Bell’s face flushed and glistened. ‘You don’t know that. You can’t. Otherwise he’d be locked away as well.’
‘There’s knowing, Christine, and there’s proving. It wasn’t my operation, but I know it as if it were after reading through the case file and talking to the investigating officers. They went after him for doling out the fatal blows on that night. Then along comes George Moss, says Watson was at his place at the time. That was in Huntingdon, not too far away from where Watson lived with the woman and her son. But according to Mr Alibi here, he and Watson were together from early evening until long after that little boy succumbed to his final hiding. The moment the investigators could no longer push that angle, the case for proving Watson’s involvement over time also fell apart. Especially after the kid’s mother coughed to the lot, absolving Watson of any and all responsibility.’
‘There you go, then!’ Moss cried, a hand tossed carelessly in the air. ‘What more do you people need? She says he never hurt the kid, not once. Then she says she laid into her son that night while Neil was with me. You wanted to bang him up, and when you fucked up you decided to try to fit him up instead. Don’t listen to him, Chris. You’ll only ever hear lies from his sort.’
Bliss wiped a hand across his face; it came back slick. ‘Christ, it’s hot enough to boil a monkey’s arse in here. Listen to me, George. Whether I’m with the police or not really isn’t the point. Why did you lie for him that night, and why did you meet him for a drink today?’
‘What?’ Bell turned, hands on hips, her face rapidly turning crimson. ‘You told me you were at work all day!’
‘Yeah, well, I stopped off on my way home to see Neil. What of it?’
‘You didn’t tell me, is what. You made it seem like you came straight home.’
‘What the fuck does it matter? I met him. We had a couple of pints. Big fucking deal!’
‘Why today?’ Bliss wanted to know. ‘Why did you need to see him today?’
‘I don’t see how that’s any of your business. In fact, I don’t even know why you’re still here. You’re the filth. You ain’t got no right to be here. So why don’t you fuck right off?’
Bliss took a breath. Calmed himself. ‘On the contrary, George. I have every right to be here. It was Miss Bell who invited me in. This is her home. Her name on the rent book.’
Anger creasing his features, Moss turned to Bell, a desperate look in his eyes. ‘Tell him, Chris. Tell him to go fuck himself and leave us alone.’
She swallowed a couple of times, blinking as if she was having trouble seeing him clearly for the first time. Bliss noticed tears in her eyes and knew he’d got through. Eventually she shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t think I will, George. I think I want to know more.’
‘Why? Because this prick says so?’
‘No. Because I’m not sure if I believe you.’
For a moment, Bliss thought Moss might launch himself at her. Tensing, he readied himself to get between them if needed. But he decided it would be safer to remove her from the equation. ‘Miss Bell,’ he said, keeping a watchful eye on Moss. ‘You mentioned a child earlier. Is he with you? Here in the flat?’
‘No. He’s at my mum’s.’
‘Close by?’
‘Yeah, not far.’
‘Good. Then you can do us all a favour. We need to take some of the tension out of this situation – plus, I need to speak freely with George. Take yourself off to your mum’s place. Spend an hour or so there while me and George get to know one another better.’
‘Chris… take no notice of this bloke.’ Moss looked terrified, his voice high and pleading. ‘You stick around. I want a witness.’
But Christine Bell seemed to realise something was not quite right; it was as if she instinctively knew there was more to this story. And Bliss could tell she wanted no part of it, no matter who or what Moss was to her.
Less than five minutes later, the two of them were alone together. Moss had collapsed into an armchair the moment Bell closed the front door behind her, as if doing so might somehow prevent what was about to happen.
Bliss remained on his feet. He stepped closer until he was looming over the frightened figure. ‘I don’t know what kind of man you were before you agreed to alibi Watson,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘I don’t know what kind of man you’ve become since. But I do know what kind of man you can be, George.’
‘Yeah? What’s that?’
‘A better one. A smarter one. The kind of man who finally tells the truth. Because I think that truth has been weighing on you. See, I reckon Watson wanted to meet with you today to find out if he could still rely on you. He’s in trouble, George. Starting to feel the pressure I’m applying. He needs to make sure your story remains the same and will hold up to further scrutiny.’
‘And it will. Because it’s the truth.’
‘So you say. Fair enough. But you know, there are two things wrong with that.’ Bliss paused, waiting for Moss’s eyes to find and hold his own. ‘First, if Watson is starting to get anxious, he might suspect you’ll fold completely once the necessary weight is applied. I don’t reckon he’s a man to take things on trust, George. Sooner or later, he’ll come to the conclusion that you’re a problem he needs to deal with.
‘Second, there’s me. See, whatever you may think I am, whatever you may think I do, right now it’s just
