Читать книгу The Killing Club - Paul Finch - Страница 16

‘I’m guessing interrogation’s a skill you guys haven’t mastered yet?’ Heck said. ‘Because in the last five minutes, your questions have revealed to me that Jim Laycock was abducted last night from a pub in Kilburn at roughly eleven p.m. … that he died sometime between twelve and one, and that his body was found this morning in an abandoned vehicle in Hornsey. All stuff which, if you’d kept it quiet, you could have used to trip me up.’

‘And in return you’ve told us nothing,’ DS Fowler said. ‘Which hardly looks good from your point of view, does it?’

‘I’ve told you nothing you want to hear,’ Heck replied. ‘But it happens to be the truth … which is sometimes pretty boring, I’ll admit.’

He was clad in a paper custody suit, and slumped in an interview room at Hammersmith police station. On the other side of the table sat SOCAR detectives Gribbins and Fowler, first names Nick and Steph. Though now in civvies, the former of these appeared no less a thug, his brutish looks topped by a curly brown mop. His corduroy jacket and open-necked plaid shirt somehow accentuated his big, powerful frame. Also out of battle-dress, the latter had a rather cool ‘Mrs Peel’ kind of aura. Her slim-fit pinstripes hugged her athletic form, but she wore her jet-black hair gathered in a severe bun. Detective Inspector O’Dowd was nowhere to be seen, though he was probably watching through the two-way mirror on the wall. Maybe Frank Tasker was through there as well, though Heck hadn’t seen the SOCAR boss in the custody suite when he’d first been brought in.