the machine at the cost of another 'nice to see you back' from one of the civilian staff, and took it to the observation room, where you could monitor interviews.
The woman was being questioned by McGarvie and a female detective in Interview Room C. Diamond had to watch the screen for a while before making up his mind. The last time he'd seen this woman she was practically foaming at the mouth. Now there was no discernible aggression. She was in control of herself, if not entirely at ease.
But definitely his attacker.
McGarvie was saying to her, 'You don't deny you were in court?'
'That's no crime.'
'What was your interest in the case?'
No response.
'You're a friend of Jake Carpenter's - is that right?'
'If you know it all, buster,' she said with a flat nasal twang more London than Bristol, 'I don't know why you bother to ask me.'
'I'm giving you the chance to explain what happened.'
'Oh, sure.'
'You were also seen outside the court demonstrating - if that's the word - about the verdict.'
'It's a free country.'
'So you don't deny you were one of the people shouting?'
She showed more interest. McGarvie was making headway, even if she insisted on ducking the last question. She flicked some blond hair from her face, and tilted her chin to a more challenging angle. Defiant, but sexy. Meticulously groomed and fashionably dressed in a black suit and wine-red polo-neck. It was easy to see why Jake Carpenter had been attracted.
'Did you follow all of the trial?' McGarvie asked. 'Did you hear all the evidence?'
'Evidence? I call it a stitch-up.'
'So I'm told. Were you there right through?'
'Not every day. I couldn't stomach it, watching a fine man brought down.'
In the observation room, Diamond said, 'I feel like throwing up.'
McGarvie pressed on. 'What's the truth of it, then, in your opinion? The poor woman was violently murdered. Her face was raw meat when they took her out of the river. You wouldn't argue with that?'
'Jake ain't a violent man. He may have his faults, but he don't treat women like that.'
'The blood in his car matched hers.'
'Piss-easy to arrange, innit?'
'Watch it, Janie.'
'Some nutter killed her,' she said. 'She was on the game. It's a risk they take.'
'Jake was her pimp,' McGarvie told her. 'She flew the coop and paid the price with her life.'
'Your lot were out to get him, and this gave you the excuse.'
'Her blood was on his shoe as well.'
'Of course it was. A few spots in his car wouldn't do the trick. It stands out a mile what you did. You wrap it up as science and the stupid jury swallows it.'
They could have gone on like this indefinitely. McGarvie had the sense to change the script.
'How long have you known the Carpenters?'
'Seven months.'
'You're not local, are you, Janie? Where are you from?'
'Dagenham.'
'But you don't know Bristol very well, or you wouldn't be holding a torch for the Carpenter brothers. Where did you meet Jake?'
'Nightclub.'
'Local?'
'London.'
'And he brought you here and set you up in a nice apartment in Clifton? Did you stop to think what the price tag is?'
Her eyes blazed. 'Sod off, will you?'
'So it was pure romance,' McGarvie said with heavy irony.
'I'm not on the game. Never have been.'
'Nor was Maeve Smith before she met Jake. Get real, Janie. He's evil.'
