Steven Dunne - Deity

‘She recognised Kyle’s voice in the broadcast?’ ventured Brook.

Noble nodded. ‘Bye bye Wilson.’

‘It doesn’t mean Kyle was shooting the film or spoke to Wilson as he drowned. It could’ve been recorded at any time in a completely different context and added later.’

‘I told her. The technicians are on it.’

‘How’s she holding up?’

‘Okay. Patel’s with her.’

‘What can I do for you, Len?’

Poole looked up from the hard chair. He held Brook’s eye for a moment before breaking into a grin and looking round the room. ‘I can see why people crack up in these places,’ he said. ‘They’re not exactly welcoming.’

‘That’s the idea.’ Brook moved from the door to sit at the table opposite Poole. ‘DS Noble’s bringing us tea, if that’ll help.’

‘A cigarette would help more. If you’ve got one.’

Brook smiled faintly. The guilty smoked like laboratory beagles in the Interview Rooms. ‘I will have when DS Noble gets here. I didn’t know you smoked.’

‘Just the occasional one when I’m on my own. When you’ve spent a lifetime dealing in death. .’

‘At least I won’t need to explain the health risks to you,’ observed Brook.

Poole laughed. ‘No. I’ve seen a few Grow Bags in my time. That’s what we used to call heavily tarred lungs in my day,’ he explained. ‘Though tumours were the only things that grew there.’

‘You sound like you miss it, Len.’

‘Sometimes I do, but only because it was a part of me when I was younger. That’s what nostalgia is really.’

‘A desire to be young again?’

‘Young, innocent, carefree.’

‘It’s a myth, Len. Kyle’s predicament should tell you that much.’

Poole lowered his head. ‘I suppose.’

Noble entered carrying a tray of plastic cups and set them down. ‘No sugar, sorry.’

‘I’m sweet enough.’ Poole grinned. Neither officer cracked a smile.

‘So what’s a life of indolence like?’ asked Brook.

‘Can’t complain,’ answered Poole. ‘I’ve got a decent pension and Eileen left me well looked after, God rest her soul.’

‘Good to be back in Derby?’ asked Brook innocently. ‘Seeing old friends.’

Poole paused and took a sip of tea. ‘It’s okay. I’m only here until Kyle finishes college and Alice sells the house. Then it’s back to Chester.’

‘Back to your voluntary work,’ said Noble.

Poole stiffened. ‘Voluntary work?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Noble without a trace of apology in his voice. ‘I thought I read somewhere that you worked with orphans.’ He smiled politely to drive up the temperature. Just wait, Brook had always taught him. The guilty abhorred silence — they always talked through it, not about their guilt, not at first, but about anything that came into their heads. Eventually, if you were prepared to wait long enough, the drivel ran out and the only thing left to talk about was their confession.

‘Yvette,’ said Poole, nodding, as though the link were selfevident. Then he hardened his features. He wasn’t here to defend himself when attack would be the better foot forward. After all, he was a professional, a well-respected man, a man with qualifications and expertise, a man with a certain standing in the community and, best of all, though he prided himself on never being blase about it, he had money. ‘I don’t know what she’s been telling you, Inspector, but there’s something I think you need to know about that woman.’

‘Yvette?’ asked Brook.

‘She’s delusional, Inspector — a complete fantasist. It’s tragic really, but not atypical for an orphan to develop these fantasies.’

‘And what sort of fantasy would Miss Thomson want to tell us?’ asked Noble.

‘I don’t know why I’m even mentioning this,’ said Poole, looking at the older detective for understanding.

‘Sure you do,’ replied Brook.

Poole briefly put his head in his hands then sat straight and stared defiantly back at his inquisitors. ‘Yvette thinks that she and I have a relationship — a sexual relationship.’

Brook and Noble’s expressions didn’t change. They gazed evenly at Poole, declining to give him a hint of their reaction.

‘And do you?’ asked Brook finally.

Poole did his best to look Brook in the eye. ‘No.’

‘And have you ever had such a relationship?’ asked Brook.

‘How dare you ask me that!’ shouted Poole.

‘How dare I?’ Brook shouted back, standing up and knocking over his chair. ‘I didn’t ask to see you. You came to us, and if you want to sit there playing games and looking coy, you can leave now. I’m not here to whitewash your version of history. I’ve got four young people to find and I don’t want my time wasted.’ Brook made to leave and beckoned Noble to join him with a flick of his head.

‘Inspector,’ said Poole. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’ Brook and Noble stood frozen by the door. ‘Please sit down.’

Brook, apparently reluctantly, moved back to pick up his chair. Noble followed suit, trying to hide his amusement behind a hand. Brook’s ‘Bad Cop’ was a rare sight and all the more convincing for it.

‘We’re listening.’

‘I’m worried. Yvette — she’s unstable. I’m afraid she might do something to hurt me or even Alice.’

Brook hid his surprise well. He wished he could turn on the tape recorder but Poole was not under arrest or caution. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because you were right. I did have a sexual relationship with her once.’

‘When?’

‘A long time ago.’

‘When?’

Poole knew better than to answer the question. ‘You should’ve seen her, Inspector. You think she’s pretty now.’ He shook his head. ‘Boy, she was something back then. She knew all the tricks. I was putty in her hands.’

‘Where did you first meet her?’

Poole laughed. ‘I knew as soon as Kyle disappeared that it would come to this.’

‘What?’

‘That you’d do background checks, that you’d discover Yvette and I knew each other. And from where.’

‘I’d still prefer you tell us.’

‘St Asaph’s School for Boys and Girls. It was an orphanage a few miles from Chester. I joined the Board of Trustees.’

‘How old was she when you met her?’

‘She was fourteen. Her mother had died. But I deny anything untoward took place at the orphanage.’

‘So would I, in your shoes. Nevertheless, while Yvette was in care, she got pregnant and gave birth to Russell at the age of fifteen.’

Poole’s tone became almost haughty. ‘Well, I’m not the father, Inspector. Like I said, nothing improper happened between us.’

‘Was it your decision to let Yvette keep the baby at the orphanage?’

Poole hesitated. ‘Partly.’

‘How would that work?’

‘We had suitable family quarters away from the rest of the residents. It seemed. . unnecessary to separate mother and child.’

‘Especially if you were over a barrel and had to do as you were told,’ sneered Noble.

‘I’m not the father,’ insisted Poole. ‘How many times?’

‘You can prove that?’ asked Noble.

‘I don’t need proof. You can’t tie me to unlawful sexual intercourse because it never happened. It would be the word of a deranged young girl against mine.’

Brook’s eyes narrowed. His show of temper had thrown Poole off-balance and loosened his tongue but the expathologist was smart enough to avoid crowing about DNA tests.

‘So you don’t have proof,’ persisted Brook.

Poole looked away. ‘I told you. I don’t need it.’

‘If we find out which company you used to test your DNA against Russell Thomson’s, all the denials in the world won’t wash,’ said Brook quietly. ‘Even if there wasn’t a match, the fact that you sought a professional judgement is damning enough.’