‘I don’t hear any admission that my client murdered Holly Kemp,’ states Bickford-Jones, completely emotionless; a beautifully decorated brick wall.
‘Yet. Like I say, there’s more coming. But in any case, inference goes a very long way, as you well know.’ I turn to Fellows. ‘You see, the problem with £1,000-an-hour briefs, Simon – although, fair play to you, Ms Bickford-Jones, I wouldn’t turn it down – is that you’re paying for legal advice, sure, but you’re also paying for them to blow smoke up your arse. And that really doesn’t help you.’
‘And helping me is your main concern, is it?’ It might be wishful thinking, but I think I detect a shift in his tone, a tiny hairline fracture to that imposing self-confidence. ‘Look, if I’m so banged to rights, why haven’t you charged me yet?’
‘Oh, we will be charging you, don’t you worry about that. We’re still gathering evidence, but all we’re doing is strengthening an already strong case.’ I move in closer. ‘This is about giving you the opportunity to explain what happened. To make things slightly better for yourself.’
‘You’re all heart, darling. And why would you do that?’
‘Because we want everyone involved to be punished. And because right now, Tessa Dyer is down that corridor saying “no comment” to every single question. Why is that? She knows better than anyone that there’s no route out of here, but she’s buying time, Simon. Trying to work out the best angle to take when she does decide to speak. Figuring out how to pin everything on you.’
‘Fuck that.’
‘Maybe we should take a break,’ says Bickford-Jones. It falls on deaf ears.
Parnell cranks up the voltage. ‘Did Dyer dump Holly’s body? We strongly suspect she did, and it’d be far better for you to confirm that, rather than us having to find out for ourselves.’ God only knows how we’d do that, but Fellows doesn’t know this. ‘Listen, I’m not going to blow smoke up your arse and claim there’s going to be a whole lot of leniency. We are going to put you away for the murder of Holly Kemp, and quite probably for conspiracy to murder Christopher Masters and Jacob Pope, but trust me when I tell you, co-operation at this stage is always a good thing. There are things we could request in exchange for your statement. A prison near to home maybe, so visits are easier for your family. Or a prison miles away from London, if you’re worried about safety. There are ways we can help, but you need to help yourself.’
‘If you keep denying everything,’ I say, piling on, ‘then you and you alone are going to go down for the lion’s share of this.’
Fellows looks at Bickford-Jones, then me, then Parnell. The same dead-eyed stare turning each of us to stone, before his snarl cracks wide and he bursts out laughing. ‘Fuck, this really is a mess, isn’t it?’
‘Then sort it out, tell us what happened. Take back a bit of control before Dyer gets in first.’ I slap every card down on the table. ‘Look, those texts, Simon, all they point to so far is Dyer being a corrupt officer – tidying things up, tipping you off. But we believe she played a far more active role in the aftermath of Holly Kemp’s death.’
‘Aftermath?’ His laugh dissolves with one last bark. ‘She didn’t tidy up after me, I tidied up after her. This was all her. Dyer killed Holly. I barely knew the girl.’
I feel the energy from the viewing room like a sonic pulse. Steele on her feet, the team scattering around her; chairs scraping back, expletives issued, orders bellowed. I look at Parnell to take the lead, praying Bickford-Jones doesn’t insist on a break this time.
Fellows doesn’t give her the chance.
‘She’d been blackmailing Tess for over a year – well, Paul at first, but then after he got sick again, he had to come clean to Tess and she took care of it.’
‘Paul?’ I pick up on the familiarity.
‘I was a Gordonstoun boy too, so was my kid brother. He and Paul were best mates. Paul was like a part of the family growing up. Then Glenn, my kid brother, died in his early twenties – a horse-riding accident – and I kind of took Paul under my wing for a while. But then everything changed once his career took off. He was a real high-flyer in the Ministry of Justice – in the Press Office of all places, which meant he had to be whiter than white. He felt compromised knowing me, started distancing himself. I understood; it was no real skin off my nose. His wife, though, she saw the benefit of staying in touch with me.’
‘Can you be more explicit, for the tape, please,’ asks Parnell. ‘Can you state the nature of your relationship with Detective Chief Inspector Tessa Dyer?’
‘We’ve been working together for years.’
‘Years? How many? Two, ten, twenty?’
Fellows blows out his cheeks. ‘Fifteen years, give or take. I didn’t mark it on the calendar. You know, it wasn’t just about money to begin with. She also wanted information on rival gangs. How do you think she managed to take down Slevin and the Whittlesea crew so easily? Pure luck? Fuck that, that was all me. But it was a total win-win – she got to look good and I got rid of the competition without breaking a sweat.’
‘And February 2012?’ I say, shifting into fifth gear. While context is great, we can worry about that later. Right now, we can’t risk him changing his mind, clamping his mouth shut. ‘How did you become involved with Holly Kemp?’
‘Tess asked to meet; this was right at the end of 2011. She didn’t go into lots of detail – I think she was worried I’d use it against her and Paul, which I was a bit offended by, if you must know.’ Rich, coming from the man currently selling her down the river on a punctured rubber dinghy. ‘Paul had had “a lapse of judgement” is all she’d say, and now this woman, this girl, was blackmailing him. Threatening to expose things, serious things, to his employers. I mean, the Ministry of Justice – a government body setting the rules for the rest of us, and Paul, one of their main mouthpieces? He’d be finished and he knew it. Tess said he’d been paying her off for over six months, but when he’d missed a few payments because he was in hospital – it had to be in person, in cash, you see – she’d shown no mercy at all. Paul had cracked and told Tess, and now it was her problem.’
‘And where did you come in?’
‘Tess had met up with her, paid her, tried to reason with her. Offered her lump sums if she backed off once and for all. But she just turned the screw again, upped the payments. She knew she had a senior police officer on the ropes now, so why not?’
So Dyer was the ‘big fish’, not Fellows.
‘She knew Holly Kemp was never going to leave them alone, and with Paul ill, not working, and the medical bills . . . well, she asked me if I’d put the frighteners on her, warn her off. And for old times sake’ – for Paul, mainly – I said OK. So I paid her a visit, told her to take a lump sum, quit while she was ahead. But still, she keeps going.’ He shakes his head, marvelling at her stupidity. ‘So Tess says to pay her another visit. This time I let myself into her flat. I’m waiting on her sofa when she gets home. She bolts, but I have her round the neck before she gets to the front door. I tell her this is the last time I’ll ask nicely and to stop trying to play with the big boys because she won’t win. She just smiles. Fucking smiles! But then people often try to front it out when they’re shitting themselves.’