‘I can get sex any time I want.’
‘Doesn’t look that way to us. You were quickly reduced to pay and display, or starve.’
‘I do all right.’
‘You are an angry man with a quick temper, a man who blatantly writes threatening messages late at night to vulnerable women living alone, and I quote again, “I could strangle you”, and lo and behold what happens, that same threatened lady is murdered in her own home.’
‘You’re firing blanks, Darriteau. Is that the best you’ve got, because you’ve got bugger all! Charge me or let me go.’
‘Is your wife back?’
‘Eh?’
‘You heard the Inspector.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘No, not yet, and don’t ask me where she is, for I have no idea.’
‘When she returns could you ask her to ring me?’ and Walter slipped his card cross the desk.
‘Will I fuck!’
‘Thanks for your help Mr Speight, that’s all for today.’
Speight sighed and looked surprised and said, ‘You mean I can go?’
Walter nodded. ‘For now. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to tell us.’
‘I’ve got bugger all to say to you two,’ and he kicked the chair back, muttering something about seeing his solicitor, and then he was gone.
‘That was a complete waste of time,’ said Karen.
‘You think?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No, not entirely. Mrs West said we keep asking them questions until they trip themselves up.’
‘So?’
‘We have, and he didn’t, and that’s probably because he’s telling the truth. I don’t believe Speight’s the killer.’
‘So who do you think is?’
‘More and more likely it looks like the fifth man.’
They exchanged glances and Karen knew the question that was coming next. She pre-empted it.
‘I’m on the tech now.’
Walter nodded. ‘How’s Nicky getting on?’
‘He’s going through Bel’s finances. Nothing so far.’
‘Crack on with it, KG.’
‘Will do, Guv.’
CORLA REVELATION SAT alone in her house. The radio was on, but it always was, because Corla liked to keep fresh with the up-to-date tracks. The set was permanently tuned to the pirate station, Dee Bee Cee, and there was a solid reason for that. The station was owned and run by young blokes who happened to be good friends of her two nieces. Many of the local families rarely listened to anything else.
DBC pumped out mainly non-stop music, not just current stuff, but classics going back to the sixties, but in between the sounds there was a surprisingly decent news round up. Just as pirate stations have always done, those news stories were blatantly cribbed from the BBC, ITN, and SKY, and the local radio stations too.
The catchy on-the-hour station signature tune came on, and Corla hummed along. The news would follow in a second, as it always did, and the lead story could only be the Chester baseball bat murder, for nothing like it had happened in the city for quite some time.
There had been slight developments too. A little more information had been released. The deceased woman; named as thirty-six year old Belinda Cooper, resided not far from Corla, in a wide and pleasant street called Berryland Avenue. And there was more too. A twenty thousand pound reward had been put up by a local solicitor, one Gareth Williams, available to anyone who could provide information to bring the perpetrator to justice.
A radio station run by her nieces’ friends, a news item pinched from legit broadcasters, a murder in a house not so far away, and a decent reward now on offer, four facts that didn’t have a great deal to do with one another, but combined and sent through the airwaves, and out of Corla’s modern radio, and swishing through her dyed blonde hair, and down her ears, and into her brain, and suddenly everything became crystal clear.
She remembered it all. She remembered everything. She had seen the killer on the night of the murder, and could identify him too, if required. She’d always known she’d become involved in the case, and now she had. She opened her diary and spotted the direct number for Chester central police station, she’d used it several times before, and carefully dabbed in the number. A minute later, and the call found its way to DC Darren Gibbons.
Thirty-One
Walter and Karen came back from the interview room. Gibbons was talking on the phone. He stood up and waved and caught their attention. They heard him say, ‘Yes, someone will be with you in about twenty minutes. Yes. Don’t go out, we’re on our way now.’
‘What?’ said Walter.
‘Witness, Guv, says she saw the murderer coming out of Belinda’s house on the night of the murder.’
‘Fan-bloody-tastic! What’s her name?’
‘Bit of an unusual one. Corla Revelation, so she says.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Warren Drive, number 20, not far from Bel’s house.’
‘Car, Guv?’ said Karen, not wanting to miss out on a thing.
Walter nodded. ‘I’ll be down in a sec,’ and he hurried across to Mrs West’s room and tapped on the open door, and held it open and peeped around the side, and brought Mrs West up to speed.
‘Let’s hope she’s not a time-waster,’ said Mrs West, staring at her crammed screen of multi-coloured spreadsheets.
‘We’re overdue a break, ma’am, this could be it.’
‘Hope so, my man, keep me posted.’
KAREN GRABBED A NEWISH navy blue BMW, no police markings, as he liked them, though for once they weren’t interested in the car.
Karen said, ‘We have to drive down Berryland to get to Warren Drive,’ and ten minutes later they were doing precisely that. Outside Belinda’s house a solitary Community Support Officer stood guard, while on the verge were two large grey vans, lots of personnel in the house, working hard, beavering away, seeking vital intel. A couple of minutes later, and they pulled into Warren Drive, a very similar suburban road packed with
