‘You know what’s unnecessary, counsel?’ I asked as I leaned forward across the table, opening the folder and spreading the photos of Drummond’s wrecked body across the metal surface. ‘Killing your buddy to frame his ogre nephew. Killing your friend because you knew he had an ogre relative to pin it on. That’s incendiary.’
Despite herself, Mrs Kerr looked down at the photographs, eyes widening in shock at the sight that greeted her.
‘Oh my God,’ she said and clapped a hand to her mouth, shoulders heaving uncontrollably.
Channing hastily shoved the wastebasket at her, and she threw up into it.
The lawyer gathered the pictures, shoved them back into the file and flipped the manila cover closed.
‘There was no need to subject her to those photographs,’ he said tightly. ‘My client was not responsible for Mr Drummond’s death and she is understandably distressed by the events of the last twenty-four hours. You have her statement. She has nothing more to add at this time. Unless you have any charges for my client …’ He paused for the barest beat for me to confirm or deny.
I stared stonily instead.
‘Then we’re done here,’ he said, standing.
Once again, he took her by the arm as if to lead her out gently. She was still pale, but she was regaining her hoity-toity spirit moment by moment. As I watched, she shoved her pretty nose back into the air, shoulders thrust back. She’d found her footing, but the photoshadtruly horrified her. She hadn’t been present at the murder sites then, but I’d bet a month’s pay cheque that she was still involved, albeit on the periphery. She had to know who the killer was, and I was betting there was a reason she’d falsely provided an alibi for Beeks. The woman was so prim and proper that the only thing that had been up her arse was a monumental rod that she’d yet to remove.
‘We’re not done here counsel,’ I replied. ‘Not by a long shot. Your client knows something.’ I looked at Angela. ‘Don’t you?’
She pressed her lips together – an unconscious tell to stop herself from spilling the secrets. Yeah, she knew something.
‘But by all means, let’s discuss this further on another occasion, after I’ve had the chance to speak to your husband. Interview terminated.’
Poise regained, Mrs Kerr smirked all the way to the door.
‘Well, she’s a total bitch,’ Channing muttered.
‘Yeah, but she’s a bitch in the know,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t like being the alibi, but she’ll take it, for now. The pictures made her sick so I doubt she did the killing – no blood on those pretty nails – but yeah, I’d bet she knows who did it. Let her go for now and let’s bring in the husband. Let’s see if we can rile him and get him to slip.’
Mr Kerr had combed his beard and brushed his hair, yet his rumpled clothes gave him a slovenly appearance. Mrs Kerr’s counsel reprised his role once more, giving me a wide smile while the formalities were recorded for the tape. Once I was done, he again reached into his briefcase to give me the same statement he’d prepared for Mrs Kerr; the only thing amended was his client’s name and gender.
‘Somewhat lazy work, counsel,’ I chided.
He looked amused.
‘I hope he didn’t charge you for preparing two statements,’ I said conversationally to Mr Kerr, ‘when he’s only bothered to complete one. Still, you’re no stranger to getting screwed, are you Mr Kerr? When you’re with Beeks, are you the bottom?’
‘I am not with him like that!’ he spat.
‘No?’ I said mildly. ‘You just like to watch him fuck your wife, is that it?’
He stood from the table, rage across his face.
‘Mr Kerr,’ his slick counsel said. ‘Please calm yourself and sit down.’
‘That’s right,’ I added. ‘Do what the nice lawyer says. Does he enjoy a ménage à trois with you too, Kerr?’
‘We do not—’ Kerr began, but his brief placed a warning hand on his arm and he took a steadying breath.
‘It’s the beard, isn’t it?’ I asked with a wink. ‘Beeks is clean-shaven. Smoother for Mrs Kerr when he’s down between her legs, licking her—’
‘You better not finish that sentence, you bitch! You fucking cop bitch!’
‘Your wife liked that phrase too. The two of you enjoy name-calling, it seems. Tell me, Mr Kerr, when you were both with Mr Beeks, what names did you call him? Master, maybe? Are you Mr Beeks’s little bitch?’
Mr Kerr’s face turned a pleasing shade of red, almost purpling. When he spoke spittle flew everywhere. ‘I’m going to get you fired!’
I smiled, letting him see how utterly unruffled I was by his threat. ‘I don’t think so. Senior can’t touch me. None of you can. It’ll be fun to watch you try though.’ I winked just to annoy him more.
