Swiftly, he grasped the back of Paul’s neck and squeezed hard. Paul hung on to the edge of the desk and struggled, almost upsetting his flimsy chair. Then, just as abruptly, Burgess let go and leaned casually against the wall.
“Try again,” he said.
Paul massaged his neck and looked pleadingly at Banks, who remained impassive.
“It’s true, I tell you,” Paul said. “I swear it. I never killed him. I just picked up the knife.”
“Let’s assume we believe you,” Banks said. “That still leaves us with a problem, doesn’t it? And that problem is: why? Why did you pick up the murder weapon and sneak it away from the scene of the crime? See what I mean? It doesn’t add up.”
Paul shifted in his seat, casting nervous glances at Burgess, who stood just within his peripheral vision. “I didn’t even know there was a crime,” he said.
“Who are you protecting, Paul?” Banks asked.
“Nobody.” But Paul had answered so quickly and loudly that even the most gullible person in the world would have
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known he was lying. Recognizing his slip, he turned red and stared down at his knees.
“The people at Maggie’s Farm took you in and cared for you, didn’t they?” Banks said. “They were probably the first people who ever did. You were lost, just out of jail, no job, nowhere to go, at the end of your tether, and then you met them. It’s not surprising you’d want to protect them, Paul, but can’t you see how transparent you’re being? Who do you suspect?”
“I don’t know. Nobody.”
“Osmond, Tim Fenton, Abha Sutton? Would you go out of your way to protect them?”
Paul said nothing.
Burgess slapped the metal table. “Tell him!”
Paul jumped, startled by the sound. “I might,” he said, glaring at Burgess. “I might protect anyone who killed a pig.”
Burgess backhanded him across the face. Paul went with the blow and almost fell out of his chair.
“Try again, dick-head.”
Banks grabbed Burgess by the elbow and led him over to the window. “Don’t you think,” he said between gritted teeth, “that you’d do better using your brains instead of your bloody fists?”
“What’s wrong with you, Banks? Gone soft? Is that why they sent you up here?”
Banks jerked his head towards Paul. “He’s used to hard knocks. They don’t mean anything to him, and you bloody well ought to know that. You’re satisfying your sadistic urges, that’s all.”
Burgess sniffed and turned back to Paul, who sat wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, sneering at both of them. He had overheard, Banks realized, and he probably thought the whole scene was staged just to throw him off balance. “You admit that when you found the knife on the ground you recognized it, right?” Banks asked.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t want any of your friends at the farm to get into trouble.”
“That’s right.”
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“So you took it and threw it away.”
“Yes. I went back on the moors to look for it a few times. I knew it was stupid just to throw it away without wiping it or anything, but I panicked. I should’ve taken it back to the farm and cleaned it up again, just like new. I know that now. I walked miles and miles looking for the bloody thing. Couldn’t find it anywhere. And then that shepherd bloke turned up with it.”
“So who did you think you were protecting?”
“I don’t know.” Paul took out a crumpled Kleenex and dabbed at the thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve already told you, I didn’t see who took the knife and I didn’t see who used it.”
“We’ll leave it for now, then.” Banks turned to Burgess. “What do you think?”
“I still think he’s lying. Maybe he’s not as thick as he looks. He’s trying to put the blame on his mates, subtle like.”
“I’m not too sure,” Banks said. “He could be telling the truth. Problem is he’s got no proof, has he? I mean, he could tell us anything.”
“And expect us to believe it. Let’s lock him up for a while, anyway. Let him cool his heels. We’ll question him again later and see if everything tallies.”
Paul, who had been glancing from one to the other with his mouth open, let out a cry. “No! I’ve told you, it’s the truth. What more do you want me to do?”
Burgess shrugged and leaned back against the wall. Banks reached for a cigarette; his pack was empty. “Well, I’m inclined to believe him,” he said. “At least for the time being. Are you sure you didn’t see who took the knife, Paul?”
“No. It could’ve been anyone.”
