Free Blood on the Cowley Road by Peter Tickler Page B

it. Will you be prosecuting him for it?’
    â€˜I’m not sure there’s a lot of point,’ Holden said with a slight shrug. ‘Not now that—’ Her sentence dribbled to a halt. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘what really matters here is not who smashed Jake’s car. It’s who killed him. Why did Danny smash up his car? Did Danny hate him enough to smash his head in too?’
    Laing took a noisy intake of breath, then released it as if warming up for some imminent physical effort. ‘When Danny smashed Jake’s car, it was parked in Marston Street, right outside Sarah Johnson’s flat. This took place roundabout 11.00 o’clock at night. It caused some friction between Jim Blunt and Jake when it became apparent that Jake had been visiting Sarah Johnson, and Jim thought he was overstepping the boundaries. ’
    â€˜But Jake was gay?’ Holden said.
    â€˜Yes!’ She almost snorted the word. ‘Sure he was gay. No one was saying he was sleeping with Sarah, but being round at her flat, and being there late at night – well, it suggests a degree of friendship that was well ... some would call it unprofessional. But personally, I would call it bloody stupid.’
    â€˜And what about Danny?’ Holden said, determined to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go. ‘If he was jealous enough to smash up Jake’s car, then he must have been very fond of Sarah?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Laing said again, this time with something close to a sigh. ‘I would say he was very fond of Sarah. Devoted. Like a puppy. Always ready to make her a cup of tea, or nip down to the Londis to get her some cigarettes. But she kept him at a distance.’
    â€˜But she didn’t keep Jake at a distance?’

    For a second time Laing sucked air in and out of her lungs while she pondered her response. ‘In my judgement, her relationship with Jake was at an altogether deeper level than hers with Danny. She both humoured and used Danny, but Jake—’ Laing paused and resumed again her deep breathing, in, out, in, out: ‘Jake she needed. And on Jake she became, I fear, dangerously dependent.’
    â€˜And Danny became very resentful of this relationship, did he?’ Holden pressed.
    â€˜I would say so, yes.’
    â€˜Would you say he hated Jake?’
    â€˜Hated him?’ She leant back into the chair, and looked up at the ceiling. Unconsciously, she pursed her lips, before lowering her gaze until it met Holden’s. ‘Hated, as in hated him enough to have killed him? I think not. Disliked, yes. Hated no.’
    â€˜Really?’ said Holden, a note of scepticism in her voice. ‘I’m surprised that you should be so naïve, given that you work with people. You must know how things can grow and grow. Small resentments can become large resentments. Large resentments can turn into jealousy, which can turn sooner or later, if not checked, into hatred. And hatred can lead to murder.’
    â€˜If you say so,’ said Laing, in a voice which said quite clearly that she didn’t share the detective’s gloomy assessment of human character. ‘Is that all?’ she said, ‘because if it is I ought to be getting out into the centre and helping the others.’
    â€˜Of course,’ Holden said, accommodatingly. She rose to her feet to indicate the interview was over. ‘Thank you for your help.’
    Laing rose slightly awkwardly to her feet, suddenly feeling conscious of her own bulk. If she had been honest with herself, she would have acknowledged that she resented the rather trim figure that the Detective Inspector cut opposite her. With a curt nod of the head, she turned towards the door.
    â€˜Just one last question,’ Holden said as the other woman’s hand grasped the door handle. Laing turned, but said nothing. ‘I was just wondering,’ Holden said, as off-handedly as she