Garnethill by Denise Mina Read Online Free Page B
Author: Garnethill
Without looking at him McEwan nudged Inness, telling him to take over.
Inness asked her all the same questions he had asked her at the house, again nodding and yessing her answers. She told them who Douglas was, about Elsbeth and that his mother was an MEP. The two policemen glanced at each other nervously. Inness asked her what her shoe size was, and why she hadn't reported the murder last night. She hadn't looked into the living room, it was to the right of the front door and the bedroom was to the left, so there was no reason for her to pass it unless she had been to the toilet. She went straight to bed because she was pissed.
Inness left long pauses after Maureen imparted each bit of information, expecting her to panic at the silence and fill in the spaces with important clues. Maureen had seen a lot of psychiatrists in her time and knew what he was doing. She found it familiar and calming, as if, among all the confusion, she had stumbled across a set of rules she understood. She did what she had always done with the long-pause technique: she sat and looked at the person interviewing her, her face blank, waiting for them to notice that it wouldn't work. The professional thing to do was stare back at her, take it on the chin and then try something else, but Inness couldn't. He looked at everything in the room, his eyes rolling around, swerving past Maureen to the back wall and over her head to the tape recorder. He gave up and flicked back and forth through the pages of his notebook, looking increasingly confused.
McEwan took over. "Who has a key to your house apart from yourself, Miss O'Donnell?"
"Urn, my brother, Liam, Douglas, and that's it. Oh, I suppose the factor would have one."
"What's the factor's name?"
She told him and guessed at the phone number. McEwan wrote it down in a notebook. "I'm not sure that's the right number," she said.
"It's okay," he said, pleased at her willingness to cooperate. "We can look it up. Where can we find your brother?"
She couldn't let them turn up at Liam's house unannounced — she knew he left stuff lying around all the time. It would frighten the shit out of him if nothing else. He'd never had a scrape with the law. "Urn," she said, "he's staying with some friends at the moment, I'll bring him down if you want to talk to him."
McEwan wasn't pleased. "Can't we contact him?"
"Well, the people he's staying with aren't on the phone. They're difficult to get a hold of. I'll get him for you."
"Well, okay," said McEwan, raising his eyebrows insistently, creasing his forehead into three deep parallel ridges. She thought he must make that face a lot. "But we need to see him today ."
"I'll bring him down, I promise. Why was it so hot in the house?"
He looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"It's not usually that hot in the house."
He nudged Inness to make a note of it and turned back to Maureen. "So Douglas had his own key?" he asked diffidently.
"Yes."
"Did you let him into your house yesterday?"
"No, the last time I saw him was on Monday. He stayed the night and left in the morning before I got up."
"Did he mention anything to you about being threatened by anyone, arguing with anyone, being followed, anything like that?"
Maureen thought back over the night's conversation. He was tired when he came in, he didn't even kiss her as he came through the door. He took his shoes off and sat on the settee telling her the usual gossip, the usual moaning appraisal of the people he worked with. Nothing different. They didn't have sex. Douglas fell asleep a minute after getting into bed and Maureen lay wide-awake next to him and watched him dribble saliva onto the pillow. They hadn't had sex for five weeks. Douglas had begun to recoil when she touched him, he rarely even kissed her now.
"Not that I remember," she said.
McEwan scribbled something in a notepad. "And that was the last time you saw him?" he said, without looking up.
"Yeah."
"Except for this morning," observed Inness
Inness asked her all the same questions he had asked her at the house, again nodding and yessing her answers. She told them who Douglas was, about Elsbeth and that his mother was an MEP. The two policemen glanced at each other nervously. Inness asked her what her shoe size was, and why she hadn't reported the murder last night. She hadn't looked into the living room, it was to the right of the front door and the bedroom was to the left, so there was no reason for her to pass it unless she had been to the toilet. She went straight to bed because she was pissed.
Inness left long pauses after Maureen imparted each bit of information, expecting her to panic at the silence and fill in the spaces with important clues. Maureen had seen a lot of psychiatrists in her time and knew what he was doing. She found it familiar and calming, as if, among all the confusion, she had stumbled across a set of rules she understood. She did what she had always done with the long-pause technique: she sat and looked at the person interviewing her, her face blank, waiting for them to notice that it wouldn't work. The professional thing to do was stare back at her, take it on the chin and then try something else, but Inness couldn't. He looked at everything in the room, his eyes rolling around, swerving past Maureen to the back wall and over her head to the tape recorder. He gave up and flicked back and forth through the pages of his notebook, looking increasingly confused.
McEwan took over. "Who has a key to your house apart from yourself, Miss O'Donnell?"
"Urn, my brother, Liam, Douglas, and that's it. Oh, I suppose the factor would have one."
"What's the factor's name?"
She told him and guessed at the phone number. McEwan wrote it down in a notebook. "I'm not sure that's the right number," she said.
"It's okay," he said, pleased at her willingness to cooperate. "We can look it up. Where can we find your brother?"
She couldn't let them turn up at Liam's house unannounced — she knew he left stuff lying around all the time. It would frighten the shit out of him if nothing else. He'd never had a scrape with the law. "Urn," she said, "he's staying with some friends at the moment, I'll bring him down if you want to talk to him."
McEwan wasn't pleased. "Can't we contact him?"
"Well, the people he's staying with aren't on the phone. They're difficult to get a hold of. I'll get him for you."
"Well, okay," said McEwan, raising his eyebrows insistently, creasing his forehead into three deep parallel ridges. She thought he must make that face a lot. "But we need to see him today ."
"I'll bring him down, I promise. Why was it so hot in the house?"
He looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"It's not usually that hot in the house."
He nudged Inness to make a note of it and turned back to Maureen. "So Douglas had his own key?" he asked diffidently.
"Yes."
"Did you let him into your house yesterday?"
"No, the last time I saw him was on Monday. He stayed the night and left in the morning before I got up."
"Did he mention anything to you about being threatened by anyone, arguing with anyone, being followed, anything like that?"
Maureen thought back over the night's conversation. He was tired when he came in, he didn't even kiss her as he came through the door. He took his shoes off and sat on the settee telling her the usual gossip, the usual moaning appraisal of the people he worked with. Nothing different. They didn't have sex. Douglas fell asleep a minute after getting into bed and Maureen lay wide-awake next to him and watched him dribble saliva onto the pillow. They hadn't had sex for five weeks. Douglas had begun to recoil when she touched him, he rarely even kissed her now.
"Not that I remember," she said.
McEwan scribbled something in a notepad. "And that was the last time you saw him?" he said, without looking up.
"Yeah."
"Except for this morning," observed Inness
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