I Know It Was You

Chapter 6

SIX

Despite being held for hours in a cell, or possibly because of it, Doherty’s truculence had not abated. ‘This is police harassment,’ he shouted as Grace and Terry entered and sat down opposite him. ‘Gonna sue you, b***h,’ he snarled at Grace, who chose to ignore him. To respond would give Doherty the impression that he had succeeded in riling her.

He again rejected the services of a duty solicitor, ‘I’m innocent,’ he repeated, ‘so why do I need a f*****g solicitor?’ whilst at the same time claiming that he was being ‘fitted up’

Once the interview formally commenced, Terry operated his laptop and brought up an image of the Apollo Slant Mountain Bike recovered from the canal.

‘I am showing the suspect the photograph of a mountain bike, exhibit number MK/12D. Eoin, have you ever seen this bicycle before?’ Terry asked.

‘Nah, nah, never.’ Doherty said, but his eyes betrayed agitation.

‘It was recovered from the canal earlier today. Are you sure you’ve never seen it before?’

‘Well, maybe seen other bikes, similar bikes around, dead common aren’t they, know what I mean? But not that one.’

‘Are you certain, look again?’

‘Nah, told you, never seen it before.’

‘If you have never seen this particular bike before, how do you account for your fingerprints being on it?’ Terry asked, leaning forward to gauge Doherty’s reaction.

The shock on Doherty’s face was total. He gulped heavily several times, his eyes darting left and right as he sought to talk away the damning evidence. Grace could almost hear the cogs of his brain turning, wild thoughts and excuses, outrageous lies and desperate ideas all tangled up in his seething braincells.

Grace and Terry wait patiently for Doherty to come up with an answer, enjoying his discomfort as he wriggled on that baited hook.

‘Yeah, remember now,’ he said at last, ‘borrowed it a few days ago from a kid in Easedale.’

‘Of course, you did,’ said Terry, barely able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. ‘What’s his name, this generous kid from Easedale who lent you his bike?’

‘Er… can’t think just at the minute.’

‘You can’t think of the name of your kind friend who lent you this very nice bike?’ Terry pressed.

Doherty shook his head confusedly. ‘Yeah, got it …Wayne, yeah Wayne.’

‘Wayne?’ queried Grace. ‘Wayne who?’

‘Er…Rooney’ Doherty answered with the first name that came into his head.

‘Wayne Rooney lent you this bike?’ Terry said incredulously.

‘Nah, nah Clooney not Rooney, that’s it. Wayne Clooney.’

‘Wayne Clooney? Thank you. Eoin,’ said Grace, ‘he shouldn’t be too hard to track down, and verify your story, should he? Terry, would you please check the Electoral Register for families called Clooney in the Easedale area.’

A look of panic crossed Doherty’s face as he realised his rapidly put together story was falling apart. ’Yeah, yeah,’ he said, ‘Yeah, I nicked the bike, it was in some stupid sod’s front garden, just asking to be nicked weren’t it? But I only kept it for a couple of days because…because somebody then nicked it from me.’

‘When was this? When you stole the bike and when you say it was stolen in turn from you?’ Grace asked quickly.

‘Must be what?’ Doherty stopped to think, working out the timescale in his head as Grace checked her notes, not that she needed to as every moment since receiving that first telephone call advising of a stabbing was imprinted in her mind.

Mohammed Khan had been killed on Monday afternoon, the first briefing was held early Tuesday morning, then the post-mortem. Danny and Fred’s identification late that morning, Doherty’s arrest and the first interview just after lunch. The canal search that afternoon and the recovery of the bike and knife as Doherty held overnight. Now it was late Wednesday afternoon and Grace and most of her team had had little in the way of sleep. That could come later. Maybe!

‘Yeah, must have been three or four days ago, maybe even five,’ Doherty answered confidently.

‘Which is it, three, four or five days ago?’ Grace pressed.

‘OK, five days ago, definitely five days ago, Saturday. I nicked it in the morning, went for a drink at the… ‘Black Bull’ on Fulford Street and some bastard half-inched when I was inside having a pint or three.’ Doherty smirked, sitting back, well pleased with himself.

‘So, you’re saying you stole this bike on Saturday, is that correct?’

‘Told you, didn’t I?’

‘That’s strange, the owners of that bike were away all weekend and locked the bike in the garage. Did you break into the garage as well?’ Terry asked, a thin smile crossing his face.

‘Course not, must be a different bike then, in’t it?’

‘Afraid not. You see this security mark?’ Terry asked, showing Doherty a close-up, ‘it tells us exactly who owns the bike, a bike which was stolen on Monday morning. Not Saturday. A bike with your fingerprints on it.’

‘A bike that dash cam and CCTV show you riding on Monday, both before and after you stabbed Mohammed Khan to death!’ Grace pressed, watching the colour bleed out from Doherty’s face.

‘Told you, it weren’t me. Them films, dash cam films, could be anybody on the bike.’

‘However, it was you. We know it was you.’ persisted Grace.

Doherty paused for a moment, wiped his nose on the back of his hand before asking for a break. ‘Need a piss,’ he said crudely, trying to take back some control of the interview. Grace nodded OK to Terry, who switched off the recorder and Doherty was then escorted to the washrooms.

‘Yeah, yeah, OK, so you got me,’ Doherty said, once the interview recommenced. having thought of his answer whilst in the toilet. ‘I did nick the bike Monday morning, but I dumped it near them railway arches, them arches where trains don’t go over no more.’

‘Victoria Arches?’

‘Yeah, ditched it there.’

‘Why? Because you knew that you had been seen on that bike after the stabbing.’ Terry pressed, leaning forward into Doherty’s space.

‘Nah, not me, told you. it were… too small, that’s why, kept banging me knees on the handlebars.’

‘OK. Let’s move on to another topic, ‘said Terry after a pre-arranged nod from Grace. ‘I’m now showing the suspect an image of a knife, a kitchen knife of Chinese manufacture with a 6” blade. Tell me Eoin, have you ever seen this knife before?’

‘Shouldn’t think so. Don’t do much cooking, do I? Mostly pizza, kebabs, and fish ‘n’ chips for me. oh, and burgers, love a good burger, me,’ Doherty answered with a cocky grin, even though he was clearly agitated about the presentation of the knife to him.

‘So why would your fingerprints be on this knife, Eoin?’

‘Probably cut me burger or pizza up with it, that’s why?’

‘OK, fair enough, but why would this knife, which also show traces of Mohammed Khan’s blood on it. have been found in the canal?’ Terry asked. Doherty rocked back in his chair, convinced he had thoroughly wiped the knife before throwing it into the canal. He thought furiously, thinking of ways to explain it away.

‘I… er, it were nicked from the house one day. Months back. Yeah. That’s it. You ask me ma, she’ll tell you.’

‘I’m more than certain that your mother will perjure herself for you, but do you honestly believe that we are going to accept that somebody broke into your house to steal a £5 kitchen knife?’ Grace asked, the disbelief at the ridiculous story evident in her voice.

‘Believe what you f*****g like, it’s the truth.’

‘So, what you are saying is that you stole this bike,’ Terry stated, pointing to the image on the screen, ‘which you then later dumped by the Victoria Arches and that somebody, somebody unknown, had previously broken into your house to steal this knife,’ again bringing up the image, ‘and that this same unknown kitchen knife thief, in a million to one chance suddenly found the bike you stole and then abandoned and that he must be the killer. Is that it? Not very plausible is it?’

‘Maybe, but all I know is that is that not me as killed that Paki.’

‘His name was Mohammed Khan.’

‘Whatever, still not me as did him.’

‘Do you expect us to believe that nonsense and just let you go,’ Terry snapped.

‘Don’t give a s**t what you believe, that’s what happened, and I’m saying nowt else,’ he said with false bravado, as if saying loud enough and often enough would make it true. And then, as if suddenly remembering how a tough-guy hard-man is supposed to act, the only thing he would say in answer to further questions was ‘no comment’

At that, Grace terminated the interview and then sought and obtained an extension to Doherty’s detention.