Dorling bared his teeth and pointed at his black eye. “Effing looks that way, don’t it?”
“Okay, this isn’t getting us anywhere. So, you’re insisting that you were alone in your room on Sunday the eighth. My next question is where were you the following night?”
“What? How the fuck should I know?” Dorling turned to his solicitor and frowned. “Do you know what’s going on here? Can they keep asking me questions without having proof that I was at the scene?”
Miss Cornwell smiled briefly at her client. “Just answer their questions.”
“Some effing help you are.” He grunted in complaint.
The brief ignored his angry comment and stared at her notebook, pen poised to make notes again.
“Here’s the thing—we do have proof that you were at the scene.” Sally smiled at the suspect, but she knew it never reached her eyes.
“And I’m telling you, you can’t have. Jesus, how many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“Going back to last week. Where were you on Monday night? That would be the ninth of March.”
“And I’ll give you the same answer—back in my room at the B&B, not that you’re going to believe me. Why? What am I supposed to have done wrong on that day? Go on, effing surprise me?”
“Well… we discovered another body of a woman in the near vicinity to Brenda Fisher’s body. Do you know anything about that victim?”
Dorling ground his teeth, his eyes widening, before he found the words to deny any wrongdoing. “No. I know nothing. Is this some kind of effing wind-up? Should I be looking for a hidden camera somewhere?”
“No, Mr. Dorling, this is no joke. I’m being serious. Yet another body was found the night after Brenda Fisher was murdered, and here’s the interesting thing, the second victim also had a present left on her body.”
“Which was?”
“We’ve yet to get this verified, but it would appear to be your DNA again.”
“What? It can’t be!” Dorling objected irately.
“I must interject there, Inspector. By the sounds of things, you’re assuming that to be the case. Without factual evidence you cannot put the blame on my client.”
“You’re right, Miss Cornwell. I think it will only be a matter of hours before the lab confirms our suspicions, though. So I thought I’d pre-empt that and ask anyway, while we have the suspect here on another charge.”
The solicitor gave Sally another warning glance then looked down at her notebook.
Dorling picked up where his solicitor left off. “I refuse to answer, in that case.”
“Like I say, it’s only a matter of time, Dorling. Now, do you want to change your story about Brenda Fisher? Did she turn you down at the pub? Is that it?”
“Christ, don’t you listen, woman? I don’t know this wench. I never left my gaff that night, as far as I can remember. As for going down the boozer, I bloody wish! I can’t afford that kind of luxury living on minimum wage and forking out for B&B accommodation. Have you any idea how much that sets me back a week? One hundred and thirty quid—that’s what! On top of that, I’m expected to find money for food.”
“If you can’t afford where you live, why did you go to a B&B instead of staying at a hostel?”
“Doh, ‘cause there was no room at the inn.”
“I see. We’re veering off track here. I’m sorry about your circumstances, but that really has nothing to do with me trying to solve this case. At the moment, you are our prime suspect in at least one murder. We’re awaiting results on two other murders. They should be with us in the next day or two.”
Dorling’s head jerked as he looked at the three people around the table, shock emanating from him in sonic waves. “What? No way! No way are you effing blaming me for three bloody murders. You can’t do that!” He turned to his solicitor and grabbed her arm. “Tell them. They can’t pin one bloody murder on me, let alone three. Tell them!”
His brief stared down at his hand until Dorling finally released his grip. “The inspector has said they’re awaiting the results from the other cases. If you know anything about the first victim, you should tell the inspector.”
“I don’t! I’m innocent. How many times do I have to say that?”
Sally could tell that Dorling was becoming angrier with every passing second. She nudged her partner with her leg; it was a code they’d devised between them. Jack knew to be on his guard in case the suspect struck out at anyone. Jack nudged her in return and pushed his chair back a little so that he was ready to pounce on the suspect if the need arose.
“Calm down, Dorling. We have the proof. All you need to tell us is what went on that evening.”
He vehemently shook his head. “Nothing. Because I wasn’t effing there. Here’s a fact that you need to listen to, Inspector. I haven’t been near a woman since I got out of prison. Why the fuck would I? You lay one hand on the bitches nowadays, and they shout rape. What’s the frigging point when a wank is more preferable and less trouble?”
Sally raised an eyebrow at the gross image he’d conjured up. But she saw a smattering of truth in what the man was saying. Something in her gut told her that he was telling the truth. But the evidence? Her inner voice objected. Thinking that they were getting nowhere fast, she asked the suspect her final question.
“Last chance, Mr. Dorling. When did you meet Brenda Fisher, on the night of March the eighth?”
His lips pulled into a thin line, and he shook his head, refusing to answer her question.
“Okay. I’m drawing this interview to a close. You’ve had your chance. You’ll be shipped out to a remand centre and appear before a judge in the next few days. By that time, the other DNA results should be with us, and we can see about adding those murder charges to the offence already brought against you.”
“Whatever! What’s the point in me trying to deny anything? There’s no point, is there?”
“Without an alibi, it looks to me like you’re up the creek.” Sally agreed, a tinge of guilt pricking her conscience when she recognised defeat in his words. She looked over at the constable standing in the corner of the room. “Take him back to his cell and make him comfortable for the night.”
After the suspect was escorted from the room, Jack went ahead to the incident room to update the team on what the suspect had told them, which was very little.
The solicitor took her time packing away her notebook. She glanced up at Sally. “When are the other results likely?”
“Within a day or two. I have to tell you that semen was found on all three bodies.”
“You don’t think it could be a case of a copycat murder going on here? My client seemed adamant that he was nowhere near the scene or had ever met this Brenda Fisher, Inspector.”
“Not possible. Copycat killings only happen once the knowledge of a crime has been circulated through the media. That isn’t the case here. We’ve held off going down that route because we wanted the DNA results verified first. I’m going to put out a plea to the public once we receive the other results. If—and it’s a very big if—Dorling is innocent, then the TV pleas should give us some other clues to follow up on.”
“I understand. Will you let me know once the results come back?” The solicitor handed Sally her business card.
“Of course. Thanks for attending today.”
Sally showed the woman the way out then slowly walked back upstairs to the incident room.
“Right, I need to action the forensic team to examine Dorling’s room at the B&B and his car, then I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready for a well-deserved drink. Let’s wind things up and go to the Four Feathers, eh?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack replied. The rest of the team nodded then tidied up their desks and switched off their computers.
“I’ll join you in a couple of minutes. I have a few things needing my attention before I call it a day.”
Jack chuckled. “In other words, folks, get the beers in before I get there.”