Free The Reaper by Steven Dunne Page B

aggression.
    ‘That’s a pity because the longer this man is free, the greater the danger to you.’ Brook’s reassuring smile had the desired effect.
    ‘You’re doin’ my head in. I don’t know nothing,’ he insisted.
    ‘So where were you last night?’
    ‘Hanging.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Around.’
    ‘Who with?’
    ‘Some mates.’
    ‘I want names.’
    ‘Fuck that. I’m no grass.’
    ‘Where did you get a hundred pounds?’
    ‘I won it on a horse,’ Jason sneered with the standard and-you-can’t-prove-otherwise leer.
    ‘Really Well as you’re too young to legally place a bet, that money will have to be confiscated.’
    ‘You can’t do that…’
    ‘And the Ecstasy?’
    Jason’s triumphant manner subsided. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve planted that on me. I’ve been out cold. Anyone…’
    ‘Look,’ began Brook then paused for a deep breath to compose his thoughts, ‘I’m not interested in your…habits, Jason. If you want to pop a few pills to brighten your drab existence, who am I to care?’
    Jason prepared to protest but was unsure how to go about it.
    Carly Graham eyed Brook with concern. ‘Inspector, I don’t think…’
    ‘Under the circumstances, I can overlook possession. If you co-operate,’ said Brook, making an effort to keep to the script.
    Jason withdrew his unformed objection and stared down at the bed, sullen but yielding. ‘What do you want to know?’
    ‘Take me through what happened when you got home.’
    Brook took a few notes although it wasn’t really his forte. Jason told him little that he didn’t already know so he didn’t have much to record. But he confirmed that his parents had ‘won’ a competition at the local Pizza Parlour and that he’d nearly stayed in. He had no idea what time he got home, though he had a feeling it was after closing time–he was self-absorbed enough not to worry about admitting he’d been in a pub. He’d got home starving and headed straight for the kitchen. He tucked into the first pizza to hand. And then…nothing. Until now. No, his parents didn’t drink wine and no, they didn’t listen to any of that classical bollocks.
    ‘But did
you
hear it when you got in?’
    ‘Don’t know, alright. I don’t remember.’ Jason lowered his head in despair at the thoughts and images crowdingin. He sighed and looked up at Brook. ‘I don’t think I heard no music. Okay.’
    ‘Fair enough.’ Brook flipped his notes shut and stood up to go. Jason was leaving a lot out but it could wait.
    Suddenly the patient seemed animated, as though Brook’s imminent departure left unfinished business. Then his face brightened. ‘What about the telly?’
    ‘Telly?’ asked Brook. ‘It’s still there.’
    ‘No, you know. An appeal for witnesses and stuff. They can interview me and I can ask people for help to catch the bastard. I can handle it.’
    Brook stood motionless for a second, unable to think of a suitable response. He could see Carly Graham open-mouthed. ‘I bet you can,’ he said, and walked away.
    Brook passed Jones at the coffee machine. ‘What happened about Jason’s clothes?’
    ‘Bagged up with his shoes and sent to Forensics, sir.’
    ‘Good. And you’ve booked in the money and the drugs?’
    ‘Yes sir.’
    ‘Which means we’ve got Wallis on possession, possibly dealing. We’ll leave out suspicion of triple homicide.’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘He’s a suspect, Constable. Possibly dangerous. Cuff him.’
    ‘The doctor said…’
    ‘Never mind the doctor. It’s procedure. Cuff him.’

Chapter Five
     
    The press conference started promptly at four in the revamped media centre of D Division. Brook hadn’t been in there since McMaster had been promoted. He knew she’d refurbished the place but hadn’t realised how much. The last time he’d taken part in a press briefing, he’d sat at the end of a long table by the door, facing the window. The sun had slammed into his eyes throughout and he’d