Gill raised her eyebrows. ‘If that were true then half of the Manchester Met force would be stood down by now.’
‘What else could I have done? I did trust her. And now what? Do we think of her as a liar and a sneak for the rest of her life?’
‘No,’ Gill said.
‘I know.’
Gill sighed, turned to the mirror, raked her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. ‘Right, mate, once more into the fray?’
As one of the investigating officers, Rachel took on the task of attending the magistrates’ court with the Perrys, where the charges against them were noted and the case sent to Crown Court. Rachel requested that the men be remanded in police custody. She then re-arrested and cautioned them on suspicion of murder in the case of Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi. Noel Perry looked outraged when she did so though he offered no comment but Neil grinned and nodded as if he’d been expecting it, as if it was some sort of badge of merit to be accused of further offences.
Her mother’s voice kept echoing in her head, a nasty little earworm, maggot more like. You’re a selfish little shit, Rachel, you always were. My own daughter dobbing in my own son. Grassing up her little brother. Didn’t the silly cow understand that Rachel would’ve done anything rather than see Dom lose his freedom, his chance at something resembling a decent life. Anything except collude in covering up a murder, anything except lose her job, which was her life more or less.
While the twins waited for transport back to the police station, Rachel returned and joined the briefing, wondering what the drama had been earlier with Her Maj, trying to catch Janet’s eye and signal her curiosity. But Janet was keeping her head down, so in the end Rachel did too. Focused on the new developments they had to tackle.
In the viewing room, Gill was able to see both interview rooms on the separate monitors and hear the conversations. The similarity between the twins was overwhelming, she could discern absolutely no difference in facial features, gestures or intonation. The only way she could differentiate between the two men was because the tattoo on Noel Perry’s neck was on the left-hand side while the same design was on Neil Perry’s right side, some sort of monsters.
Lee had stayed with her to watch. Janet’s interview began first, Rachel just coming into view on the other screen as Janet said, ‘Mr Perry, you have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of persons known as Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin, on Friday the eleventh of May. You are formally under caution and anything you do say may be given in evidence. You have the right…’
Gill sipped at her coffee.
‘Tandy,’ Lee said, ‘he was at the English Bulldog Army meeting at the George Inn. The same night the twins were there, Sunday the sixth.’
‘They met then?’ Gill said. ‘Exchanged numbers?’
Janet had finished the caution and preamble. ‘Is there anything you wish to say?’
Noel Perry looked dull, impassive, then his expression broke. Hard to tell whether it was a grimace or a smile when he said, ‘I did it, I killed them.’
Gill froze. Lee stared at the monitor, open-mouthed.
‘Let me be clear,’ Janet was saying, ‘you’re admitting responsibility for the deaths of the two victims known as Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin found in the warehouse on Shuttling Way after the fire which was started on Friday the eleventh of May?’
‘Yeah.’ He braced his hands on his knees, legs apart.
‘Fuck me,’ murmured Gill, ‘that was easy. Lee, take a message. Tell Janet to carry on, we want a full statement, A to Z. We want to know exactly how the deaths were carried out and how he set the fire. His movements before and after. And motive.’
‘I’d hazard a guess,’ Lee said dryly as he left.
On the other screen, Rachel was going through the charge and Gill notched the volume up. Neil Perry answered the first question, ‘No comment.’ And the second. ‘No comment.’ Gill leaned closer, intrigued now at an emerging difference between the brothers.
Janet began by letting Noel speak uninterrupted. She would then revisit each point of his story and tease out the detail.
‘I went there on Friday, and it was like with the dosser. I shot ’em and then torched the place. That’s it.’ He shrugged.
Could it have been any balder? ‘What time on Friday was it?’
‘Dunno,’ he said.
‘Afternoon, evening?’
‘Dunno,’ he said.
‘Was it dark?’ Janet said.
‘Yeah.’
Janet felt a prick of doubt. One-word answers were never a good sign.
‘How did you get into the warehouse?’
‘Off of the bridge, by the canal, there’s a broken bit in the panelling there, you can get through then to the building. In one of the doors.’
‘The door wasn’t locked?’
‘Padlock’s long gone.’ More voluble now.
‘Had you been there before?’ Janet said.
He hesitated. Why? ‘Yes.’
‘Why was that?’ Janet said.
‘To get some stuff.’
‘You mean drugs?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Who did you get the drugs from?’
‘The nignogs.’
‘Are you referring to the victims, Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin?’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘On Friday you went in the warehouse door, then what?’ Janet said.
‘Shot ’em, like I said.’ He rolled his shoulders back, twisted his head to and fro as though he was tired of the situation.
‘Whereabouts were they?’ Janet said.
‘Just inside. That was their squat.’
‘Whereabouts in the space?’ she persisted.
‘Just there,’ he said.
‘Standing, walking, sitting?’
He seemed unsure. ‘Standing.’
Janet didn’t miss a step. ‘Who did you shoot first?’
‘The bloke.’
‘Victor. Where was he?’
‘In the place, I told you.’
‘Was he sitting or standing when you shot him?’
‘Standing,’ he said.
‘Where did you hit him?’ she said.
‘In the chest.’ He banged a fist on his own breastbone.
‘How many times?’
‘Once.’
‘Then what?’
‘I did her.’
‘Lydia, where was she?’
He started to shrug then gave another sickly grin. ‘Trying to get away.’
‘You shot her how many times?’
‘Don’t remember,’ he said.
‘Try and remember,’ Janet said.
‘Once, in the back.’
‘What happened next?’
‘I poured the petrol on them, lit it up.’
Janet nodded though her mind was racing, trying to work out how what she was hearing fitted with the facts. Or didn’t. ‘And after that?’
‘Went home.’ He shuffled in his seat, rubbed his hand on his forearm where the fancy lettering spelled out the infamous quotes from Hitler’s bible.
‘Did anyone see you arrive home?’ Janet said.
‘Mum was out.’
‘What about Neil?’
‘Dunno,’ he said.
‘He wasn’t involved?’ Janet said.
‘No comment.’
‘Where’s the gun now?’
He fell silent.
‘Don’t you know?’ she said.
A shrug.
‘Was it the same gun that you used to kill Richard Kavanagh?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Where did you get the gun?’
He shook his head.
‘You need to speak,’ Janet said.
‘No comment.’
‘What about the petrol, where did you get that?’
‘Same as before,’ he said, ‘the Shell place.’
‘So let me be clear, when you shot Victor he was standing how far away from you?’
‘Few feet.’
‘How many?’ Janet said.
‘No idea. Didn’t measure it.’
‘Was he facing you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did he say anything?’