I had to admit DI Butt was phenomenal. I could tell he was building up to something, but having been late to the station we hadn’t had a chance to review the evidence beforehand. I was as clueless as Charlie, it seemed, in what the Detective Inspector had up his sleeve.
“The one continuing pattern with scams and gangs that go on for a long time is sloppiness and laziness. Keeping the credit card was lazy, or perhaps it was pride. A search of your accomplice’s possessions showed he had kept a credit or debit card from every victim. Trophies of the poor innocent people he and you spiked, beat, mugged and left for dead. Depending on the victim’s profile in every instance they described being approached by a larger man or a smaller one - we couldn’t get a handle on hair colour, length, beards — I presume you changed those for each scam, to make it harder to identify you?”
“I fucking told you, I don’t know what you’re on about! This is bullshit! I have never seen that man in my life!” I could see oneof Charlie’s hands vibrating above the table like he was trying to resist the urge to hit DI Butt.
“You’re such a good liar it’s almost believable,” said the Detective Inspector. “But there’s one last piece of evidence. One I wouldn’t have found myself. A junior officer of mine was almost too ashamed to admit he recognised you. At first, he thought from one of the clubs, but then he realised. Are you familiar with the Twitter handle @YungTwink62?”
Charlie didn’t answer. I could see him slumping down in the chair slowly, early defiance long gone.
DI Butt continued. “You see, there’s a link to a paid service here…but pinned at the very top of this profile—oh wait, your profile—is a video. A video called ‘Daddy Bear Dominates Little Twink’. Now I wouldn’t call it particularly artfully shot, and I’m much more a fan of otters and jocks myself. But the people in the video are unmistakably you and the older gentleman you claimed not to know. And out of some ridiculous urge you couldn’t possibly wait any longer. As far as we can ascertain this video was filmed in the victim’s flat, in his bed before you ransacked the place. He will no doubt confirm this for us when we show him the video. As you’ve so far not seen any reason to cut in I feel pretty comfortable in formally charging you with one count of first degree assault, level three robbery. If this gets escalated beyond our force based on evidence we have provided, you’re looking at many more similar charges. You’re going away for a significant time.”
“I didn’t-I couldn’t-he-he-he made me do it,” Charlie muttered so quietly it almost wasn’t picked up by the mic.
“Strangely enough, he said the same of you. It’ll be the courts that decide which of you is telling the truth now.”
And with that, DI Butt pressed the button on the tape recorder and swept out of the room.
And into the room we were in. Owen gave him a little clap, and DI Butt gave a mock curtsy.
“Thank you,” I whispered, though I really wasn’t sure what emotion I was feeling in the moment. Anger? Relief? Owen slipped his arm around me once more and gave me a squeeze and I realised I was just tired.
???
“Are you ready?” Owen asked later, when I had given my witness statements and returned to my flat. I nodded quickly as I knew if I hesitated I couldn’t possibly do it.
“Oh, there’s this,” he said. He handed me a little unfamiliar key. “The police had your lock replaced to prevent access to your flat.”
“Great.” I didn’t have the energy for enthusiasm, so I stepped forward to fit the key into the lock. As the door swung open, I felt myself start to tear up.
“Fucking hell, they really took it all.” The little flat looked like it had been emptied to sell. The TV unit was still in the living room, but they had even taken the little statement coffee tables I used to have in the middle. The floor was bare of the rug that used to sit there and the kitchen units all hung open.
“Did they get the bedroom?” I asked.
“They did, I replaced the bedding for you though.” Owen gave a little smile as I glanced at him.
“Thank you, you’re the best best friend.”
“I know.”
I walked through the empty living room and into the bedroom. A quick cursory search of the bedside drawers revealed everything was gone. “Guess I’m going to work in denim tomorrow,” I said.
“We can get you some clothes now if you like?” Owen offered. “I’m sure there’s some shops open, and I have…” he produceda stack of envelopes from a little messenger bag “…all of your cards and financial stuff, kept in police possession.”
“In all honesty, I just want to sleep. I just want to go home.”
“You are home,” said Owen.
“Nah. Not any more.”
“You going to look for another flat then? One just came up for rent near me if you want to be closer. We could have wine nights every single Thursday!” I couldn’t bear to hear the puppy-like excitement in Owen’s voice, and I realised in a whirlwind week I hadn’t once confided my plans in him.
“Shit, ah,” I started, unsure how to broach the topic. “I’m moving. To Hiraeth.”
“ToWales?”
“Yes, to Wales.”
“Wow, whoever that guy was, he dickmatised you hard. Well done to him.”
