Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [26]
And so - because he didn't really know what else he could usefully say - Jonas Holly made a serious mistake.
He apologized.
'I'm sorry, sir,' he said, 'if I gave you a fright.'
The glamorous assistant with a sword through her leg, the dead rabbit in the hat.
'You didn't give me a fright, you fucking moron! I almost fucking killed you, that's all! You don't know how close you fucking came!' Marvel bumped round the Formica table and held his thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart an inch from Jonas's nose.
'This close! This fucking close!'
'Yes, sir,' said Jonas, unable to meet Marvel's eyes to lend honesty to his answer.
Marvel glared up at him and Jonas felt himself starting to detach. He'd done all he could here. He'd done the right thing. If it hadn't worked then he would just have to let Marvel decide how this would play out.
Marvel watched Jonas's face go blank and knew he was hiding his real feelings. Knew he was hating him inside. Somehow that made Marvel feel a little better - that Jonas had to hide his feelings, while he - as the senior officer - was allowed to give vent to his.
'What was your name again?
'Jonas Holly, sir.'
Jonas felt cool now. Felt no need to justify himself or his actions. Felt comfortably distant. He'd seen the panic in Marvel's eyes as he cocked up the simple task of opening the door. He'd offered the man a graceful exit from embarrassment and Marvel had not only declined to accept that offer but Jonas had the distinct suspicion that the DCI was going to make him suffer for it.
'What's your take on this, Holly?'
'On what, sir?'
Marvel rolled his eyes and waved a brief arm at Margaret Priddy's house. 'This! What do you think of this case?'
Jonas was careful. He shrugged. He looked around. 'Um, I'm not sure, sir.'
'None of us are sure, Holly. If we were sure, we'd have caught the killer.'
'Yes, sir.'
'You think it's a local?'
'No, sir.'
Marvel raised his eyebrows. 'Interesting,' he said.
Jonas didn't like Marvel questioning him. He felt like a calf being corralled into the corner of a barn. Nothing bad was happening right now, but a veal crate was always a possibility. 'I only mean that I know everyone in Shipcott. Pretty much. Not everyone in the other villages, but in Shipcott I do. And I can't think of anyone who might have done this.'
Marvel pursed his lips and nodded as if it was all sinking in. Which it was.
'What about this Ronnie Trewell?'
'Skew Ronnie? He's a car thief.'
'Maybe he's moving up in the world.'
Jonas couldn't help smiling. 'Have you spoken to him, sir?'
'Not yet.'
'He's not moving anywhere. He's harmless. He's not ... quite ... right.' Jonas waved at his temple with his forefinger. 'You know?'
'The Yorkshire Ripper wasn't quite right, Holly.'
'Yes, sir.'
'What about Peter Priddy?'
'As the killer?'
'No, for president.'
Jonas ignored the sarcasm. 'I think it's highly unlikely.'
'Because you know him?'
'No, because I know what he's like.'
'And what is he like, Holly?'
'He's all right. Nothing special. He's just a good bloke.'
'So Trewell is harmless and Priddy's a good bloke. Convincing,' said Marvel waspishly.
Jonas was sick of standing in the corner of the barn. 'Don't you have any forensic evidence, sir?'
'That you didn't put your grubby great mitts all over?'
Jonas flushed deeply and realized he'd backed into the crate all by himself. Marvel wasn't being nice. He wasn't sharing. He'd just been waiting for his chance to get Jonas back for the fright at the door - he could see that now, but it was too late.
'And now I hear you've been doing our fucking job, Holly - bumbling about asking questions before we can go in.'
'People keep asking what we're doing, sir. What I'm doing. As the local officer I thought