Murder Club - Mark Pearson [52]
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And George-fecking-Napier can kiss my black Irish arse.’
‘Glad to hear it, sir.’
‘Detective Inspector Delaney!’
Delaney didn’t know who had called out to him from the gaggle of press outside Michael Robinson’s front door. Because they were all shouting the same thing.
Delaney held a hand up to silence them. ‘I have no comment to make at this time,’ he said and pushed through them, Sally Cartwright trailing in his wake.
Delaney let the noise wash over him. Aware of the photo flashes bursting behind him, but not much caring.
A short while later and the door opened. Michael Robinson blinked at the barrage of white light that ensued, then smiled.
‘Detective Inspector Delaney. What a pleasant surprise!’
‘Good. May we come in?’
‘I’m not sure that would be appropriate under the circumstances.’
Delaney stepped forward so that Robinson had to take a step backwards. ‘Come on, Detective Constable,’ he said to Sally. ‘The nice man is going to put the kettle on.’
He took hold of Robinson’s arm and steered him further inside. Sally followed closely behind and shut the door.
‘What do you want, Delaney?’ Robinson asked, all veneer of politeness stripped away as they stood in his hall.
‘You sent me some mail, Robinson. I’m sending it back.’ He took out the summons that he had been served in the Viaduct Tavern and tossed it against the man’s chest.
Robinson let the envelope fall to the floor. ‘It makes no difference. You’ve been served, Detective Inspector. I’ll see you in court.’
‘I’ll see you in hell first.’
Robinson grinned. It made Sally Cartwright’s skin creep as he looked at her. ‘I hope you’re making notes of all this, Detective Constable? Sounds like your boss was threatening me.’
‘See, that’s where matters of opinion vary,’ Sally replied with a sweet smile of her own. ‘What I heard the detective inspector say to you is that he won’t need to see you in court on a trumped-up civil case. Because the CPS will have you banged up long before that.’
‘The case was thrown out of court.’
‘For now. But you know that you are cowardly rapist scum. I know you are, and what is more important … is that Detective Inspector Delaney does too. And he really doesn’t like people like you.’
Robinson kept the grin on his face. ‘I couldn’t really give a shit what you or DI Bogtrotter of the Yard here thinks. You have nothing on me, and you know it.’
Delaney stepped forward and grabbed the man in the groin.
‘You’re hurting me,’ Robinson said through clenched teeth.
‘Ah that’s a shame.’ Delaney looked over his shoulder at Sally Cartwright. ‘See, that’s the thing about bullies, rapists and paedophiles – they’re all cowards at heart.’
‘I’m no paedophile!’ said Robinson, his eyes watering.
‘You mentioned my partner and child, on the phone this morning. I just came here to tell you. You go near either one of them and you, my friend, are a dead man!’ Delaney squeezed his hand and Robinson stood up on his toes. ‘We have a congruence of understanding on this matter?’
Michael Robinson nodded his head and Delaney released him.
‘You’re crazy,’ said Robinson, his breath ragged.
‘Certifiable,’ Sally Cartwright agreed.
‘I’m a stone-cold killer. You’d do well to remember it.’
Robinson cowered back against the wall, unable to meet Delaney’s gaze.
Delaney gestured to Sally Cartwright and they left. Robinson took a moment to collect himself. ‘Motherfucker,’ he said in a low whisper, then ‘Motherfucker!’ more loudly. Calming his breathing, he snatched up the phone stabbing in some numbers. ‘We have to meet,’ he said when the call was answered.
37.
OUTSIDE IN DELANEY’S car, Sally put the key into the ignition and looked across at her boss. ‘Did you mean what you said in there, sir?’ she asked.
‘Every fucking word.’
Sally thought about it for a moment and turned the engine over. She guessed he had his reasons.
Bible Steve was sitting up looking at his bruised knuckles. Sergeant Dave Matthews stood beside him at the head of his bed. Dr Chilvers waited by the door.
‘Just tell us what you remember?’ said the sergeant.