^ o
Till show you steel tits,’ she said. She pulled her blouse roughly over her head and reached round to unhook her bra, in the same moment turning back towards him and leaning over his naked
o o
chest. Then she stopped. Her breasts were swinging free, her
rr o o ‘
nipples beginning to harden with excitement as they brushed gently against his hot skin. The expression on her face changed and darkened with anger. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. His head lolled forward, his cheek bouncing into the soft flesh of her breasts. Ben Cooper was unconscious and snoring.
‘Bastard!’
Finally she went back to the sitting room, her mind repeating what he had said, over and over. Steel tits. What had he meant? She undressed, did her exercises automatically and without enthusiasm, pulled a rug over her and lay down on the sofa. Her body was weary, but her mind was whirling endlessly. She tried to read a book, but found the pages were a blur. She discarded the book, turned over restlessly and eventually put out the light. She pressed her face into her pillow, hugged her steel tits to herself, and wept.
309
25
The old man sat upright on the plastic chair in the interview room, staring at DC1 Taiiby and DC Fry with frozen dignity, as if he were the only one present who knew how to behave properly.
‘Interview commenced at 1430 Friday twenty-seventh August. Those present are Detective Chief Inspector Taiiby …’
‘Detective Constable Fry …’
Taiiby nodded at Harry. ‘Could you identify yourself Jor the tape, please, sir.’
‘My name’s Harold Dickinson.’
‘You’re entitled to have a solicitor present, Mr Dickinson. Do you hare your own, or would you like the duty solicitor?’
Till not need one of them.’
‘Areyou quite sure?’
Harry ignored the question, waiting for the next one. Tape or not, he seemed to say, there were times when speaking was a waste of breath.
‘Have you been given food and sufficient rest?’ asked Taiiby formally. ‘Have you been given the opportunity to make a phone call?’
‘Where’s my dog?’
‘He’s being looked after, Mr Dickinson,’ said Fry.
‘She’s a she, not a he,’ he said, with open contempt.
Taiiby glared back across the table. ‘We have to ask you some more questions, Mr Dickinson.’
Harry stared at him impassively. Somehow he made his waxed paper suit look as if it had come from a rack at Marks and Spencers. The disposable plimsolls they had given him looked almost as if they had been polished overnight.
‘Well. You can ask,’ he said.
They interviewed Harry at intervals throughout the day, making sure he was fed at the correct times, ensuring he got the proper rests, asking him repeatedly if he wanted a solicitor.
310
The Police and Criminal Evidence Act obliged them to make sure he understood questions, was not distressed or fatigued or under the influence of any substance that affected his level of awareness, and that he was offered refreshment and allowed access to toilet facilities.
They alternated their teams of interviewers, aiming to break his story by changing direction and the type of question they asked. This also allowed the officers to spend time on the tedious job of listening to their recordings on earphones and transcribing them on to Record of Interview sheets. They analysed their
j J
results in between sessions and considered the next strategy. Besides, the interviewers needed a rest, too, after an hour with Harry Dickinson.
‘Look, Harry, we all know that old men sometimes Jeel randy too. Your sexual urges don’t disappear altogether, do they? Eh, Harry? Not like some people think. I suppose the young girls still get you excited, don’t they?’
DI Hitchens was leaning across the table, staring into Harry’s face. He was watching jot a crack in the impassiveJacade, probing and pushing for a reaction.
‘It’s just not a nice thought, is it, that your old granddad might be lusting after the young women like he always used to when he was young? Best to pretend it doesn’t happen, eh? Sweep it under the carpet and keep quiet. What you don’t know about doesn’t hurt. But we know better, don’t we, Harry?’
Harry said nothing, secure in his superior experience, looking at Hitchens as if he were a simpleton.
‘Because sometimes it goes too Jar, doesn’t it? Sometimes you just can’t control yourself. Can you, Harry?’
The old man raised an eyebrow dismissively, suggesting that he knew more than a thing or two about control.
All the interviewers had been trained to use the proper interviewing techniques. Open questions were the key to the GEM AC procedure — Greeting, Explanation, Mutual Activity, Closure. The aim was to create spiral questions — open questions such as who, what, why, when, where and how, followed by probing
311
of the answers. The theory was that if someone was inventing a story, 11 was almost impossible lo mauiLaiu a lie under detailed probing.
As for closed questions, which invited only a single-word rcplv — they were too much of a temptation for someone like Harrv.
‘We have the statement of a .Mr dary Edwards, a bird-watcher, who saw a person answering your description passing along the path near the place where Laura Vernon’s body wasjbund. A person accompanied by a dog. Was that you, Mr Dickinson?’
