Cut to Black faw-5

by Graham Hurley

  "That's right." It was Crewdson. "We know already what really happened and there are ways we can prove it. The detectives you'll be talking to may push you to make mistakes. As long as you say nothing, that can't happen. Everything's going to be fine. Just do what we say. OK?"

  J-J was staring at his father as Faraday translated Crewdson's assurances into sign. Then his gaze transferred to the lawyer. This stranger might have been trying to explain the rules of a particularly complicated game. J-J's face was quite blank.

  "You understand what we're saying?" Faraday signed.

  J-J's slow nod put a smile on Crewdson's face. He reached out and patted J-J on the shoulder, then turned back to the door, calling for the jailer through the open hatch. J-J watched his every movement, something new in his eyes, and Faraday's heart began to sink again.

  The interview started forty minutes later. Rick Stapleton had driven across from Highland Road, bringing another detective Alan Moffat with him. Faraday had been in charge of both DCs for three years on division, and once again he tried to defuse the awkwardness of the situation, this time with a brisk handshake. Stapleton was a lean thirty-three-year-old, openly gay, a detective whom Faraday had always rated extremely highly. Moffat, a slightly older man, had served on the Force Surveillance Unit before returning to the grind of volume crime. Neither man returned Faraday's smile.

  The bare, white-walled room was equipped with both audio and video facilities. Central had been chosen to pilot video recordings of all interviews, and two cameras mounted high on the wall offered coverage of the table that dominated the room.

  Stapleton and Moffat sat on one side of the table, J-J and his father on the other. Hartley Crewdson fetched a spare chair from an adjoining room, and stationed himself to J-J's left.

  Stapleton raised an eyebrow and glanced at Faraday.

  "OK?"

  Faraday nodded, watching Moffat as he cued the video recorders. The audio machines were on the table, backed against the wall. Moffat sat down again, leaving Stapleton to reach for the printed checklist and go through the preliminary announcements that preface every interview.

  Stapleton introduced himself and Moffat, confirmed the time and place, established that the interview was being recorded, and then turned to J-J.

  "Please give your full name and date of birth."

  Faraday signed the request. J-J looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. Surely his dad knew the answer? There was a brief silence before Faraday supplied the details. Stapleton glanced at Moffat. This was new territory.

  "Your lad's supposed to speak for himself." He frowned. "If you see what I mean."

  Stapleton returned to his script. After explaining what would happen to the recorded tapes and CDs, he glanced quickly up, looking at J-J, before ducking his head again.

  "You do not have to say anything," he read. "But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

  He paused, then looked at Faraday. "You want to tell him all that?"

  "I just did."

  "And he understands?"

  "Of course he does."

  "Good. So let's start with yesterday. As I understand it, you've been involved in the production of a video. Would you like to tell us something about that?"

  Faraday hesitated a moment, then passed on the question. A shake of J-J's head would have been enough for "No comment." Instead, J-J bent towards the table, eyeballing Rick Stapleton, inviting the detective into his life, offering him a long account of exactly how he'd first met Eadie, how he'd shot black and white stills for her Dunkirk documentary, how she'd taught him to use a video camera, and how his involvement in Ambrym had slowly extended into a research responsibility for her new drugs project. The work, he signed, had been brilliant. Hard, but brilliant. He'd met loads of people. And Eadie had been right. Everyone should know about this stuff.

  "Who's Eadie?"

  "My dad's girlfriend."

  "And the research was down to you?"

  "Yes. I had to find the people we were going to tape." He extended his arm and mimed a syringe. "The users."

  For Faraday, struggling to keep up with the blizzard of sign, this experience was quickly becoming surreal. This was the last year of J-J's life going onto the CDs and audio cassettes. Whatever happened to "No comment."?

  When Stapleton paused to scribble himself a note, Faraday shot a look at Crewdson. The solicitor was gazing at J-J, appalled.

  Stapleton took up the running again. When did J-J first meet Daniel Kelly?

  "Couple of days ago. There was a girl called Sarah. I think she really wanted to be part of the video, help us make it. She thought it was a cool idea. She knew Daniel and told me about him."

  "You met him?"

  "Yes."

  "What was he like?"

  "Lost."

  "Lost?"

  "Confused. Sick." J-J clawed at his heart and pulled a face. Faraday hunted for the right word. "Wounded," he managed at last.

  "Did he have friends?" Stapleton didn't take his eyes off J-J's face.

  "I don't think so. Only Sarah."

  "What about family?"

  "His mum's in Australia. He never sees his dad."

  "Would you say he was vulnerable?"

  "Definitely."

  "An easy target?"

  Crewdson leaned forward, reaching towards J-J, trying to still those busy hands.

  "This is totally inappropriate," he told Stapleton. "You're leading my client on."

  "You think so?" Stapleton's eyes were stony. "I'd say we were simply establishing the facts. Mr. Faraday?"

  On the point of supporting Crewdson's protest, Faraday realised that the question was directed at J-J. When he signed it to his son, J-J merely shrugged.

  "I haven't got a problem," he signed back, looking at Stapleton. "Ask me whatever you want."

  Faraday hesitated. The temptation now was to treat these answers with a certain degree of latitude, if only for J-J's sake.

  "My son would prefer if you kept to the point," he muttered at last.

  "He's happy to help with the facts."

  "OK." Stapleton's gaze lingered on Faraday for a moment or two, then he returned to J-J. "Let's be clear about the situation here, Mr.

  Faraday. Your job was to go and persuade Kelly to be in this video.

  Kelly was a mess. That's why you were there, that's why you went to see him in the first place. Do you really think he was in any fit state to make a sensible decision? Be honest."

  There was a brief pause while J-J thought about the question. Finally, he shook his head.

  "The second time I saw him he was in a terrible state." The clawing motion again, then the syringe. "He needed heroin. He hadn't got any."

  "The second time you saw him?"

  "Yesterday. Before we did the interview."

  "Did he want to do the interview?"

  "I — " J-J was frowning "don't know."

  Once again, Faraday was tempted to embellish the answer. J-J's despairing shrug, though, spoke for itself. Stapleton looked down at his notes, taking his time.

  "But the interview happened, didn't it?" he enquired at last.

  "Yes."

  "So why did Kelly say yes? What made the difference?"

  Hartley Crewdson intervened for the second time. In his opinion, this line of questioning was definitely prejudicial, planting suggestions in J-J's path, luring him into self-incrimination. Faraday was looking at the ceiling. Twenty-five years of policing told him the solicitor hadn't got a prayer.

  Stapleton barely spared Crewdson a glance. Instead, he once again asked Faraday to pass the protest on to his son. What did J-J think?

  J-J signed that he was OK with Stapleton's questions. He was here to explain exactly what had happened. Absolutely no problem.

  "So answer the question. Why did Kelly agree to do the interview?"

  J-J signed that he'd a
greed to buy drugs for Kelly. Faraday turned to Stapleton.

  "He says Kelly asked him a favour."

  "What favour?"

  Faraday glanced back at J-J, watching him mime a syringe in his arm again, realising that his fatherly attempts to shield his son from these remorseless questions were doomed. One way or another, J-J was determined to share the truth about yesterday's events. What might happen as a consequence didn't appear to trouble him in the least.

  Stapleton was looking at Faraday. He wanted clarification on the last answer. Faraday sat back in his chair, suddenly aware of what guilt must feel like. Any more of this and he'd be facing a charge himself.

  Perverting the course of justice.

  "He's telling you that Kelly asked him to buy drugs."

  "That's not what you said just now."

  "I know. You wanted a clarification. I've just supplied it. OK?"

  For the first time, Stapleton permitted himself a small, tight-lipped smile. It was, Faraday realised at once, a warning.

  "Ask your son whether he agreed to buy the drugs."

  Faraday signed the question. J-J nodded, slowing the signing, spelling it out, trying to cut his father out of the loop.

  "Did Kelly tell you where to go?"

  "Yes."

  "He gave you money?"

  "Yes."

  "Where was the address?"

  Lip-reading the question, J-J hand-signed Pennington Road. Faraday obliged with a translation.

  "Number?" '30."

  "And you bought the drugs?"

  "They took the money off me."

  "Who's "they"?"

  "Two guys."

  "Names?"

  "One was called Terry."

  "How much money did they take off you?" ' 90."

  "And gave you the drugs?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know."

  "That's robbery. Why didn't you come to us?"

  There was a silence while J-J tried to think of an answer. Faraday glanced across at Crewdson. To his surprise, the solicitor motioned for him not to intervene. Alan Moffat stirred, taking over from Stapleton. After he'd established that J-J had returned to Hampshire Terrace without the drugs, he asked about Eadie Sykes.

  "She didn't know about the drugs," J-J signed.

  "But she knew about the state of Kelly?"

  "Yes."

  "And she still went ahead with the interview?"

  "Yes."

  "Were you happy with that?"

  There was a long moment of silence. Then J-J shook his head.

  "Why not?" It was Stapleton this time.

  "Because I thought it was cruel."

  "Cruel how?"

  "Taking advantage."

  Stapleton nodded and scribbled himself a note before looking up again.

  "What state was Kelly in by the time you did the interview?"

  "Terrible, worse. You can see it on the tape."

  "But still no drugs?"

  "No, they came later."

  "How?"

  "Somebody came round. There must have been a buzz on the phone. I don't know."

  "Were these the same people you'd met earlier?"

  "I don't know. I never saw them."

  Unprompted, through Faraday, J-J described what happened next. Eadie had taken over the camera. Daniel had injected himself, then stumbled away to bed.

  "Like a drunk," J-J signed. "Like a zombie."

  Stapleton leaned towards him. "And you had no part in any of that?"

  "None."

  "Why not?"

  "I thought it was wrong."

  "And what do you think now? Now that Daniel's dead?"

  "I still think it was wrong."

  "You think you were responsible for him dying?"

  "No. He'd have died anyway."

  "So why was it wrong?"

  "Because we robbed him."

  "Robbed him?"

  Stapleton looked at Faraday to check the translation. Faraday confirmed it with a nod, resigned now to letting the interview run its course. Stapleton returned to J-J.

  "Robbed him how? Robbed him of what?"

  J-J took his time. He was staring at his father. Finally, he cupped a shape with his hands and then made a tiny turning motion with his body.

  Faraday paused for a moment, reflecting on the gesture. Then he looked at Stapleton.

  "I think he means Kelly's entire life," he said quietly. "By putting it on tape and taking it away, they stole it."

  The interview ended at 17.05. Between them, Stapleton and Moffat went back over J-J's account, confirming details, asking for extra information, making it plain that J-J had to realise how important it was to be absolutely sure he hadn't missed anything out. Finally, almost as an afterthought, they enquired about the incident at the petrol station. Just what had J-J intended to do with two lit res of Supergreen unleaded?

  Faraday, bracing himself for the next revelation, had dutifully signed the question. This time, to his relief, J-J simply shook his head.

  "You don't know or you won't tell us?"

  Another shake of the head. Stapleton looked to Faraday for help.

  "He means, "No comment," Faraday said.

  Afterwards, J-J was returned to his cell, scarcely sparing his father a backward glance. Faraday and Crewdson were shown into the Duty Inspector's empty office while Stapleton and Moffat conferred with the Custody Sergeant. The next half-hour, as Faraday knew only too well, would probably decide J-J's fate.

  "What do you think?"

  Crewdson had opened a window and lit a small cheroot.

  "I think I might have been wrong." He expelled a thin blue plume of smoke. "Your boy was sensational. In a court of law he'd win a round of applause."

  "I'm not with you."

  "He confirmed everything they already know. Sure, he tried to score for Kelly but he did it with the best of intentions. There's no question that he was physically involved in supply, but every indication that he was appalled by what followed. There's something else, too."

  "What's that?"

  "You fucked around with a couple of the answers…" He paused.

  "Didn't you?"

  Faraday nodded, aware of the hot blush of colour rising in his face.

  "Instinct," he muttered. "Couldn't help myself."

  Crewdson gazed at him a moment, then stepped across. Faraday felt oddly grateful for the hand on his shoulder.

  "I'm not blaming you for a moment," Crewdson said softly. "Any father would have done the same. It's just nice the whole interview's on video."

  Faraday stared at the solicitor. The last hour or so had upset him more than he'd thought possible. Why the broad grin?

  "You're telling me all that was inadmissible?" he said at last.

  "Totally. They had no right to put you in that situation, total conflict of interest. Believe me, that interview won't get anywhere near a courtroom." He gave Faraday's shoulder a final pat. "They won't see it that way, of course, but then policemen never do."

  The summons to the Custody Sergeant came shortly afterwards. Faraday followed Crewdson through to the Charge Room. They passed Stapleton and Moffat in the corridor. The two DCs were on their way out to the car park. Neither said a word.

  The Custody Sergeant was standing at his desk, sorting through the paperwork from the arrest and interview. He acknowledged their presence with a nod, then reached for a pen, glanced up at the clock on the wall, and began to write. Finally, he closed the folder and capped the pen.

  "I've had a word with DCs Stapleton and Yates." He tapped the file.

  "I've also been through statements from DCs Winter and Suttle. Given the lad's cooperation, there's no point in remanding him. Under the circumstances, we're bailing him for two weeks, pending further inquiries. He needs to be back here on the fifth of April." He produced another form for signature. "Would you mind, Mr. Faraday?"

  Chapter twelve

  THURSDAY 20 MARCH 2003, 17.30


  The last place DC Jimmy Suttle would have chosen for a discreet meet was the top floor of the Southsea branch of Debenhams. The Debs cafeteria was for bored housewives with oodles of kids or OAPs in search of a cheap snack. What on earth was a vision like Trudy Gallagher doing in a place like this?

  "It's Blue Cross Day. They're giving stuff away. What makes you so choosy? Are you rich, or something? Look…" She reached down for her bag and produced a collection of boxed underwear. Two pairs of black lace knickers. A scarlet bikini for the summer. Three silk thongs in case she ever met the man of her dreams. "Under forty quid the lot. Happy now?"

  "Very." Suttle was thinking of the body they'd found in the upstairs room at Bystock Road. Black lace would be perfect. "What about blokes' stuff?"

  "Take your choice. 501s. Maine. Adidas. Stuff they rip you off on any other place."

  "You think I should take a stroll, then? While you finish that lot?"

  He nodded at her bowl: three scoops of ice cream with a dressing of maple syrup.

  "No." She shook her head. "Stay here."

  She ducked her head to hide her smile and loaded her spoon with melting ice cream. She'd phoned Suttle on the mobile number he'd given her at Gunwharf, the first time they'd met. She wanted to talk to him about something but it had to be private, one on one. If he turned up with that tosser Paul Winter, there was no way they'd even start a conversation.

  Suttle, amused by her dismissal of Winter, had invented a pressing appointment at his dentist and left Winter pursuing house-to-house inquiries in Portsea. He'd heard him on the phone to the Crime Squad DS, telling him there was no way anyone with half a brain in Portsea would ever testify against one of Bazza's lieutenants, but it seemed that DI Lamb was under the cosh for a result and was insisting on giving the house-to-house a punt. Winter, he knew, hadn't been fooled by his line about the dentist but was evidently happy to cut his young oppo a little slack. "Whoever she is," he'd grunted, 'give her one from me."

  Trudy had abandoned the ice cream. The smoking tables were on the other side of the cafeteria, beside the loo. Suttle pulled out a chair for Trudy, catching a swirl of perfume as she sat down. His last girlfriend had also been mad about Ralph Lauren, though a 36 atomiser for Christmas had done nothing to rescue the relationship.