Death Row - Mark Pearson [95]
‘Big of him!’ said Duncton.
The governor shook his head apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, detective – he’s only agreed to talk to Inspector Delaney.’
‘That’s outrageous.’
The governor held his hands out. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’
‘You are aware that yesterday we found the body of a child he murdered fifteen years ago and kept on ice as a souvenir?’
‘I do know, yes. But the point is, inspector, that he has already confessed to those murders, been tried and sentenced. Finding the body now makes no difference. We can’t charge him again, can we?’
‘He had an accomplice,’ said Duncton. ‘Somebody who knew where the body was. We know that now and he hasn’t been charged, has he?’
‘Not yet,’ said Delaney pointedly.
‘He’s playing us for fools.’
‘Why don’t you sit down, Robert? Have a cup of tea. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.’
Duncton was certainly turning an unhealthy shade of red. He sat down and loosened his collar. ‘I’ll be waiting here,’ he snapped at Delaney.
Delaney nodded and turned to the governor. ‘You’ve been through the records and are absolutely sure that the only visitor he has ever had was Maureen Gallagher?’
‘Absolutely positive.’
‘What about mail?’
‘He has never received any mail. He has no living relatives, as far as we know.’
‘Did he have any particular friends inside? Anyone who has been released recently?’
The governor shook his head. ‘Nobody has been released from the segregated section for over nine months and nobody is due to be released.’
‘We’ll need the records of all those who have been released from that unit since he has been a prisoner here,’ said Duncton.
The governor nodded. ‘I’ll get on to it. You think he might have … what? Trained an apprentice from here?’
‘It’s possible.’
Delaney shook his head. ‘I think he’s had an accomplice all along and is somehow getting messages to him. What about the guards?’
‘What about them?’
‘Is he ever alone with one of them? Is one of them given particular responsibility for him?’
The governor shook his head again. ‘There’s always a minimum of two guards with him at any time when he is being moved or being treated. It’s prison policy.’
‘Why?’ asked Duncton.
‘Should any accident befall a prisoner …’
‘Which happens,’ said Delaney darkly.
‘Which happens,’ agreed the governor. ‘So protocols are in place.’
‘And in the interview room?’
‘We’ll have eyes on you again, inspector, if not ears. The guards will be just outside at all times.’
‘If they need to come in, tell them not to hurry.’
*
Peter Garnier had his eyes closed. He was humming a tune to himself. Delaney thought it sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. The door closed behind him. He pulled a chair across, sat down and stared at Garnier without speaking.
After sixty seconds Garnier opened his eyes. Blinking behind the thick lenses of his glasses. ‘The first person to speak loses. Is that it?’
Delaney didn’t reply.
Garnier smiled. His lips thin, bloodless.
Delaney could picture the disease working its way through him. Destroying the neurons in his brain. Some time in the future and he wouldn’t be able to control his balance, movement, speech or even the ability to swallow. The soulless obscenity of the disease. Delaney used to think that nobody deserved it. But Garnier did. He just hoped the drugs they were giving him kept him alive as long as possible. The longer he suffered the better.
‘I’ll make a deal with you, Inspector Delaney,’ said Garnier.
‘I don’t make deals with pond scum.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘To look you in the face and tell you it’s over.’
‘You’re here to make a bargain. You need my help and you know it.’
‘You’ll die eventually, Garnier. And like I promised, when you do I’ll come and piss on your grave.’
‘What is it the media are calling my old stomping ground? Death Row, isn’t it?’
Again, Delaney didn’t reply.
‘But we’re all living on Death Row, Delaney. We’re all going to die. It’s when and how that’s important.’
‘You are going to die alone and in pain.’
‘Do you know what the Apache Indians believed?’ Garnier didn’t wait