The girl’s head snapped round to Hoskins. ‘You stupid bastard! You never told me you touched anything.’
‘That’s right, you mouthy cow!’ snarled Hoskins. ‘Sign my bleeding death warrant!’
Gilmore gave a yell of triumph. ‘Caution them,’ said Frost, ‘and take them down to the station.’ He went out to see how the search for the knife and for bloodstained clothing was getting on. The bedroom was a pigsty. Jordan and WPC Ridley were stuffing unwashed clothing into a black plastic dustbin sack, the same type of sack Paula Bartlett’s body was found in.
‘Nothing yet,’ Jordan told him. Frost nodded glumly. Outside through the window, he could see two police officers sifting through the contents of the dustbin. Something told him that this wasn’t going to be as easy as Gilmore seemed to think.
The interview room was cold. The heating engineers had managed to restore heat to the basement cells, but wouldn’t get round to this floor until the morning. So it was cold. But Hoskins was sweating. The girl, now wearing a thick sweater, sat by his side. Gilmore had wanted the pair questioned separately, but Frost favoured having them together.
Gilmore switched on the tape recorder, announced the details of the time and who was present, then dragged a chair across and sat facing them.
‘I want to make a statement,’ said Hoskins.
‘You’re on the air, so go ahead.’
‘I never touched her. Like I told the other cop, the old girl knocked at our door moaning that someone had got into her house with the spare key, but when I looked, the key was there all the time, so I left her to it. After a while, I got worried about her, so I went back and knocked, but got no answer. I thought I’d better check, just in case, so I used her spare key from under the mat to get in. I called, “Are you all right, Mrs Haynes?” Dead silence. Funny, I thought. I called again. Nothing. So I nipped upstairs just to make sure she’s all right and, Christ! There she was on the bed and blood everywhere. I couldn’t get down them bleeding stairs fast enough.’ He turned to the girl to verify his story.
‘Dean was as white as a sheet when he came in,’ she confirmed, ‘and he was sick as a bloody parrot down the sink.’
‘What time was this?’ Gilmore asked.
‘About eleven o’clock Sunday night.’
‘And you didn’t think of calling an ambulance, or the police?’
‘Ambulance? She was dead — I could see that.’
‘Police then?’
‘What — a bloke with a record inside a dead woman’s house? That’s as good as a signed confession to you lot. I’d have been in Death bleeding Row within the hour.’
Gilmore flicked through his notes. ‘You told the other officer it was five o’clock Sunday when Mrs Haynes rang your bell.’
'That’s right.’
‘And you were so worried about her, you waited six hours before knocking to see if she’s all right?’
‘Well, at least I did go and knock. Other people wouldn’t have bothered.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Gilmore.
‘I don’t expect you to,’ said Hoskins, loud and clear to the microphone. ‘But it’s the gospel truth.’
Gilmore frowned as the door opened and the little blonde WPC hovered, waving something — a large brown envelope. He’d give her a mouthful for interrupting at a crucial moment. It was Frost who spoke to her, keeping his voice low, then he called Gilmore over. Murmurs of excited conversation while Hoskins looked on worried, straining his ears in vain, wondering what it was about.
The two detectives returned, Gilmore carrying the envelope which he shook over the table. Five banknotes fluttered out, a?20 note, a?10 note and three?5 notes, all crisp and brand new. Hoskins tried to look puzzled. ‘Guess what we found hidden behind one of your chair cushions,’ said Gilmore. He picked up one of the notes and sniffed delicately, then smiled. ‘Smell it. Lavender!’ He looked across to the girl. ‘Hardly your style, is it, love?’ He waggled the note under Hoskins’ nose. ‘The old girl’s purse reeked of it!’
Hoskins pushed Gilmore’s hand away. ‘It’s my giro money,’ he muttered.
‘Of course it is,’ said Gilmore, ‘but just in case you’re telling me a porky, I’ll check the numbers with the post office where Mrs Haynes drew her pension. If they tally, Sonny Jim, you’re for the high jump.’ He pushed the money back into the envelope. He felt much happier now. Hoskins was beginning to squirm and the girl looked worried. Frost seemed fidgety, no doubt annoyed that the new boy was scoring all the goals.
Hoskins took a deep breath. ‘All right, I’ll tell you the truth. It is her money, but she lent it to me. I needed some spares for my motorbike.’
‘Lent it?’ scoffed Gilmore. ‘She wouldn’t have lent you forty-five pence, let alone forty-five quid.’
‘She bloody, lent it to me,’ insisted Hoskins. ‘And I was very grateful, that’s why I went in later to check she was all right.’
Frost leant forward. ‘She gave you everything she had in her purse. How was the poor cow going to manage?’
‘I intended paying her back in a couple of days. She said she could wait.’
‘When did you borrow it?’ asked Frost.
‘When she thought she’d lost her spare key. I saw her purse in her hand so I asked her.’
‘Do you mind if I continue, sir?’ asked Gilmore with an edge to his voice that would slice through tempered steel. He didn’t want Frost taking over just when victory was within grasp.
Frost’s hand waved him to silence. ‘Indulge me, Sergeant.’ He puffed cigarette smoke down over the seated man. ‘All right, Hoskins, let’s pretend she lent you the money. And let’s pretend you were so full of gratitude that you were worried about her and decided to see if she was all right at eleven o’clock at night. When you knocked, were the lights on in her house?’
Hoskins paused for a moment. ‘No.’
‘So when you got no reply, from a house with all the lights out, you thought it was your duty to investigate it — to use her spare key and nose around inside?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It never occurred to you that at eleven o’clock at night the most obvious answer was that this seventy-eight-year-old woman might be in bed, asleep?’
Hoskins’ mouth opened and shut, then he shook his head. ‘No. It didn’t occur to me at the time.’
Frost gave a weary sigh. ‘Don’t waste my time, son. Of course it occurred to you. You were banking on it. You wanted her to be in bed and asleep.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Hoskins muttered to the floor.
‘You stupid little git. You’re going to talk yourself into a life sentence.’ He stood up and started to button his mac. ‘I don’t think you killed her, but if you’re sticking to that story I’m charging you with murder and your girlfriend as an accessory.’
Hoskins, his face set, stared stubbornly down at the ground.
‘If you don’t tell them the bleeding truth, then I will,’ said the girl. ‘They’re not nicking me for something I didn’t do.’
Hoskins took a deep breath. ‘All right… scrub every thing I said. This is now the gospel…’
Frost sat down again and waited. Gilmore was scowling, arms folded, itching to take over the reins of the questioning.
‘Yes, I was going to do the place over — nip in, grab what I could and get out quick. I knew where the spare key was, so I waited until eleven o’clock when I thought the old girl would be asleep. I let myself in. Her bag was on the hall table, so I nicked the money from her purse. Then I crept upstairs. The first door I tried was her bedroom. Christ, when I saw her smothered in blood, it frightened the shit out of me. My feet never touched the flaming stairs as I came down. I took the money, but I never bleeding killed her.’
‘I believe him,’ said Frost when they were back in the office.
‘Well, I don’t,’ said Gilmore. He was furious. He’d have got a bloody confession to murder if the old fool hadn’t butted in.
‘Mind you,’ added Frost, ‘if Forensic find her blood all over his clothes, I’m prepared to change my mind.’