‘Mr Tandy, there are two separate matters I wish to talk to you about today,’ Janet said. ‘I’d like to begin by informing you that a search of the house in Crescent Drive where you were staying revealed a cache of firearms, as seen in this picture. I’m now showing Mr Tandy a photograph, exhibit number MG4. Can you explain to me what you were doing with these weapons?’
‘No comment.’
‘Can you tell me how you acquired them?’
‘No comment.’
He had long teeth, uneven and protruding so his lips never fully closed. And he’d a smoker’s cough.
‘Have you supplied a weapon to anyone since your release from prison?’ she said.
‘No comment.’
‘You understand possession of a firearm is an offence punishable by law?’
‘Yes,’ he said. He coughed, cleared his throat, a sound like a car revving and trying to catch.
‘Did you supply Neil Perry with a weapon on Tuesday May the eighth?’ she said.
‘No comment.’
‘A search is currently being carried out at your home in Manton Road. Can you tell me if there are more firearms there?’ Janet said.
‘No,’ but he looked sick. Because they’d find something there or because his family would be affected?
‘Mr Tandy, is there anything you wish to tell me in relation to the firearms found in your possession?’
‘No comment.’
Janet nodded. Turned over the page of her notes, skimmed over them, then sat back. ‘Have you fired a gun recently?’
‘No,’ he said.
‘Are you certain about that?’ Janet said.
‘Yes.’
‘You haven’t fired a weapon since your release from prison?’ Leading him along the path, closer to the trap.
‘No,’ he said, with some impatience.
‘I am now showing Mr Tandy exhibit number MG10. A photograph. Do you recognize this bag?’
He stared at the picture, whistling in his throat. Something, consternation rippling through his expression? ‘No comment,’ he said.
‘This bag was found on top of the wardrobe where you were staying. You own a bag like this?’
‘No comment.’
‘This is exhibit number MG16. You recognize these gloves?’
‘No comment.’
‘They were found, along with a balaclava and a boiler suit, in the bag. Are they your gloves?’ she said.
‘No comment.’
‘We believe they are. We expect DNA testing to corroborate that.’
He gave a hacking cough.
Janet continued, walking him up to the gaping big hole in his account. ‘You have just told me that you have not fired a gun recently, yet the gloves recovered from your belongings contain significantly high levels of gunshot residue. How do you account for that?’
He snorted, eyes hot, the patches of colour on his cheeks darkened. ‘It’s a bloody fit-up,’ he said, ‘you can’t do that.’