'Yes.'
'Do you own -'
'Yes, I said yes.'
'My client,' Murchfield intervened, 'would appreciate a break at this time. It's now very nearly -'
But Karen cut him off with a brusque, 'I'm sure he would,' followed by, 'I wonder, Mr Kennet, if you could identify this?'
Ramsden held up the necklace, secure inside a plastic evidence bag.
Kennet paled. 'No,' he said, 'I've no idea.'
'Or this?'
The earring.
'No.' A vigorous shake of the head.
'Or this?'
The bracelet.
'No.'
'Mr Kennet, these items were found in the boot of your car.'
Recovering, Kennet shifted heavily in his seat and shrugged. 'Nothing to do with me. I've never seen them before.'
'Secure in your car, carefully wrapped and hidden away.'
Kennet stared back at her, silent, sullen.
'Where you left them.'
'Jesus, I just told you -'
'You've told me nothing.'
'Okay, I'll tell you again. These things, they're nothin' to do with me. I've never seen 'em before, okay?'
'You've no idea how they came to be in your possession?'
'They weren't in my fucking possession.'
'They were in your car.'
'Says who?'
Ramsden smiled. 'Says me.'
'Then you fucking put 'em there.'
Karen leaned back away from the desk. There was sweat accumulating in the palms of her hands and she wiped them against her trouser legs. Sweat in the air, too: hers, his, everyone's.
'A little over an hour ago,' Karen said, 'one of my officers showed this bracelet to Jennifer McLaughlin and she identified it as hers.'
A pulse, Elder noticed, had begun to tick in the corner of Kennet's left eye.
'This earring,' Karen said, holding up the evidence bag, 'was identified by Jane Forest as belonging to her.'
'So?'
'Jennifer McLaughlin and Jane Forest, both women with whom you have had relationships.'
Kennet stared back at her, unblinking.
'So can you explain how these items came to be hidden away inside your car?'
'No. I can't. Except that someone put them there.'
'And that someone, Mr Kennet, was you.'
Kennet swung round on his chair, his knee knocking against Murchfield's leg, the impact jarring the pen from the solicitor's hand.
'You,' Kennet said, 'when are you going to do something instead of just sitting there while they do me fucking over?'
Murchfield stammered, blushed, reached down to retrieve his pen.
'There is one further item,' Karen said, almost succeeding in keeping the tone of virtual triumph from her voice as she dangled the watch, in its bag, in front of Kennet's face.
'This watch. Maddy Birch's watch. You can see her name clearly engraved, there on the back. You see? You see the name, Mr Kennet? The name and date? Mr Kennet, for the tape recorder please? Do you agree that the name on the back is that of Maddy Birch?'
'Yes.'
'That this watch belonged to her?'
'Yes.'
'Can you then tell me, how it came into your possession?'
Kennet looked back at her and shook his head.
'Mr Kennet?'
'No. No, I can't.'
'Well, I suggest to you that she was wearing it the night she was killed.'
'I don't know.'
'And that was when you took it from her body.'
'No.'
'After you had raped her.'
'No.'
'Murdered her.'
'No.' The sweat on Kennet's forehead was clearly visible now, his upper body rolling a little, side to side, as if he were being punched.
'Mr Kennet, I put it to you, on the night of Wednesday the twenty-sixth to Thursday the twenty-seventh of November, in the vicinity of Crouch End Community Centre, you attacked and raped Maddy Birch, then stabbed her repeatedly with a knife until she was dead.'
'No.'
'She was wearing this watch, wasn't she? That evening?'
Kennet raised both hands, clenched, and as Karen sat quickly back out of range and Ramsden threw out an arm to ward off a possible blow, he brought them down full force on the centre of the desk.
'She couldn't have been wearing the watch. Not then. I'd already taken it, weeks before.'
Karen brought her breathing back under control. 'Say that again.'
'The watch, I'd already taken it. Weeks before.'
'And how did you do that?'
'I broke into her flat. When she wasn't there.'
'When was this?'
'End of October some time. Tuesday, Wednesday, I don't know. Middle of the week.'
'And had you done this before?'
'Broken in? Yes, but not there. Not Maddy's place. Others. Jane. Jennifer.' He almost smiled.
'And each time, you take away what? A souvenir?'
'Yes. I mean, not always, no.'
'Nothing else?'
'How d'you mean?'
'You don't take anything else?'
'Not take, no.'
'What then?'
'I don't know, I… sometimes I just stand there. Not doing anything. Sometimes, you know, look at things.'
'What kind of things?'
Kennet shrugged; now he was talking he was more at ease. 'Depends. Clothes. Diaries, sometimes. Anything.'
'Panties,' Ramsden suggested scornfully. 'Knickers. Underwear.'
'Sometimes.'
'Jerk off into them, do you?'
