‘Whereabouts were they?’ Janet said.
‘Just inside. That was their squat.’
‘Whereabouts in the space?’ she persisted.
‘Just there,’ he said.
‘Standing, walking, sitting?’
He seemed unsure. ‘Standing.’
Janet didn’t miss a step. ‘Who did you shoot first?’
‘The bloke.’
‘Victor. Where was he?’
‘In the place, I told you.’
‘Was he sitting or standing when you shot him?’
‘Standing,’ he said.
‘Where did you hit him?’ she said.
‘In the chest.’ He banged a fist on his own breastbone.
‘How many times?’
‘Once.’
‘Then what?’
‘I did her.’
‘Lydia, where was she?’
He started to shrug then gave another sickly grin. ‘Trying to get away.’
‘You shot her how many times?’
‘Don’t remember,’ he said.
‘Try and remember,’ Janet said.
‘Once, in the back.’
‘What happened next?’
‘I poured the petrol on them, lit it up.’
Janet nodded though her mind was racing, trying to work out how what she was hearing fitted with the facts. Or didn’t. ‘And after that?’
‘Went home.’ He shuffled in his seat, rubbed his hand on his forearm where the fancy lettering spelled out the infamous quotes from Hitler’s bible.
‘Did anyone see you arrive home?’ Janet said.
‘Mum was out.’
‘What about Neil?’
‘Dunno,’ he said.
‘He wasn’t involved?’ Janet said.
‘No comment.’
‘Where’s the gun now?’
He fell silent.
‘Don’t you know?’ she said.
A shrug.
‘Was it the same gun that you used to kill Richard Kavanagh?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Where did you get the gun?’
He shook his head.
‘You need to speak,’ Janet said.
‘No comment.’
‘What about the petrol, where did you get that?’
‘Same as before,’ he said, ‘the Shell place.’
‘So let me be clear, when you shot Victor he was standing how far away from you?’
‘Few feet.’
‘How many?’ Janet said.
‘No idea. Didn’t measure it.’
‘Was he facing you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘He was praying,’ he sneered. ‘Lord save me!’ Noel Perry widened his eyes and shook his hands in some ghastly parody.
‘Did you go to the warehouse intending to harm the victims?’ Janet said.
‘Yeah.’ Amusement in his eyes.
‘Why was that?’
‘Immigrants. Coons. Shouldn’t be here. Parasites spreading AIDS. Taking British jobs, houses.’
‘You were happy to buy drugs from them?’ Janet said.
‘Business.’
‘The drugs in your home, did you buy those from Victor and Lydia?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘You didn’t steal them?’ Janet said.
‘No.’
‘When did you buy them?’
He paused. His face hardened. ‘Can’t remember.’
He scratched his arm, shifted in his seat. It was all off kilter. What he’d said did not mesh with the forensics.
‘How could you see?’ Janet said.
‘What?’
‘The windows in the warehouse are boarded up, there are no lights. How could you see, to shoot them?’