though his nose was twingeing like it knew it was being talked about. ‘Listen, is it true Potter’s dead?’
‘Surprise you, does it? Well, these things happen, Joe. It’s not like on the movies. Fight starts. You go in there chopping and twisting, next thing someone’s seriously hurt. Or worse. Specially when you’ve had the training.’
‘Training? What the shoot does that mean?’
‘It means one of my boys going into the sports centre for Mr Takeushi’s advanced class saw you coming away from the beginners’ session.’
‘And that makes me a killer?’
‘Shows you’ve got the inclination maybe.’
‘Yeah? And what does the advance class show about your boy? That he wants to be a mass murderer? It’s self-defence, that’s all. The whole philosophy is nonviolent.’
Mr Takeushi would be pleased to know that his words if not his techniques had made some impression.
‘Nonviolent, eh? So why were you shooting your mouth off about killing lawyers, Joe?’
‘Figure of speech,’ said Joe. ‘It’s from Shakespeare.’
‘Shakespeare?’ said Chivers in mock admiration. ‘Didn’t know you had such classy tastes, Joe. Now which play would that be in? Macbeth where the king gets killed? Or Othello where the black guy kills his wife? Or Hamlet maybe where everybody kills everybody else? Lots of killing in Shakespeare. Turns you on, does it?’
‘When does this get official, Sarge?’ asked Joe. ‘I mean, I’ve come here voluntarily to make a statement and as it sounds like a serious matter, I thought you’d have been wanting to hear it while it’s still fresh.’
He waited to see if Chivers would suggest his presence wasn’t voluntary. He could see the man was tempted, but while he might be a fascist he wasn’t a fool and in the end all he said was, ‘We appreciate your cooperation, Mr Sixsmith. Let’s get the tape running, shall we?’
Joe told it like it had happened. Chivers probed his story for a bit then, with the unconcealed reluctance of a man leaving the warm pub where he wants to be for the cold night air which he doesn’t fancy, he began asking questions based on the possibility that Joe could be telling the truth.
‘Did you see anyone else in the building but Ms Iles and Mr Potter?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see or hear anything which might have suggested there was someone else in the building?’
‘Don’t think so.’
‘Come on, Sixsmith. A footstep, a creaking board, an open door. Anything.’
‘Like I say, I don’t recollect anything. But I’ll work on it.’
‘What about outside? When you arrived and when you left, did you see anyone hanging around? Or anyone at all?’
‘No. The Row was empty. No one walking. No cars parked. Except mine and Ms Iles’s. It was six o’clock in Christmas week. All them businesses would be shut for the duration.’
‘What about the park?’
Joe thought.
‘Didn’t see anyone,’ he said. ‘But I wasn’t really looking.’
‘So there could have been someone in the park?’
‘Could have been King Kong up a tree, but I didn’t see him,’ said Joe.
‘What about lights? What lights were on in the building?’
‘When I arrived, none that I could see. But there wouldn’t be. Mr Potter’s room looks out on the back.’
‘How do you know that?’ demanded Chivers. ‘You told me you never got into his room, only as far as his secretary’s office.’
‘I didn’t. But I know which way I’m facing.’
‘Always?’
‘Usually.’
‘Not a Muslim, are you?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Could be a useful talent for a Muslim.’
Joe glanced towards the tape and coughed gently.
‘Yeah, yeah. Well, thanks for your cooperation, Mr Sixsmith. We may need to talk to you again and meanwhile if anything comes to mind that you think might help us, please get in touch. Interview ends at 20.15 hours.’
He switched the recorder off and sat glowering at Joe.
‘You’re a waste of my time and everyone’s space, Sixsmith,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you sod off out of here?’
‘Hey, if you’re going to get personal, let’s have the recorder back on,’ said Joe. ‘Making jokes about Muslims just gets you killed, but being rude to witnesses may get you sued. What’s your beef anyway, Sarge? I told you all I know. Don’t want me making stuff up, do you?’
‘No, don’t want that,’ said Chivers, relaxing a little. ‘Just wanted a bit of a pointer but I suppose that was too much to hope for.’
Suddenly Joe got it. When Woodbine had been made up to superintendent, his detective inspector had become acting DCI, but Chivers hadn’t moved up to acting inspector. Instead, a new young high flier had been appointed. But Scottish snow, African sun, and Asian flu had united to leave the sergeant temporarily in charge of the shop. A good quick result in a murder case would do him no harm at all and at the very least be a satisfying two fingers to his sceptical superiors.
He said, ‘I’m doing my best, Sarge. You know that.’
He saw the man tremble on the brink of another insult then pull himself back, maybe recalling that Willie Woodbine had done OK by giving Joe his head.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he said. ‘I meant it when I said, any little pointer.’
Happy to extend the phoney peace, Joe racked his brain for an idea.
‘There was the phone call,’ he said. ‘Someone called Felix. Listen, if you dialled 1471, you’d probably get his number …’
He saw from Chivers’s face this was mutton to the Falklands.
‘Felix Naysmith. One of the partners. Number was his holiday cottage in Lincolnshire. We rang back, but they must have gone out for the evening. No sweat. Unless Potter was actually attacked while he was on the phone, which doesn’t seem likely, there’s not much chance of Naysmith being able to help. It’s those who were on the spot I’m interested in.’
Grinding his teeth significantly, Joe said, ‘Like Ms Iles, you mean?’
‘Ms Iles has been very helpful,’ said Chivers, implying compared with some people. ‘First off, she told us she heard a din upstairs and went to her door in time to see you flouncing out, yelling about killing lawyers.’
‘I explained that.’
‘Yeah, like you explained about forcing your way into the building, scaring the pants off the poor woman.’
‘Come on, Sarge. Did she really say that?’
‘No,’ admitted Chivers reluctantly. ‘Just the opposite. What she did say was that after you left she went back into her own room, leaving the door open so she’d see Potter when he came down. Fifteen minutes later when he hadn’t shown and she was ready to leave, she rang his office. When he didn’t reply she got worried.’
‘Isn’t there some other way out of the building?’ interrupted Joe.
‘How do you know that?’ demanded Chivers, suspicion re-entering quick enough to show it hadn’t retreated far.
‘Because them houses were built