Chapter 12
Maria Cidade had spent three hours at Challis Street. Isaac had phoned the pathologist to pass on the information about Rodrigo Fuentes’ broken arm. Eventually she had left; Isaac would pass on the inevitable news at a later time.
The pathologist, after checking, confirmed that the body on his autopsy table was almost certainly the missing Brazilian, but one hundred per cent confirmation would only come when a DNA sample from his parents in Brazil arrived.
The Homicide team needed no official report to know that they had Fuentes’ body.
Alex Hughenden arrived at Challis Street on time. The interview room had been booked for him. Isaac and Larry would represent the police. Hughenden declined legal representation.
Isaac conducted the formalities before commencing. ‘We are interested in your relationship with Devlin O’Shaughnessy,’ Isaac asked.
‘There’s nothing to tell you. The man was a friend, and I rented a house to him.’
‘A friend who is involved in drug dealing and murder?’
‘I don’t judge my friends on what you may say they are guilty of.’
‘The man had money, yet you never asked where it came from?’ Larry asked.
‘Why should I? Do you judge your friends, decide if they’re worthy to let into your house?’ Hughenden replied.
‘We are asking the questions,’ Isaac reminded the man.
‘Devlin was an educated man. Of course, he may not have looked it, but he could converse about art and literature. It’s not often that you meet people who can.’
Isaac realised they did not have anything on Hughenden. The man sat back in his chair, his arms folded. He knew that he could deal with the two police officers sitting across from him.
They’ve got nothing on me, he thought. Hughenden knew he had no criminal record, apart from a minor offence in his youth, no involvement with the law apart from the time his place was broken into. He knew he was superior in intellect to the men who were interviewing him.
He did have one worry, but he did not intend to reveal it in the police station at Challis Street. Why was O’Shaughnessy taking instructions from the man, when the arrangement had always been clear? It had always been agreed that he, Alex Hughenden, would deal with the day-to-day running of the business and that the man was not to have any contact with the people he employed. And how did the man have his former friend’s phone number. He was certain that was what Devlin was now. Not only was he avoiding his phone calls, but he was also conducting business deals without him.
Hughenden had heard about the vehicle coming over from France from the driver. He had only contacted him when Devlin had short-changed him on the money they’d agreed. Something to do with a short shipment which could only mean one of two things: the driver was taking some of the merchandise for himself, or O’Shaughnessy was on the fiddle. Hughenden was sure of the answer.
He could see that something would have to be done, but he needed to get out of the police station.
‘According to the Serious and Organised Crime Command, you are under suspicion,’ Larry said. He did not like the look of the man sitting opposite him. His sixth sense suspected the man knew more, and he had met his type before. To him, Hughenden represented the worst kind of criminal: educated and able to use their intellect to fool the police and to organise major crimes. People like Hughenden never dirtied their hands with the grubby side of the business; that was left to others.
‘Where did O’Shaughnessy acquire this knowledge?’ Larry asked.
‘About what?’ Hughenden replied.
‘Art and literature.’
‘He’s a great reader.’
‘In prison?’
‘We never spoke about his time in jail, but it’s possible.’
‘What did you talk about ?’
Hughenden thought to himself, stay calm with this buffoon. He’s attempting to provoke me.
‘Art and literature.’
‘I put it to you that you were masterminding the whole operation, and that you knew full well of O’Shaughnessy’s involvement in the drug trade.’
‘That’s slanderous, and you know it.’ Hughenden could feel his pulse racing. He forced himself to relax. One word said incorrectly, and the police would be looking further into his business affairs. There was still enough evidence of his fencing stolen jewellery, if only they looked.
‘O’Shaughnessy and Walters are not capable of pulling off an operation of this size,’ Isaac said.
‘Am I guilty by association?’ Hughenden replied indignantly, realising that he was letting the two men get to him.
‘You have the intelligence to do it.’
Hughenden cleared his throat. ‘Let’s be clear. I have no criminal record, no history of violence. I’m a solid member of the community who goes to church every Sunday and gives to charity.’
‘So did Al Capone,’ Larry said.
‘Do you want to repeat that outside of this police station?’ Hughenden replied. His blood was seething at this penniless upstart. If he wasn’t a policeman…, he thought.
‘DI Hill spoke out of frustration. If, as you say, you are a pillar of society, your associations are disturbing,’ Isaac said.
‘DCI Cook is right,’ Larry said. ‘Defence based on a person’s good character will hold little weight in a Court of Law. It may mediate the sentence, but it does not absolve the person of guilt.’
‘Am I defending myself? From what?’
‘That you are involved in the importation of large quantities of heroin and cocaine into this country, and that you have set up an elaborate network to distribute them.’
‘Preposterous. What proof do you have?’
Len Donaldson had asked to be present. Isaac had put him off as he was interested in bringing a murderer to justice. He now regretted that decision. There was something about Hughenden that didn’t ring true, Isaac knew, but there was no proof, only supposition, and as
