‘I told all this to that policewoman yesterday. Why have I got to go through it all again? It’s not something I really want to remember,’ Charles Manson said in an aggrieved voice.
‘I fully understand that, Mr Manson, but we need to have a more formal interview for the records. I’m sure you can appreciate that,’ Terry advised in as soothing voice as he could muster.
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’
‘Mr Manson … or may I call you Charles?’
‘Sure, why not?’
Charles Manson was a somewhat corpulent man in his mid-forties. He had an apparent nervous disposition, frequently tugging at his left ear, and blinking rapidly as he did so. He was clearly uneasy about being questioned again and Terry wondered why.
‘You were walking your dog …’ Terry began when Manson interrupted him.
‘It’s not my dog. I hat
