Chapter 18
1003 Words
18
Jack and Wendy walked into the interview room and sat down, John Lucas having already been seated across the table next to his solicitor, a chubby man by the name of Matthew Chamberlain, who looked as if he’d been dragged out of the pub to be here.
Wendy was the first to speak. ‘Okay, John. We want to speak to you with regards to an event that took place last night in the village of Little Walgrave. Have you ever been there?’
Lucas looked at his solicitor, who nodded to indicate that he should talk. ‘I’ve probably passed through a few times, in the car. It’s not far away from here.’
‘And do you know anyone who lives there?’
Lucas was silent for a few moments. ‘Depends what you mean by that.’
‘Tell us what you mean by it,’ Wendy said.
‘Freddie Galloway lives there. Lived there,’ he corrected himself. ‘But I wasn’t exactly best mates with him, so if you mean was there anyone there who I’d go and visit, the answer’s no.’
‘We’re not talking about visits, though, are we?’ Culverhouse interrupted. ‘We’re talking about a case of arson. So, tell us more about why you weren’t exactly best mates with Freddie Galloway.’
Lucas looked down at his lap and let out a noise that sounded like it came from somewhere between a laugh and a snort of disbelief. ‘You already know all this. I was caught and sent down. I’ve done my time.’
‘With respect, that doesn’t tell us anything,’ Wendy said. ‘Was there bad blood between you and Freddie Galloway?’
Chamberlain leaned over and whispered something in his client’s ear.
Lucas looked up at Wendy. ‘Look, everyone knows I didn’t like him. But I didn’t do anything to him. I’ve changed, alright? You can ask anyone. I wouldn’t have been paroled if they thought I was a danger to anyone, so why would I go and burn a bloke’s house down hours later? I’ve learned to forgive and forget.’
‘Tell us more about what made you hate Freddie Galloway in the first place, Mr Lucas,’ Culverhouse said.
The solicitor interrupted. ‘Is this line of questioning really necessary, Chief Inspector? My client has already told you that he no longer bore a grudge against Mr Galloway.’
‘I think it is, yes,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Because, let’s face it, we only have your client’s word for it that he’s a reformed character.’
‘His and that of the parole board,’ Chamberlain added.
‘Which, in my vast experience, can easily be swayed by a prisoner who knows how to say the right things. Which,’ Culverhouse quickly added, to deflect the solicitor’s obvious next remark, ‘is not what I’m claiming your client has done, but does need to be considered as a possibility.’
Chamberlain looked at Lucas and nodded reluctantly.
Lucas sighed before speaking. ‘He tucked me up. He tucked us all up in his own way. He knew damn well there was a far better escape route on that job. The one he took himself. The one he took, leaving me and Peter to face the music. And the time inside.’
‘Peter being Benjamin Newell?’ Wendy asked.
‘If that’s what your information tells you. I didn’t know anyone’s real names.’
‘You knew Freddie Galloway’s,’ Culverhouse remarked.
‘Only because you used his name first,’ Lucas replied, after a moment or two.
‘You named him when you were arrested over the Trenton-Lowe job. Then you retracted it.’
‘I was scared. I was pressured into naming names. I got it wrong.’
‘No you didn’t. You knew exactly who we were talking about, didn’t you?’
Lucas looked at his brief.
‘Detective Chief Inspector, can we get onto the matter of the crime itself? You’ve arrested my client for arson, yet all you seem to want to talk about is an event that happened eleven years ago and which seems to have no apparent connection to the crime you’ve arrested him for.’
Culverhouse looked at the solicitor and smiled. ‘Certainly. Where were you on the evening of the nineteenth and early hours of the twentieth, John?’
‘I was at home. My mother’s old home. She left it to me. It’s mine now.’
‘Can anyone verify that?’
‘What, that it’s my home?’
Culverhouse eyed the man for a moment, letting him know silently that if anyone in this room was going to make cocky comments, it was going to be him.
‘No, can anyone verify that you were there for the whole of last night?’ Wendy asked.
‘I live alone,’ Lucas said, smiling slightly.
Culverhouse c****d his head. ‘I don’t know what you’re smiling for, Mr Lucas. Your sworn enemy is killed in an arson attack hours after you get let out of prison — time you were serving for a job he abandoned you to get caught on — and you’ve got no alibi for the time of the attack. I don’t think I’d be smiling if I were in your position.’
Lucas laughed. ‘Why do you have this obsession with him being my “sworn enemy”? He was nothing of the sort. He was a bloke who f****d me over years ago. s**t happens. All that matters is how you deal with it.’
‘And how did you deal with it?’ Culverhouse asked him.
‘I learned to forgive and forget. Prison gives you a lot of time to think.’
‘And brood.’
Matthew Chamberlain, the solicitor, interjected. ‘Detective Chief Inspector, the custody clock is ticking and so far we haven’t got past you trying to convince my client that he was meant to hate Freddie Galloway. What, exactly, is the purpose of an interview if you’re going to ignore everything he says and try to convince him otherwise?’
‘Mr Chamberlain, I’m trying to get to the bottom of who set fire to Freddie Galloway’s house, causing him to fall to his death. And, right now, circumstances are pointing heavily towards your client. That’s why we’re questioning him. That’s our job.’
‘Circumstances, Detective Chief Inspector. Circumstantial evidence. Nothing that will stand up in court, in other words.’
Culverhouse gritted his teeth. ‘We’ve got officers searching Mr Lucas’s property as we speak. Arresting him gives us the chance to speak to him under caution and question his version of events.’
‘With respect, my client doesn’t have a version of events. He’s already told you he wasn’t there. He was at his house, the house your officers are currently searching. God knows what for, seeing as he hadn’t set foot in the place for eleven years until last night.’
‘In which case, your client has nothing to worry about, does he?’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Unless, of course, the officers find some sort of forensic evidence that links to the events at Freddie Galloway’s house. Now, that’d be a rather tricky one to explain, don’t you think?’
Matthew Chamberlain looked at his client, who simply sat back in his chair and folded his arms.
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