As the tall, dark Mackenzie smiled, his face took on an expression of pure menace. Pye took an instant dislike to him, and wondered if, after all, he should force his way into the interview. "And who"s that?" the man asked.
"DCC Skinner," Rose replied. "You"ll have heard of him."
"Aye, vaguely," Mackenzie chuckled. "Have you an interview room for us?"
"Use this office."
"We need a tape, ma"am. This is an official interview."
Pye knew Rose well enough to read the sign as her eyes narrowed. "Very well," she said icily. "Ruth. Would you like me to sit in with you?"
"I don"t know if we can have that, ma"am."
"Inspector," she snapped, "in my station you"ll have what I tell you. Ruth?"
The woman shook her head. "Thanks, Maggie, but it"s all right. I just want out of here with a minimum of fuss."
"Okay. Mackenzie, there"s a vacant interview room at the end of the corridor. Use that, and bring Ms McConnell back here when you"re finished."
The big detective chuckled again. "Aye, we"ll have to see about that too, ma"am." Pye took half a pace towards him, until a glance from Rose stopped him in his tracks. Instead, he stood aside and allowed the Strathclyde officers to escort Ruth out of the office.
"There"s something about that b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Maggie Rose murmured as the door closed on the trio, "that reminds me of Flash Donaldson . . . andwe know all too well about him."
The interview room was three doors along the corridor. Detective Sergeant Dell held the door open for the other woman and ushered her inside. The only furniture was a table, upon which there sat a black tape recorder, and four chairs, two each on opposite sides.
"Sit down," said Mackenzie curtly. He took a tape ca.s.sette from his pocket, slipped it into one of the twin slots of the recorder, and switched it on. The interviewee sat down with her back to the door, laid her handbag on the table, then delved into it. Finally, satisfied, she produced a tissue and settled back into her chair.
The inspector stared across at her coldly. This interview is being held at Torphichen Place police office, Edinburgh, at five ten p.m. on November 27, 2000. I am Detective Inspector David Mackenzie, N Division, Strathclyde Police. Also present are Detective Sergeant Gwendoline Dell and Miss Ruth McConnell."
Then he astonished Ruth by reading her a formal caution.
"What the devil?" she exploded.
"Quiet please, Miss McConnell," barked Mackenzie. "You"ll answer questions only, not ask them."
"The h.e.l.l with that. Have I been arrested here?"
"And why should you be?"
She blazed back at him. "Don"t fence with me. For that b.l.o.o.d.y tape, what"s my status here?"
Mackenzie nodded a concession. "For the record, you are here voluntarily to a.s.sist our investigation into the suspicious death of your uncle, John McConnell, of number fifteen Glenlaverock Grove, c.u.mbernauld."
"Suspicious? What do you mean?"
The detective reached across and hit the stop b.u.t.ton on the recorder.
"There you go with the questions again. Listen, McConnell, I don"t care whose f.u.c.king secretary you are. As far as I"m concerned you"re just another f.u.c.king suspect.
"You know what my nickname is? They call me Bandit; not just the other coppers, but our local villains too ... and believe me, through in the west we have some real villains, not like the poofs..." He laughed, suddenly, harshly, ".. .oh aye, and f.u.c.king fish rustlers you lot have through here. It"s a mark of respect, so they tell me; they call me that because I"m a bad b.a.s.t.a.r.d and because I"ll nick anyone.
They say about some coppers that they"d lift their own brothers. I did,46.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.once. So be advised; behave yourself and don"t try to pull rank or influence on me."
He switched on the recorder once again. "Now, if you"re ready, Miss McConnell."
She looked at him, then turned her head and spoke directly to the microphone.
"I am, if you"ve quite finished spraying the room with testosterone."
The inspector glowered back at her. "When was the last time you saw your uncle?" he asked, abruptly.
"Last June. I took him a birthday present and took him out for lunch."
"What? You haven"t seen him since?"
"No, I have not."
"You didn"t see him on or around Sat.u.r.day the eighteenth of November?"
"No. I went to see him last Sat.u.r.day, as you know quite well. You"re getting your dates mixed up."
"No, I"m not, lady. I meant the Sat.u.r.day before."
She shook her head. "I did not see my uncle on that date," she said, loudly and firmly.
"We have information that you did."
Then your informant is either mistaken, or a liar."
The detective"s face twisted into an ugly grin. "And when your uncle told a neighbour that afternoon that he was expecting a visit from his niece, would he have been a liar too?"
"Either he or the neighbour would certainly have been mistaken."
Mackenzie glanced sideways at Sergeant Dell. "It"s amazing the number of times people say that to us, Gwennie, isn"t it?"
"It is, sir." Ruth looked at her for a sign that she might be the soft cop in the old routine, but found none.
They"re usually the ones that are lying, though. Isn"t that right?"
"It is indeed, sir."
"Well this time she isn"t, Inspector."
"So when was the last time you spoke to your uncle?"
"A few weeks ago."
"How did he sound?"
"Old, Inspector, he sounded old. He was eighty."