Prime Suspect (Prime Suspect (Harper)) Read Online Free PDF Page B

?”
    Otley checked his watch and wondered how it was all going down in the interview room. It was past seven and Shefford had been at it since four thirty, now with Arnold Upcher sitting in on the session. Otley strolled down to the basement corridor and peered through the glass panel; he could just see Marlow, sitting with his head in his hands.
    “Has he confessed yet? Only it’s drinking time!”
    The PC on guard raised his eyebrows. “Been a lot of shouting goin’ on in there, and at the last count Shefford had consumed five beakers of coffee.”
    “Ah, well, he would—this is pub hours, son!”
    Otley turned away and went to the pub to join the others from Shefford’s team. He ordered a round and sat down with his pint, telling them there was no news as yet.
    “But he had his head in his hands, looked like the guv’nor’s cracked him. Gonna break that bloody record . . .”
    They set about betting on how long it would take Shefford to get a confession from Marlow and whether or not he would break Paxman’s record. They might not have been so confident if they had been privy to the statement that was being taken from Marlow right then.

2
    S hefford was using the regulation tape recorder. Marlow craned his head forward and directed his speech at the built-in microphone.
    “I dropped her off at the tube station, and paid her.”
    “OK, so then what did you do?”
    “I went to Kilburn to get a video, and I was home by . . . about ten thirty.”
    Marlow rubbed his chin. He needed a shave now, the stubble made him look darker, swarthier.
    “Like I said, Inspector, I remember, when I looked back, she was peering into another car, a red . . . maybe a Scirocco, I dunno, but she was looking for the next customer. I just got the video and went home, got there at ten thirtyish. I can’t remember the exact time, you’ll have to ask Moyra, she’ll remember.”
    “And you maintain that you did not know this girl you picked up? You had never met her or seen her before?”
    “No, sir. Like I said, she just came over to my car.”
    Shefford opened a file and held out a photograph of Della Mornay, taken from Vice records. “Is this the girl you picked up?”
    Marlow leaned forward, without actually touching the photo, then sat back in his chair. “I’d never met her before, I didn’t know her.”
    He looked to his brief, then back to Shefford. “I picked her up at about seven thirty. It was dark, I don’t remember her all that well . . .”
    “You had sex with her, George! You tellin’ me you didn’t see her face? Come on, George . . .”
    Marlow shifted his weight in his chair. “It was in the back of the car!”
    “Let’s go again, George, an’ I want all the details.”
    Peter was stuffing his work clothes into the overflowing laundry basket when Jane woke up. He rammed the lid on the basket. “We need a washing machine, you know.”
    She yawned. “Yeah, but the kitchen’s too small. Besides, the launderette does it for me, they’ll even do the ironing if you want, but it’s fifty pence per article. I’ll get Mrs. Fry to take a load down in the morning.” She yawned again. “What’s the time?”
    “It’s nearly six. I’ve got some bad news.” He sat down beside her. “Well, not bad news for me, but for you, maybe! It must be telepathy . . . You know, after you said Joey could stay, Marianne called. She’s bringing him over to stay the night. I didn’t even have to ask, she suggested it.”
    “That’s OK! What time’s he coming?”
    Peter shrugged. “Oh, about seven thirty. Look, you don’t have to do anything.”
    Jane freaked. “Is she bringing him? I mean, will she come in?”
    He shrugged again. “Look, I can take him for a hamburger, he’ll be no problem.”
    “Bollocks! Go down to the corner Indian, they’re still open, and get some fish fingers. Kids like fish fingers, and baked beans, and Mars bars . . . No, tell you what, Smarties. I’ll make up