‘Fifteen thousand views already,’ said Maurice. ‘And it’s been up there for less than an hour.’
‘It was supposed to be private,’ I repeated dumbly, handing her back the iPad and taking a large cognac from Phil Hobday’s outstretched hand.
‘Nothing about João Zarco is private now,’ said Jane Byrne. ‘At least not until his killer is caught.’
‘His killer?’
‘That’s certainly what it looks like,’ she said. ‘The body was quite badly beaten up.’
With a movement of her hand she invited me to sit down. She spoke very clearly and very deliberately as if she were speaking to someone who wasn’t very bright. Or perhaps she just realised that I was still feeling numb with shock.
‘I’m in charge of this investigation,’ she explained, and introduced some of the other policemen who were also present in the room — names that went in one ear and out the other.
She watched me carefully as I drained the glass and let Phil pour me another.
‘I know as little as you about what happened, so if you don’t mind, Mr Manson, I’ll ask the questions for the present.’
I nodded again as she hit an app on her iPhone that would record our conversation.
‘When and where did you last see Mr Zarco?’
‘This morning at about eleven o’clock. We were at the club’s training facility in Hangman’s Wood where, as usual on the day of a match, we picked the team; then he left to attend a lunch here, in this room. At least that’s where he told me he was going.’ I sighed as it began to hit me again. ‘Yes, that was the last time I saw him. And also the last time I spoke to him.’
‘What time did he arrive here?’ she asked Phil.
‘About eleven thirty.’
‘What was his mood when he left Hangman’s Wood?’
‘He seemed to be in an excellent mood,’ I said. ‘We had a good result against Leeds in the week and we both thought we were going to win this afternoon. Which we did.’
She glanced at Phil. ‘And when he got here? How was he then?’
‘Still in a good mood,’ Phil confirmed. ‘Never better.’
‘I shall want to interview everyone who was at that lunch,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ said Phil. ‘I’ll fix it.’
Jane Byrne looked at me. ‘Mr Hobday has told me about the grave that was found dug into the pitch about ten days ago. And I’ve read the police report of that incident. According to the investigating detective, Detective Inspector Neville, you weren’t very cooperative with that inquiry, Mr Manson. Why was that, please?’
‘It’s a long story. Let’s just say that I was more inclined than your detective to think it was just a hole that had been made by vandals and an inevitable corollary of the kind of fanatical support that clubs get in the modern game.’
‘It looks like you were wrong, doesn’t it? Especially in view of the fact that a photograph of Mr Zarco was found in the grave. This photograph.’
‘It looks like it.’
‘It looks like the photograph, or it looks like you were wrong?’
I shrugged. ‘Both.’
‘Why did you choose not to inform DI Neville about the discovery of this photograph?’
‘Like I say, the police missed it when they were here and it didn’t seem worth bringing them back again. I figured if they’d really been doing their job properly they’d have found it in the first place. Anyway, it really wasn’t my decision. After all, it wasn’t a photograph of me we’re talking about. Zarco was the boss around here. That’s what being a football manager means, Chief Inspector. He said jump, we said how high. Quite literally, sometimes. So it was very much down to him what we did when we were here. And he said we should forget all about it.’
‘So he didn’t seem alarmed by it?’
‘Not in the least. You have to remember this: that threats against football managers are an occupational hazard. Speak to Neil Lennon at Celtic, or Ally McCoist at Rangers — they’ll tell you.’
‘But they’re in Glasgow, aren’t they? This is London. Things are a little less tribal down here, surely?’
‘Perhaps. Which is probably why Zarco didn’t take it seriously when we found his picture in that grave. And why he chose not to report the matter to Detective Inspector Neville.’
‘But now he’s dead and here we are with a mystery.’
‘Yes. It would seem so. The Silvertown Dock Mystery.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘No, say it.’
‘It’s just that there was a film made donkey’s years ago. A creaky old black and white movie called The Arsenal Stadium Mystery, in which a player gets murdered.’
‘I must check that out on DVD.’
‘I could give you my own copy. But to be honest, I wouldn’t bother. It really is very old and not at all relevant.’
‘Have you any ideas as to who might have killed Mr Zarco?’
‘None at all.’
‘Are you being serious?’
‘Yes. Look, this is football, not organised crime.’
‘Really? Come on, Mr Manson. From what I’ve read and heard João Zarco was a man who’d made a lot of enemies.’
‘Who doesn’t make enemies in football? Look, I’m not going to sit here and say who they were. Zarco was a man of strong opinions. Sometimes his passion for the game of football upset people. But enemies who might have killed him?’ I shook my head. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Enemies like who, for instance?’
‘Please. I just lost a very close friend. And this on top of the suicide, not so very long ago, of another man I was also fond of. Matt Drennan. Perhaps you’ll ask me again when I’m thinking straight. But at this particular moment in time I’m not really in the mood to provide you with a list of possible suspects. Perhaps in the morning.’
‘Don’t you want us to find out who killed him?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Then the sooner you feel inclined to help the sooner we’ll catch whoever killed him.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion.’
‘Ah.’
‘What?’
‘Now we’re getting to it,’ she said. ‘To the real reason you don’t want to help us with our inquiry, perhaps.’
‘With all due respect, and under the circumstances, I think Mr Manson has been more than helpful so far,’ observed Ronnie Leishmann.
‘That’s your opinion,’ said the Detective Chief Inspector. ‘Mr Manson’s hostility to the police is a matter of public record.’
‘As is the hostility of the police towards me,’ I said. ‘I believe the same public record will show that the police consistently lied about me in court and conspired to have me falsely imprisoned. And by the way, just in case you feel like you want to wrap this case up very quickly, I have an alibi for the whole of today. There were more than sixty thousand people out there who were watching me all afternoon. Not to mention two and a half million people on telly. When they weren’t watching my every move I was in the dressing room with the team. I like to get naked with other men, if you were wondering.’
She seemed about to say something, and then smiled.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You’re perfectly right, of course. And I apologise. If I’d been through what you’ve been through then I suppose I might very well feel the same way about the police as you do. It’s perfectly shameful what happened to you, Mr Manson. Really it is. Look, let’s start again, shall we?’ She stood up and held out her hand. ‘Jane Byrne. Will you accept my word that I’m not here to protect the reputation of the Met but to apprehend Mr Zarco’s killer? And may I offer my sincere condolences on the death of Mr Zarco?’
I took her hand. ‘You know, you’re the second police officer I’ve met who seems like a nice person.’