Free The Fruit Gum Murders by Roger Silverwood Page A

might have done.’
    â€˜If you had been upstairs, what would you go upstairs for?’
    â€˜If I’d had a woman, or I had picked one up. I might have taken her upstairs.’
    â€˜And did you do that on Sunday night?’
    â€˜No. I don’t remember anything like that,’ he said with a snigger. ‘I would have remembered that, I’m sure I would.’
    â€˜Right, so what did you do next?’
    â€˜I remember coming down the steps and going outside. It was still daylight. There was a taxi in the rank. He brought me home, and I went to bed.’
    â€˜And what time was that?’
    â€˜I dunno. I don’t keep count of every minute of what I do. I was out to enjoy myself.’
    â€˜You know when you were upstairs in the Feathers,’ Angel said, ‘do you remember going into any of the bedrooms?’
    Johnson frowned. ‘No. I don’t remember going upstairs,’ he said.
    â€˜You said, “when I came down the steps I went outside.” Perhaps you went up in the lift, but walked down, and you forgot?’
    â€˜I s’pose it’s possible.’
    â€˜You know, Thomas, it would help if I knew what you went upstairs for. Was it to visit a man or a woman?’
    Johnson shook his head. ‘I don’t know any women there.’
    He stopped fidgeting with his hands. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small white paper bag. He fumbled in the bag and took out a small sweet and put it in his mouth.
    Angel’s eyes lit up. ‘What are those?’
    Johnson stared at him. ‘Does thar want one?’
    Angel leaned forward putting out his hand. Johnson grudgingly held out the bag. Angel dipped into it and took out a fruit gum.
    Angel didn’t put it into his mouth, instead he looked at it in the palm of his hand then slowly said, ‘You are going to be in need of a solicitor. Do you have one of your own or do you want me to appoint one?’
    Johnson’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? What would I be wanting a solicitor for?’
    â€˜Is Mr Bloomfield your usual one?’
    Suddenly, Johnson’s face grew red and his eyes stared angrily at him. ‘Yes, but what are you putting me down for?’ he bellowed.
    â€˜I’m going to have to keep you in custody to assist us with our inquiries.’
    â€˜Oh no,’ Johnson bellowed. ‘You’re friggin’ not!’
    Then he stood up, clenched his fists and lunged out a mighty right blow at Angel’s face, which missed him by a mile. Angel managed to grab his arm and, using the momentum Johnson had created, dragged him flying across the table and onto the floor where he landed gracelessly in the corner of the room.
    The ruckus caused the door of the interview room to be opened. PC Donohue stuck his head in. ‘Everything all right, sir?’
    Angel pointed with his thumb at Johnson behind him, who was on his knees, getting to his feet, shaking his head, and squeezing and rubbing his right arm. ‘Pick him up and cuff him, Sean.’
    It was with some difficulty that PC Donohue, PC Elders and Angel managed to get Thomas Johnson into a cell and then process him. It was necessary for Johnson to put on police-issue denim and remove his own clothes for SOCO to examine them. Again this caused more uproar and resistance.
    It was not as if being locked up in a cell was a new experience for Johnson. Although, unusually, he had managed to confound the court on a charge in 2011, nonetheless he had served three months in 2002 for obtaining money with menaces and assaulting a police officer; also six months in 2009 for two offences of obtaining money by deception and assaulting a police officer.
    When the three officers had completed these initial measures, Angel instructed the duty jailer that Johnson was to be left alone for the time being to cool off, and to give him the opportunity of recognizing the plight he was in and to come to