“Who is it?” a tinny gruff voice asks.
They introduce themselves and hold their IDs up towards the camera, but receive nothing in return. Seconds later, the black door opens and there stands a six-foot man with a buzz cut in a dressing gown far too small for him, showing off four or five strands of dark curly hairs on his chest. It’s almost laughable. He looks like Biff from Back To The Future, McNally almost smirks.
“Hello, detectives. How can I help you?” Billy Taylor looks sheepish, like they’ve caught him doing something he isn’t supposed to be doing.
“We’d just like to ask you a few questions, may we come in?”
Nodding, he stands back to let them through, before apologising and excusing himself, climbing what looks like floating shelves as stairs to change into something a bit more appropriate. They gaze around at the room he had pointed them into. A large glass table with coffee coloured leather chairs either side of it. The walls adorning classical paintings and pictures that make you want to cock your head to the side to see if that makes you understand them any better. A big, empty house. Devoid of laughter. A complete contrast to Boyle’s. The more people who fear you, the lonelier you are, McNally thinks.
Moments later, Taylor returns downstairs, sporting a more presentable pair of jeans and a navy jumper. He shakes their hands and gestures for them to sit.
“How can I help you tonight?”
It looks like his house isn’t the only thing that’s the opposite to Boyle, McNally registers. Boyle is a pompous, arrogant show off, or a slimy weasel, as McNally would like to call him. Whereas Taylor is calm and collected, actually quite polite… He doesn’t come across as your typical baddie, but then again there have been psychopaths before that have presented themselves as the most charming people in the world.
“I think you know why we’re here,” McNally begins, giving him a nudge to see what he thinks they know.
“I’m judging it’s to do with finding Aaron Parker’s body?”
At least he isn’t trying to feign ignorance.
“It is,” Ferguson nods.
“Should I be worried?” he chuckles, an arm inside the neck of his jumper, caressing his armpit distractedly.
“Just doing some follow up questioning since we’re opening a murder enquiry,” McNally narrows his eyes at him, a subtle smile on his face, “can I ask you, please, Mr Taylor, if you attended the charity night at the Waterfoot Hotel on June 18th 2016, the night Aaron Parker went missing?”
“I did.”
Without hesitation, he wasn’t expecting this.
“And is it true that you were trying to seduce him into abandoning his party and joining the Ulster Jacks?”
He closes his eyes for a few seconds, before reopening them, focusing his attention between the detective’s heads, on the back wall. Like he’s trying to remember a recital.
“I’m not sure ‘seducing’ is the word I would use, personally. But, yes. We were trying to get him on board. He was getting young people involved. Are you aware of the contrast between young and old people that turn out to their polling stations? It’s frightening. I wanted him to join us, only a fool wouldn’t. Together, we would’ve been an unbreakable force… He was our missing link.”
He cocks his head to the side when his attention returns to their faces.
“Sorry, but I can’t help but to feel like I’ve said all of this already. To a Detective Inspector Quigley, if I remember correctly. Should I be contacting my solicitor?”
“Not at all,” Ferguson fake laughs, “this is an informal chat, after all.”
Taylor nods and tells them to proceed, seemingly relaxing.
“You see, we’ve had some new evidence come to light as of late… Including a few eyewitness accounts from that night,” McNally stares into his face, “saying you were being quite abrasive with Mr Parker.”
“Oh?”
Is he sweating, or is it the shine from the chandelier above their heads?
“Aye, seems that you didn’t like taking no for an answer. Is that true?”
Taylor shuffles about in the seat uncomfortably.
“Well, I was worried about my party’s reputation and future, obviously. I didn’t want to be overpowered by a busy body like him.”
“’A busy body?’ Why, just seconds ago you were calling him your missing link.”
“He had no political background; he was an independent party… He just had the gift of the gab…”
He’s definitely sweating, droplets running down the side of his ears.
“Something wrong, Mr Taylor? You do look awfully hot.”
“It’s just this jumper,” he flusters, pulling it from his neck, “and with the small windows this house can retain heat awfully easily… Hence why I was in my dressing gown when you arrived. Save a fortune on my heating bill, though. Excuse me whilst I get myself a drink, would you two like anything?”
The detectives look at each other triumphantly after they decline. Several moments later, he returns with a glass of water, a slither left at the bottom.
“So, what other new evidence do you think we have?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
“Nothing you’d like to own up to? Maybe tell us why Mr Parker’s phone was found in the bushes surrounding the hotel a few weeks after he went missing?”
Taylor looks stumped, just sitting in silence. If he’s lying, he’s a fucking brilliant actor, McNally thinks. Both McNally and Ferguson know from reports that the mobile phone was free of any prints, was that intentional? Wiped clean and left there to deter the investigation away from somewhere else?
“We’ve heard from a source that when Mr Parker declined your advances that night, twice, that you had him picked up. Kidnapped, I think the word they used was… From outside the hotel, away from any CCTV to keep your nose clean, of course. Now, why would someone come to us with such accusations? What would give them that idea?”
It’s like a switch has gone on inside Taylor. His face darkens and he sits forward, chuckling demonically. This must be the sinister side
