by David Blake
‘You found that pen of his at Wallace’s house, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yes…’
‘And that dead stripper. Didn’t you say she worked for him?’
‘But…’
‘OK, I know it’s not much, but it will have to do. With Whitaker breathing down my neck, and all the reporters parked outside, we have to be seen to be doing something.’
‘Even though we won’t have enough to hold him for more than twenty-four hours?’
‘The way I’m looking at it, the fact that we don’t have any evidence means that we haven’t got anything to lose.’
‘Sorry, sir, I’m not with you.’
‘If he walks free, then we haven’t lost the means to use the evidence we’ve acquired against him, being that we didn’t have any to start with.’
‘You mean, when he walks free,’ added Tanner, astonished by Forrester’s uncharacteristically flippant attitude.
‘It will also give us the excuse to search that strip club of his,’ Forrester continued, ‘and who knows what we’ll find in there.’
Tanner once again looked over at Cooper, before glancing down at his watch.’
‘Well?’ he heard Forrester bark. ‘What are you waiting for?’
‘You want us to arrest him now?’
‘No, you’re right. It’s probably better if you wait till next week. Hopefully the weather would have cheered up by then.’
‘It’s just that it’s already gone five o’clock,’ Tanner continued, his mind thinking what Christine was going to say when he had to tell her that he was going to cancel their planned dinner together, again.
Forrester glared theatrically down at his watch. ‘My God, you’re right, it has! I’d no idea. That really is rather late, isn’t it.’
‘Er…and it’s Sunday, sir.’
‘How very insensitive of me. I suppose you had plans for the evening?’
Regretting having mentioned either the time or the day of the week, Tanner cleared his throat. ‘Well, sir, I was just thinking – wouldn’t it be better if we were to wait till tomorrow? That would at least give us time to find some actual evidence against him.’
‘Is that very likely?’
‘Maybe not, but…’
‘Then I want him brought in now; if that’s all the same to you. At this stage, I think it’s more important that we’re seen to be doing something than nothing at all.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ muttered Tanner quietly to himself, his mind imagining just how long it was going to take him to locate the suspect in question, drag him back to the station, have him formally processed, await the arrival of his solicitor – presuming he even had one – all before being able to interview him under caution.
Forrester cast a beady eye over at him. ‘I’m sorry, what was that?’
‘I was just telling myself that if I’m going to be able to start questioning him before eleven o’clock tonight, I suppose I’d better be getting on with it, sir,’ Tanner replied, forcing a smile over at his DCI.
‘That’s the spirit. You’d better take Cooper with you as well.’
‘Huh?’ the young DI said, looking up with a start.
‘You are still heading up the blackmail side of this investigation, are you not?’
‘Yes, but it’s…’ Cooper began, copying both Tanner and Forrester in staring down at his watch.
‘…it’s gone five o’clock on Sunday afternoon,’ Forrester said, finishing the sentence for him. ‘I know. Tanner told me that less than a minute ago. But don’t worry, I’ll be keeping myself busy as well. The moment I get home, I’ll be putting my feet up to watch the evening news, and the two of you being filmed marching that strip club owner in through the station’s doors.’
Seeing Forrester take hold of his mouse to turn his attention to his monitor, Tanner and Cooper stared around at each other before climbing slowly to their feet.
‘We’ll be off then, shall we, sir?’ Tanner enquired, with the forlorn hope that the DCI would have a change of heart.
‘Actually, hold on,’ Forrester began, abandoning his mouse to pick up his phone instead.
Tanner’s spirit lifted momentarily, but only until he heard who he was calling, and why.
‘Hi Sally; do me a favour, will you? Can you collect together everything we have on Terrance McMillan. Give forensics a call if you have to. Then, if you don’t mind, could you see if you can dig out a couple of umbrellas? Tanner and Cooper are about to head off to arrest him, and I don’t want them to get any wetter than they would already appear to be.’
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
TANNER WAS WET, tired, and starving hungry as he led Cooper inside one of Wroxham Police Station’s interview rooms to find a disgruntled looking Terrance McMillan, quietly conferring with a man he presumed to be his solicitor. Subsequently, it probably wasn’t too much of a surprise that he was also in a foul mood. It hadn’t helped that he’d been forced to cancel his date with Christine three hours before, for the second time in nearly as many days. And although she said she was fine about it, from the despondent tone of her voice, it was obvious that she wasn’t.
Without bothering to say anything to either of the men sitting on the opposite side of the small wooden table, both now glaring at him with impatient expectation, Tanner slumped down onto the chair closest to the wall, placed his freshly made mug of coffee beside a surprisingly hefty-looking file he’d brought in with him, and waited for Cooper to take the seat next to his before pressing a button on the wall-mounted recording device.
‘Commencing the interview of Mr Terrance McMillan of 14, Bainsbrook Gardens, London at…’ Tanner made a point of pulling back his suit jacket sleeve to stare down at his watch, ‘…twenty-nine minutes past eight. The day is Sunday the 29th August,’ he continued. ‘Present in the room are Detective Inspectors Cooper and Tanner, the afore-mentioned suspect, and his solicitor.’ Picking up a pen, he glanced up at the remarkably unattractive man sitting immediately opposite him. ‘Sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘Crabtree,’ the solicitor replied.
Tanner stopped for a moment to take the man in. With his bulging eyes and flaky brown skin, he looked almost exactly like the result of crossing a crab with a tree. ‘Of course it is,’ he eventually replied, imagining what it would have taken for the two to have had such an oddly-shaped human-sized offspring together.
Shaking his head in an effort to refocus his mind, his eyes shifted over to the suspect. ‘Mr McMillan, you have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Sir Michael Blackwell…’
‘This should be good,’ McMillan muttered in response, smirking around at his solicitor.
‘…Miss Claire Metcalf,’ Tanner continued, ‘otherwise known as Amber Vale, and Mr Toby Wallace. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
‘Speaking of which,’ the solicitor enquired, his eyes drilling down into Tanner’s, ‘may we see this so-called “evidence”?
‘We’re getting to that, thank you, Mr Tree Crab.’
The solicitor sent Tanner an irritated scowl. ‘It’s Crabtree, and no, we won’t be “getting to that”. We’ll see the evidence now, thank you very much. Failure to do so will have me escorting my client straight out the door, after which I’ll be advising him to sue the Norfolk Constabulary for wrongful arrest; police harassment as well, if you’re stupid enough to try and stop us.’
‘Mr Crab, er, Tree,’ Tanner began, making the mistake of glancing up at the solicitor’s bulging eyes, ‘we are well within our rights to detain your client for a period of twenty-four hours whilst continuing to conduct our investigation into the deaths of no less than three of our local residents.’
‘Not without evidence, you’re not.’
‘Which we’ll be coming to shortly. Now, if we may continue?’
The solicitor held his eyes for a
moment longer before waving his hand.
Tanner paused for a moment to take a much needed sip from his coffee.
‘Mr Terrance McMillan, do you understand why you’ve been arrested, and the allegations that have been made against you?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ McMillan replied, sending Tanner an overly appreciative grin.
‘May I start by asking where you were on Thursday evening between eight and twelve, this morning at around nine o’clock, and again a couple of hours later?’
‘I’d have thought you should have asked him all that before you arrested him,’ muttered the solicitor, beginning to take notes on the pad in front of him.
‘I was at the Riverside,’ McMillan replied.
‘On all three occasions?’
‘Since making the trip up to Norfolk, I’ve had no choice but to spend the vast majority of my time there.’
‘I assume there will be witnesses who’ll be able to vouch for you?’
‘Everyone who works there.’
‘Well, not quite everyone, being that one of them was found lying down an alleyway near Tunstall with her head smashed in.’
‘Sorry, my mistake. Apart from Amber.’
‘You mean, Miss Metcalf?’
‘Again, my error. I’ve always known her by her stage name.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tanner said, taking a moment to review his notes. ‘Would you be able to describe your relationship with Miss Metcalf?’
‘How do you mean? She was one of my employees.’
‘Let me put it another way,’ Tanner continued. ‘Did you ever have sex with her?’
McMillan’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘My client does have a point,’ interjected Crabtree.
‘We’re simply trying to establish the relationship between your client and one of the victims. If he would prefer not to answer, that’s fine by us, although it would lead us to question why he’d choose not to.’
Crabtree thought for a moment before nodding over at his client.
Seeing McMillan open his mouth, Tanner caught his eye to interrupt him. ‘But do please remember, Mr McMillan, that you may not be here under oath, but if you are caught lying about anything during these proceedings, it will negatively reduce your credibility both here and in the eyes of a court, making it extremely difficult for us to believe anything you tell us going forward.’
McMillan closed his mouth before opening it again. ‘Not that it’s any of your business but yes, we had a relationship.’
‘Of a sexual nature?’
‘Well, she wasn’t my grandmother, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No, of course,’ smiled Tanner. ‘May I ask when you last had such a relationship with Miss Metcalf.’
‘If you must know, it was at around seven o’clock this morning.
‘You mean, about two hours before her body was found?’
‘If you say so.’
Tanner allowed the room to fall silent as he made a quiet note in the file in front of him.
‘I’m still awaiting to see some of this elusive evidence,’ he heard Crabtree mutter.
Ignoring the remark, Tanner looked up to continue. ‘And your business relationship with Miss Metcalf. How would you describe that?’
‘I’ve already told you. She was an employee.’
‘In what capacity was she employed?’
‘She’s a dancer. One of our best. But I’ve told you this as well, haven’t I?’
‘When you say dancer, I take it you actually mean a stripper?’
McMillan smiled. ‘Our dancers do seem to have a tendency to take their clothes off during their performances. I’m not sure why, but whatever the reason, I’m fairly sure that there isn’t a law against it.’
‘And what happens then?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘After they’ve taken their clothes off.’
‘Er…they go back to their dressing room to put them back on again.’
‘You don’t offer your clientele any…additional services?’
‘Not me personally,’ he grinned, ‘but to be honest, I doubt I’m their type.’
‘I suspect you know what I mean, Mr McMillan.’
‘If my dancers wish to make some money on the side by taking our clients off somewhere in order to have sex with them, then that’s their business. Whether they do or not, I think you’ll find that exchanging such services for money isn’t illegal, at least not in the UK it isn’t.’
‘But soliciting sexual favours in a public place is, Mr McMillan.’
‘Then that would be something you’d need to take up with them.’
‘Er…excuse me,’ Crabtree interrupted, his attention diving between Tanner and Cooper, ‘but can either of you enlighten me as to what any of this has to do with the alleged murders you’ve dragged my client all the way in here to talk about?’
‘I was just coming to that,’ Tanner responded.
‘And I’ve still yet to see hide nor hair of a single scrap of so-called evidence.’
‘That as well,’ Tanner added, offering Crabtree a reassuring smile. ‘Now, where were we?’
‘You were about to let my client go, before offering him your most humble apology for not only having completely wasted his time, but also for having made him suffer the indignity of being arrested in front of half the nation’s press.’
Tanner gazed up at the ceiling. ‘No, I don’t think that was it. Oh yes, I remember now. Mr McMillan, did you ever introduce Claire Metcalf, otherwise known as Amber Vale, to any of your friends?’
‘Frequently, but not in the way to which I think you’re alluding.’
‘And which way would that be?’
‘In a way that would make me a pimp, inspector.’
‘I see. How about Sir Michael Blackwell? Did you introduce him to any of your dancers.’
McMillan paused for a moment, his eyes studying Tanner’s face. ‘I thought I’d already told you that I’d never met the man?’
‘So you didn’t introduce Sir Michael to Miss Metcalf?’
‘No!’
‘That was a very direct answer.’
‘You asked what I believe is called a closed question, being that it only requires a yes or a no answer. If you expect people to speak more freely, I suggest using something a little more open-ended.’
‘OK, then let’s try again, shall we? Did you send Claire Metcalf to Sir Michael’s house with the specific instruction to make sure he was handcuffed to his bed in preparation for either you, or one of your performing monkeys, to pay him a visit?’
‘I think you’ll find that that was another closed question.’
