‘Tall man, long hair, wore a cowboy-type hat.’
‘I don’t know no manky dosser, they eat crap out of bins, full of fleas, in’t they. They eat roadkill.’ If Kavanagh had been anything like Rachel’s father, food would be an incidental, an add-on to be considered once the savage need for a bevvy had been attended to.
‘A quantity of illegal drugs were recovered from your room,’ Rachel said. ‘Can you tell me where you obtained them?’ They had debated whether to introduce the drugs or not. Godzilla thought they should. The possibility of a drugs war, robbery or a deal gone sour could still give them motive.
‘But we’ve nothing to put Kavanagh next to drugs,’ Rachel had argued.
‘Yet,’ the boss said. ‘Could be a dead end but we go down it and have a good root around and find out instead of just ignoring it.’
Neil Perry laughed and scratched again. Hope he’s got scabies, Rachel thought, and felt her skin prickle in response.
‘Was it your intention to supply drugs to others?’ she said.
‘No, personal use only,’ he said.
‘Excessive amounts for personal use.’
‘Bulk buy,’ he said, ‘like with the cash and carry, makes sense.’
So he’d cop for possession but Rachel wasn’t interested in that, she wanted him for murder.
‘Tell me about Wednesday,’ she said.
‘Went to my gran’s.’
‘We have an independent witness who saw you on Low Bank Road at twenty past seven in the evening,’ Rachel said.
‘Can’t have,’ he said, ‘I wasn’t there.’
‘We also have an independent witness who can place you in the grounds of the Old Chapel ten minutes later, at half past seven that evening.’
‘They’re lying.’
So it went on and on, round and round until Rachel felt dizzy.
Gill was preparing notes in support of the application for a warrant of further detention. The court, specially convened as it was a Sunday, would want to know what inquiries had been made and why more time was needed.
She sketched out her summary of the evidence, the narrative she would present.
She started with the eyewitness sightings of Noel and Neil Perry: Councillor Bleaklow placed them in the centre of Manorclough on Low Bank Road at twenty past seven, Mr Hicks in the chapel grounds at half past seven and Rachel had seen them in the alley at twenty past eight. All those sightings contradicted the alibis given by both mother and grandmother, which in turn contradicted each other.
However, Gill drummed her nails on the desk: eyewitness testimony rested to a great extent on the clothing worn by the suspects. And although the jackets were distinctive and had to be ordered specially online, they might not be the only ones in existence. But then what were the odds of two people, identical in height and weight, within five hundred yards of the Perrys’ flat and the scene of the murder, wearing similar jackets?