He frowned, concentration knitting his brows and drawing down the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said at last, shaking his head. ‘Like you said, it was all shock and panic. Not just because of the kind of crime they were talking about, but because . . . well, because I was such a sad fucking closet case and I realised that the life I’d had was over. Whatever happened about Lyle, I was going to lose my family.’
‘Because of your sexuality.’
His eyes glistened with emotion. ‘Yes. And I was right.
My father hasn’t spoken to me since the day I was arrested. Neither of my parents visited me when I was on remand or since I was convicted. My sister writes to me, but she doesn’t visit either. I lost everything, and all over something I didn’t do.’
His pain was obvious. She knew that feeling, loss and anger and nowhere to put it. Carol knew better than to rush to judgement, but what she thought she recognised in Saul Neilson was an innocent man. ‘Maybe we can fix at least some of that.’
‘I don’t see how. Unless some new evidence fell out of the sky.’
‘Not yet.’ She opened the file of papers she’d brought in with her. ‘I’ve been reading the files relating to your case. And I’ve been reading them in a particular way. What we call “walking back the cat”.’
‘I don’t know what that even means.’
‘It means tracing something back to its dubious origins and figuring out the steps along the way. In this instance, it’s about looking for what’s not there.’
He scratched his jaw. ‘How do you look for what’s not there? And if it’s not there, how do you know you’ve found it?’
It was a good question. What was that poem Tony always quoted at them? ‘Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there. He wasn’t there again today. Oh, how I wish he’d go away.’ But the only way to make him disappear was to shine a light on him. ‘Experience. You’re a landscape architect, right?’
‘You know that, why ask?’
She gave a rueful smile. ‘Force of habit. Always check. I imagine when you look at a project, you know instinctively what would complete it? It’s the same for me. I read a court file and I think, What would I have asked that these detectives didn’t ask? I was lucky – I used to work with a detective who had an extraordinary talent for interviewing and I learned a lot from watching her. So I bring a lot of experience to the table.’
He was alert now, head cocked, assessing her. ‘And what did your experience show you was missing in my file?’
‘I’ve not dug deep into all of it yet,’ she admitted. ‘But there’s one thing I would have asked in that first interview that isn’t there. And I can’t see the answer to it anywhere in the case papers.’
‘So what’s this big question the Bradfield cops didn’t manage to ask me?’ There was a challenge in his expression now, an engagement that hadn’t been there earlier.
‘It’s not a big question. But it might have a big answer. Did Lyle Tate say anything about where he was going after he left you?’
40
A profile only has investigative value. Not probative. It’s guidance, not evidence. But for detectives attempting to accumulate evidence, it can often point them in directions they hadn’t fully considered.
From Reading Crimes by DR TONY HILL
Steve Nisbet was dangerously close to too close to Paula. ‘Why’s Karim doing the interview with you?’ he demanded. ‘It was our interview that put Keenan in the frame, not his. I’ve seen his report. He didn’t even ask the priest about the other bodies.’
Paula gave him her hardest stare, refusing to speak till he backed away a half-step. ‘When it comes to the conduct of interviews, you do not question my decisions, Sergeant.’ She placed the emphasis on his rank.
He glared back at her, breathing heavily through his nose. ‘Fine.’ He turned on his heel and stalked off.
From over her shoulder, Karim spoke quietly. ‘I don’t mind if you’d rather use Steve.’
‘Don’t you start questioning me, Karim. Shouting or whispering, it comes down to the same thing. Come on, Keenan’s had long enough with his lawyer. It’s time to get this show on the road.’ Paula headed out of the squad room towards the interview room.
‘How do we play this?’ he asked, hot on her heels.
‘I’ll take the lead. You make a show of writing down some of the things he says. It doesn’t much matter which things, it’s all about unsettling him. Making him think we know more than we do.’
At the door to the interview room, Paula paused, fingertips on the door handle. She took a deep breath, allowed herself to consider what she knew and what she believed about Father Michael Keenan, then walked in, barely sparing him a glance. She didn’t recognise the lawyer, a worn-looking woman in her forties in a jacket that was too tight in the shoulders and upper arms. Paula had a sneaking suspicion she didn’t give a flying fuck about it.
Karim pressed the buttons and everyone recited their name for the tape. Before Paula could ask the first question, Keenan was right in there. ‘I want to make an official protest about the way I’ve
