Bett was angry.
She fiddled with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, looked around the room, and avoided eye contact.
‘What about a cup of tea?’ Jossie offered.
That got a response. ‘Yes, please.’
When Jossie brought the tea from the kitchen, Bett looked with disdain at the polystyrene cup and its insipid brown liquid.
‘Sorry,’ Jossie said. ‘We don’t run to Earl Grey in teapots here.’
‘Are we ready to begin?’ I asked.
When Bett nodded, I told her of her rights and pressed a button to begin recording the interview.
‘You refer to the deceased as Hobie? Do you know his full name?’
Bett seemed now to have decided to cooperate. ‘He went by the name Herbert Stanley.’
‘Went by? Are you saying it wasn’t his real name?’
‘Of course not.’ Bett couldn’t contain her sarcasm. ‘It couldn’t b
