Blood At The Root

obvious he knew who they were, even if he hadn’t been expecting them. He put the packet of cigarettes on the table and sat in the other armchair. “What about?” he asked.

“Jason. We’d have thought you might have got in touch with us, you know, since Jason died.”

“Jason what?” Shirelle burst in. She looked at Mark. “Jason’s dead? You never told me that.”

Mark shrugged.

“Well?” Susan asked.

“Well, what?”

“What do you have to say? Even if your wife didn’t know, you knew Jason was dead, didn’t you?”

“Read about it in the paper. But it’s nothing to do with me, is it?”

“Isn’t it? You were there, Mark. You were in Eastvale drinking with Jason. You left the Jubilee with him shortly after closing time. What we want to know is what happened next.”

“I was never there,” Mark said. “I was here. At home. Now we’ve got little Connor, I don’t get out as much as I used to. I can’t just leave Sheri alone with him all the time, can I? Besides, as you can probably tell, we’re a bit short of the readies, too.”

“I’ll bet you own a car, though, don’t you?”

“Just an old banger. A van. I need it for the business.”

“Designing Web pages?”

“That’s not all we do. We do a bit of retail, refurbish systems, set up networks, troubleshoot, that sort of thing.”

“So you haven’t been out dealing drugs for a while?”

“You know about that, do you?”

“We do our research. What do you expect?”

Mark shifted in his chair and shot a quick glance at Shirelle. “Yeah, well, it was years ago now. It’s behind me. I’ve been clean ever since.”

“Were you selling drugs at the Jubilee last Saturday night?”

“No. I told you. I wasn’t even there. Besides, I served my time.”

“You’re right,” said Susan. “Nine months, if I read the record right. It’s nice to know there really is such a thing as rehabilitation. That’s not what we’re interested in anyway. All we care about is what happened to Jason Fox. What about the Albion League, Mark? Are you a member?”

Mark scoffed. “That bunch of wankers? That was Jason’s thing. Not mine.” He looked at Shirelle. “Or isn’t that obvious enough to you already?”

“Did Jason ever introduce you to their leader, Neville Motcombe, or any of the other members?”

“No. He kept asking me to go to meetings, but that’s all. I think he picked up that I wasn’t really interested.”

“But the two of you produced the Web page for them.”

“Jason did that in his spare time. By himself. Thought it was a good idea to put the company’s logo at the bottom. Said it could bring us more business.” He shrugged. “Business is business, even if some of it does come from crackpots.”

“And did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Bring in more business?”

“Nah. Not much. To be honest, I think hardly anyone even looked at it. I mean, would you?”

“But you were friends with Jason, too, weren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t really say that.”

“I understand he provided the capital to start the business?”

Mark looked at Shirelle. Susan guessed he was probably trying to work out exactly what his wife had told them already.

“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t have any money, but Jason put in a few hundred quid, just to get us going. Only a loan, mind you.”

“So you wouldn’t say you were friends?”

“No. It’s not as if we actually socialized together.”

“But you were socializing last Saturday night in East-vale.”

“I told you, I wasn’t there. I was here all evening.”

“Didn’t you even nip out for a jar?” Susan asked. “Shirelle here said she thought you might have done.”

Mark looked to his wife for guidance. “I… I don’t…” she said. “They’ve been confusing me, Mark. Was it Saturday? I don’t remember. I only said he might have gone out for a few minutes.”

“Did you go out, Mark?” Susan repeated.

“No,” said Mark. Then he turned to Shirelle. “Don’t you remember, love, when we went in town shopping in the afternoon, we picked up a couple of bottles at the offie, then we rented that Steven Seagal video and we just stayed in and watched it. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” said Shirelle. “Yes, I remember now. We stayed in and watched a video together.”

Susan ignored Shirelle; she was lying again. And she thought it interesting that no matter how poor people seemed, how short of the “readies” they were, they always had enough money for booze, cigarettes, videos and pets. Cars, even. “So you weren’t in Eastvale at all last Saturday night, then, Mark?”

Mark shook his head. “No.”

“I suppose the video rental shop will have a record?”

“I suppose so. They’re computerized, all the latest gear, so they ought to. I never asked. I mean, I didn’t think anyone would be interested.”

“But you could still be lying, couldn’t you?” Susan went on. “In fact, it doesn’t matter at all whether you rented a video on Saturday afternoon or not, does it? You could have gone to Eastvale on Saturday evening, met Jason in the Jubilee and booted him to death. You could have watched the video after you got home.”

“I told you. I didn’t do anything of the sort. I wasn’t anywhere near there. Besides, why would I do a thing like that? I already told you, Jason was my business partner. Why would I kill the goose that lays the golden eggs?”

“You tell me. I understand you were going to dump him?”

Again, Mark looked at Shirelle, who stared into her lap.

“Look,” he said, “I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t anywhere near Eastvale. I’ve never even been there in my life.”

Suddenly, Hatchley lurched to his feet, making even Susan jump. “Let’s cut the bollocks, lad,” he said, putting his notebook back in his inside pocket. “We know you were there. People saw you in the pub. And we’ve got a clear set of your fingerprints on the murder weapon. What have you got to say about that?”

Mark looked from side to side, as if seeking an escape route. Shirelle started to cry. “Oh, Mark…” she wailed. “What can we do?”

“Shut up blubbering,” he said, then turned back to Susan and Hatchley. “I want a lawyer.”

“Later,” said Hatchley. “First, we’re going to fill a plastic bag with your shoes and clothes, then we’re going to go back to Eastvale for a nice long chat in a proper police interview room. How do you feel about that?”

Mark said nothing.

Connor stirred in his cot and started to cry.

V

“Tell me one thing,” Banks said. “Why the hell have you dragged me all the way to Amsterdam?”

Burgess smiled, flipped open his tin of Tom Thumb cigars and selected one. “Everything will be made clear in