As Ellen Destry left the room and walked down the corridor to the stairs, Challis caught up to her and murmured, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine, Hal.’
‘You look ragged. Everything all right at home?’
He was someone you could confide in. His own pain made him a reliable listener. She wanted to tell him how she’d taken the safe route in her personal life, putting her husband first; about the ache she felt, driving into the car park and not seeing Rhys Hartnett at work at the courthouse next door. But time would heal that, so they could all get fucked, and all she said to Challis was, ‘Boss, you look a bit ragged yourself.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Okay, I want your help in the interview room. I’ve sent Scobie back to the caravan park to see if the backpack’s still there and to follow up on those gypsies.’
‘That backpack’s a long shot, Hal. I’ve seen them around myself.’
‘After this much time’s elapsed in a murder inquiry,’ Challis said, ‘everything’s a long shot.’
Danny Holsinger had been taken to an interview room next to the holding cells. Boyd Jolic and Craig Oliver were also in the building, in separate interview rooms. All three men had been arrested and brought in separately. Challis pushed into the interview room, Ellen behind him.
Danny was sitting at a small table. A uniformed probationary constable had been standing guard on the door. She moved back into position as Challis sat opposite Danny. Ellen moved around until she was standing behind him. There was a smell of industrial cleaning agents in the room, and a tide mark of grime at mop-head height around the base of the glossy white walls.
Challis began by giving Danny an official caution, then said, ‘Danny, this is a preliminary interview. If all goes well, we’ll make a formal record of interview, with tape and video.’
‘Why, what’ve I done?’
‘Let’s see-aggravated burglary, arson on a house, theft of a motor vehicle, arson of a motor vehicle, and murder.’
Danny swallowed. ‘Murder?’
Ellen put her hands on Danny’s shoulders and leaned her head close to the back of his neck. She breathed shallowly. Danny didn’t strike her as dirty by nature, but he had been emptying recycle crates since 5 a.m. and been arrested before he could go home and shower and change. ‘Murder, Danny, that’s right.’
He tried to turn around to look at her, but she kept sidestepping away. He faced Challis. ‘You must be mad. I got nabbed the other day for burglary. And before Christmas. That’s my style, not murder. Whose murder?’
Challis put an evidence bag containing a Fosters Lager can on the table between them. ‘Danny, we found your prints all over this.’
‘So?’
‘Right where a Mitsubishi Pajero was set alight in Chicory Kiln Road. The same vehicle was stolen earlier by two men fleeing the scene of an aggravated burglary. Perhaps you can explain your connection to the Pajero?’
‘I never took it.’
‘Who did? One of your mates? Boyd Jolic? Craig Oliver?’
Ellen sensed a wariness in Danny’s shoulders. She leaned close to his ear again. ‘They’re here, Danny. They sold you out.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Your mates have sold you out.’
‘Nup, don’t believe it. Sold me out about what?’
He sounded more certain than she would have liked. She looked to Challis to continue.
‘So you didn’t take the Pajero. Fine. But you helped to burn it.’
‘Nup.’
‘You were there, Danny. Your prints on this can of lager prove it.’
‘Nup. I drive the recycle truck along Chicory Kiln Road once a week. I must’ve chucked the can out the window.’
‘Your employers won’t be pleased to know that you drink on the job.’
Danny tried to backpedal. ‘Maybe I took a bird up there the other night. Yeah, that’s it.’
Challis pushed a sheet of paper and a pen across the desk. ‘Name and address.’
‘What?’
‘Of this bird you took to Chicory Kiln Road.’
‘Can’t remember. Must of been someone I picked up in the pub. Yeah, that’s it, I remember now.’
Ellen said softly in his ear, ‘Megan Stokes won’t be very pleased.’
Danny jumped in his chair. ‘How do you know about her?’
‘We know everything about you, Dan old son.’
‘You leave her out of this. She’ll bloody kill me.’
‘Like you killed Clara Macris?’
‘Who?’
‘You know, Danny, it’s been in all the papers and on the box. The woman murdered and burnt in Quarterhorse Lane. In fact, two of our officers saw you there the next day. A killer going back to the scene of the crime, that’s what it looked like.’
‘No!’
‘The Pajero, Danny. Tell us about it.’
‘All right, all right. Me and me mates were coming back from the pub, you know, a short cut, and we saw something burning. We got closer and saw it was this four-wheel drive by the side of the road.’
‘You didn’t try to extinguish the fire?’
‘What?’
‘Put the fire out?’
‘Didn’t have nothing to put it out with.’
‘Boyd Jolic is a volunteer with the Country Fire Authority, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah. So?’
‘Why didn’t he do something?’
‘He was pretty pissed.’
‘He liked watching it burn, didn’t he? Did it affect you the same way? Is that why you set fire to Clara Macris’s house after killing her?’
‘I never. And I wouldn’t know what Joll was thinking.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘No.’
‘You stole the mobile phone and called Craig Oliver at the pub to come and collect you, isn’t that right?’
‘No. He was there with us when we found it.’
‘What vehicle were you in?’
‘Er, Joll’s ute.’
‘You’re not certain?’
‘That’s right, it was definitely Joll’s ute.’
‘Was it you who threw the car phone into the flames after you called Mr Oliver to collect you?’
‘I told you, he was there all the time.’
‘Explain the cans, the bottles, the cigarette packets we found at the scene, covered in your prints.’
Danny uttered a bizarre, high-pitched laugh. ‘We had a bit of a party.’
‘It gave you a particular thrill, standing around, watching something burn?’
Danny said sourly, ‘I’m not like that.’
‘What are you like, Dan?’ Ellen said.
He twisted around to look at her. ‘It was unexpected, seeing a car burning. You know.’
‘Did you see who lit the fire?’
‘Didn’t see no-one.’
‘Did you light it, or did Boyd Jolic light it?’
‘I told you, we-’
