He smirked to himself. ‘Nate chose to go; no need to have the police running around. Besides, my family are very private people. We don’t like opening our lives up to all-comers.’
‘Did you look for him?’
Jeb shot his cuffs. ‘Yeah, I tried his usual haunts. Both of ’em. Turns out he wasn’t in the library or the park. He had no friends to ask.’
‘And then you stopped looking?’
He leaned forward, sensing an advantage. ‘Au contraire, Detective. I hired a private investigator.’
‘And what did the PI find?’
‘That he could charge a thousand and locate nothing. And then he found he wanted to give half of it back. We came to an arrangement.’ He let the insinuation hang in the air and absent-mindedly clasped a knuckle with the other hand. It looked natural, subconscious. Habitual.
‘Look, Detective, Nate took off for his own reasons and didn’t want to be found. So in the end I left him to it. He knew where we were. We didn’t move house or anything. He could have picked up the phone, or walked through the door, any time he liked. Why don’t you ask him why he left and where he went?’
‘I have, Mr Whittler. He has an interesting story. Perhaps you could help to verify some of the details?’
Jeb sat back, understanding that this was the crux of the conversation. ‘Well, we’ve established what a helpful person I am.’
‘We certainly have.’
Dana glanced towards her notes.
‘How had you and your brother been getting along in the lead-up to his disappearance?’
He was, she guessed, wondering how much she knew; exactly what Nathan might have spilled and whether Jeb could be digging a hole for himself. If she knew all of it, maybe he needed legal advice. On the other hand, she was asking perfectly reasonable and neutral questions. If she knew little or nothing, he’d only open up her suspicions by suddenly reaching for a lawyer.
‘Okay. As brothers go. You’ve met him. We’re different people, Nate and I; different eras. He needed, uh, steering. They all did. My parents wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Nothing got done unless I made it happen.’
‘I see. So you’re very much the driver of the family’s life, is that so?’
‘I was. My parents died after Nate left; car accident. But until those things, yeah. I was the one with the energy, ambition.’ When he wasn’t speaking his clenched jaw betrayed the tension.
‘I understand. So it’s true to say that nothing significant went on in the family without your say-so, or your own action?’
Jeb’s eyes narrowed. He could see he was being pulled down an alleyway.
‘What’s Nate said? He’s a bullshitter. You know that, right?’
She ignored him. ‘You controlled the family finances in 2004?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I did. So what? My parents were hopeless with money. Nate was a low-achiever, contributed next to nothing. Someone had to make sure the bills were paid on time.’
‘Quite so. Especially when you’d had full power of attorney granted in 1990. Your brother was only ten then?’
‘It was a sensible, lawful arrangement. Tax efficient, too. Business people have to think of those things, Detective, unlike public servants. I assume you’ve got a copy of the agreement. You’ll have seen it was witnessed by the bank manager himself.’
‘Oh yes, it’s a legal document. No question.’
‘And? There is an “and”, isn’t there, Detective?’
She took a slow breath. Time to launch.
‘Your brother alleges that, on a number of occasions, you injected your parents with insulin. To induce either coma or paralysis.’
She looked straight at him, wondering what Mike was making of this from the viewing room. Such an accusation should have brought incredulity from Jeb; shocked denial. Instead, it brought a felinisation of his features. He seemed to be calculating how much she understood. Or, more importantly, could prove.
Dana continued. ‘He alleges that you embezzled your parents’ money. He alleges that you bullied and controlled them, and him, over many years. He alleges that you broke his arm and threatened to kill him if he ever spoke about your insulin habits.’
She could see Jeb struggling to retain control. He focused on a corner of the room and dropped the volume.
‘He says a lot of things, Detective. No doubt he’s given you the concrete evidence to back it all up.’
She finished the accusations. ‘He says that’s why he ran in 2004: because you were going to end up killing him.’
Again, the casual stroke of the knuckle. Jeb simmered for a second, maybe considering whether he could get to her before anyone could burst in and stop him. She looked at him evenly. She could fall backwards and hit the panic button in half a second. But he might need only one punch to deform her face for ever. She made that exact calculation.
‘That’s some story, Detective.’ His voice was quiet now, unnerving.
‘We’re looking into the evidence, Mr Whittler. What do you say to those statements?’
He separated his hands, clasped one knee as he crossed his legs.
‘Hah, look. Nate always had an imagination. Apparently, he still does. That’s, uh, fanciful. Ludicrous. Insulin? I don’t even know if that’s physically possible. Neither do you.’ Jeb leaned forward and half his face disappeared in shadow. ‘Nate always had thought bubbles coming out of his head. Never speech bubbles. If you catch my drift.’
‘That sounds like contempt.’
‘He’s my little brother, Detective. We’re linked in blood. But yeah, he was never going to amount to much until he learned to talk to people.’ He raised a finger, as though this were simply a point of order. ‘I mean, you’re in a people business, aren’t you? Wouldn’t get far without those skills.’
Dana collected herself, aware of the station gossip from Nathan’s arrival this morning: some felt her lack of informants, ‘street smarts’ and intel were apparently proof that she didn’t have those skills and thus wouldn’t get far.