Free Irrefutable Evidence: A Crime Thriller by David George Clarke

McPherson. “Rob, I think you and Neil should head for Luton airport and have a chat with Mr Silk. If his car matches the one in traffic’s CCTV, we need to seize it and get it back here. Sounds to me like Mr Silk has a lot of explaining to do.”
    McPherson and Bottomley made for the door, but Jennifer hovered where she was. Hurst looked up suspiciously.
    “What’s the matter, Cotton? You look like someone stole your pet rabbit.”
    “Well, I was thinking, boss, that having a female go along too might distract Silk a bit, perhaps loosen his tongue.”
    “He’s probably murdered a prostitute, Cotton. Do we really need to distract him?”
    “He’s got something of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It might help.”
    Hurst kept a deadpan expression.
    “You’re right. Who do you suggest we send along?”
    Jennifer caught the tone in his voice.
    “I think perhaps someone who’s a big fan of the series, knows about the cast and who would love to have the opportunity to see it being filmed. No, forget that last bit. I meant, someone professional enough not to be overawed by the whole TV razzmatazz.”
    “OK, Cotton, you can go, but don’t forget that Mr Henry Smooth-as-Silk is a killer.”
    Jennifer raised her eyebrows a fraction, but said nothing more. She was shocked that Hurst’s position on Silk had gone from victim of car theft to murderer in the space of a few hours. Old-school thinking or instinct that comes with years of experience? She wasn’t sure.

 
    C hapter 10
    T he drive from Nottingham to Luton took them a little over two hours. Longer than it should but, as ever, there were sections of the M1 motorway under repair. An hour into the journey, McPherson took a call from Derek Thyme about the post mortem findings.
    “OK, Thyme, I’m putting the call on speaker so that all three of us can hear it.”
    “Right-o guv. First up, as well as confirming the cause of death as being asphyxiation with a plastic bag, Dr Lawson has also confirmed that there was no evidence of any sexual activity immediately prior to death. Nothing on any of the swabs.”
    McPherson grunted. “They probably had an argument that got out of hand before they got around to anything. She was probably demanding too much money. Greedy lot, the girls on Forest Road.”
    Sitting in the back of the car and listening intently to the conversation, Jennifer wondered how he knew.
    “What about the injuries to the head?” continued McPherson.
    “The doc also confirmed that they were from a blunt, rounded object and by themselves wouldn’t have been life-threatening.”
    “So, nothing new, Justin.”
    “No, guv. The clothing has been sent to the lab and samples from the girl to toxicology.”
    “Right. Let’s hope that new lab we’re using — what’s it called?”
    “Forefront Forensics.”
    “Yes, well, let’s hope they’re keen enough to get the results out quickly. What are you doing now, Justin?”
    There was a pause and Jennifer smiled to herself; she could imagine the look of confusion on Derek’s face.
    McPherson sighed. “Apart from talking to me, I mean.”
    “Oh, right, guv. I’m about to start looking at the CCTV footage from the hotel.”
    “Keep me posted on anything you find.” McPherson ended the call and turned to Jennifer. “What else do you know about Henry Silk, given that you’re such a fan, Cotton?”
    Jennifer ignored the sarcastic tone.
    “From what I’ve read, guv, he’s something of a loner. He’s got a reputation of being a talented actor, particularly in character parts. Apparently he can put on all sorts of regional and foreign accents.”
    Neil Bottomley, who was driving, chimed in.
    “Funny how some actors can do that and others can’t. You’d think it would be part of their training.”
    McPherson grunted his lack of interest in accents.
    “So why do you say he’s a loner?”
    “It’s what the magazines say, guv, I don’t know the man. It seems there was an incident many years