‘What did he look like?’
He shrugged again and leaned his chin on his chest as he slouched back, his beard draping over his stained yellow jumper. ‘It was dark and I was a bit stoned. All I could see was his white shirt.’
‘Height? Build?’
‘Taller than me.’
Gina glanced at the file. Phillip Brighton was only five foot six. Most of the men there had been taller. ‘Much taller or a bit taller?’
His stare was so intense, his eyes looked as though they might pop out of his head. ‘How am I meant to know? The ground was uneven and as I said, I was stoned. Average, tall, not sure. Not fat. He had a suit jacket on.’
‘Hair colour, features?’
‘He had a nose, two eyes and a mouth. He could have had hair – I don’t know. It was dark. I couldn’t see. I. Don’t. Know.’
Gina dropped her pen on the desk.
‘I do have something.’
Gina and Wyre sat up a little.
‘He was smoking.’
They were looking for a smoker.
‘Can you tell us where you saw him?’ There was a chance he may have left something behind. A cigarette butt, a footprint, anything.
‘There’s a small clearing. You follow the trodden path through the woods from the cut through in the garden. When you reach the oak trees, there is a small clearing. I fell asleep behind one of the oaks, in a bush. That’s where he was. Are you going to put a good word in for me?’
‘That’s all for now. I will add in your file that you cooperated.’
‘You’ll tell them I wasn’t dealing, that my stash is personal?’
Ignoring him, Gina continued. ‘When you went to the toilet, was there anyone else in there who can corroborate your whereabouts?’
‘I was taking a dump and I was on my own in the cubicle. No, I didn’t take anyone in with me.’
‘Did you go upstairs at all?’
‘You’re trying to fix this on me. I didn’t go anywhere but the shitter. I didn’t go up no stairs and I didn’t do anything I weren’t meant to be doing.’
‘That’s not entirely true. You shouldn’t have been in the building.’
‘You know what I mean. Tell them,’ he shouted to Mr Ullah. The solicitor whispered once again and Phillip pointed his shabby boot at the table and kicked the leg again, almost losing his boot. ‘Bloody hell! And I want my laces back.’
‘You know the rules.’ Gina knew he’d get his laces when he eventually left but not while he was in custody. She doubted Phillip Brighton was a suicide risk but the rules were there for a reason. ‘Anything else you can tell us?’
‘My client has been most helpful in your investigations. He’s told you all he knows and has given his full cooperation. I insist on a break so that I can liaise further with Mr Brighton.’
The investigation had just notched up. She was considering Phillip Brighton as a suspect in the case. He was in the building at the time of the murder. He claimed to be in the toilet and no one saw him in there. They had his DNA and fingerprints on file. Question was, would they find evidence of him having been in Holly’s room?
‘Interview ended at ten thirty a.m. on Sunday the tenth of May—’ Phillip leaned back and stretched in the plastic chair. ‘What is that on your jumper?’
‘What?’
Everyone in the room spotted the tiny fleck of red on his yellow jumper. ‘That?’ Gina pointed to the bloody fleck.
‘How would I know?’
Gina leaned in a little closer. ‘It looks like blood to me.’
His eyes widened.
‘There’s no evidence for that,’ Mr Ullah said as he slammed his paperwork down on the table. ‘My client is here to answer to a charge of supplying drugs—’
‘And now I want him to tell me why he has what appears to be blood on his jumper when he was at the scene of a murder last night.’
Phillip Brighton stood and kicked the door. ‘I didn’t do anything. I want to go. Let me go. Let me out.’ He hit the door several times.
‘Sit down, Mr Brighton.’
The man stared as his shoulders dropped. He took two steps back and slumped into his chair.
‘I need your clothes.’ She was sure that Phillip Brighton was shaking in his denim jacket.
He trembled as he almost ripped the jacket from his own back before throwing it onto the table. ‘Have it. Have everything. Have it all!’
He stood and manically shouted and grunted as he began peeling his clothes off. His solicitor tried to whisper something to him but Phillip pushed him away. He pulled the jumper over his head and threw it onto the floor before finally kicking his boots off his feet at the wall.
If the blood on his jumper was a match for any blood samples taken from Holly’s hotel room, Phillip Brighton would have a lot of explaining to do. Gina pulled a pair of gloves from the draw next to the table and snapped them on. She picked up the jumper. ‘We’ll get these to the lab. Thank you for your cooperation. In the meantime, we’ll get you something to wear.’
Chapter Twelve
Cass’s fingers trembled as she opened the message.
Thanks for your thoughts, Cass. I can’t believe what happened. Poor Holly, and our reception was ruined. I don’t know what to do. My mum has barely said a word and my dad keeps telling me everything’s going to be okay. It’s not though, is it? Kerry.
The open message showed Cass that Kerry had begun to type another reply. Cass had to keep the conversation going. Now was her big chance. Kerry stopped typing.
For years, Cass had tried to strike up conversation with Kerry but nothing had worked. Once primary school friends, Cass had found herself dumped in favour of Holly. Timid, little Holly – the girl who would do anything Kerry asked of her. Cass had been the opposite. She was loud and clumsy. Now was the right time to be a friend to Kerry once again. She’d missed her for years. She’d missed having the fancy cakes her mum used to make and the fun sleepovers, when it was just the two of them. Everything was perfect until Holly came on the scene. Lilly and Francesca soon followed and they made up the popular gang. Cass had become history. Not for long though.
Cass twirled a strip of coarse hair between her fingers. She hadn’t fitted in with them all those years ago. Her freckly skin became a little spotty with the early onset of puberty. Her figure became more ample, setting her apart from her athletic peers. Now was her chance to make things right, to get her friend back. With Kerry on side, she could also probe her for information, find out if she knew anything about Elvis and Holly or, indeed, Elvis and anyone. Kerry knew everything, she always did.
Nothing changed with age, it just meant more candles on a cake at the turn of another year. Right now, she felt like that dumped nine-year-old once again, but this time, she was going to fight to win back her friend. With Holly out of the way, she had hope. Gaining Kerry’s trust was a part of the new plan.
Cass hit reply and began typing her message in the little box.
Kerry, what happened was terrible and if there’s anything I can do, just ask. You’re one of my oldest friends and it hurt like hell to see you so upset yesterday. I know we haven’t spoken in a while but a friendship like ours never dies. I’m totally here for you. Just ask. Anytime. Shall I pop over to your house?