I told you, they’re homeless, too.
Beryl (addressing Dredd): Who the fuck are you?
Maker: Now, there’s no need to take that attitude. We’re just having a friendly chat, aren’t we, Justin.
Dredd: I’m not feeling friendly today. Not with a double murderer in the room.
Maker: Good point, Justin.
Me: Now just hang on a minute…
Maker: Now. Mr Jones. Let’s look at facts here. Were you, or were you not, found at No 34 Ashlawn Gardens, earlier today? Yes, you were. At No 34 Ashlawn Gardens, was there or was there not a dead body? Yes, there was. Was this body the body of Miss Anna Dunnsbury, or was it not? Yes, it was.
Me: I want my lawyer.
Maker: You already have a lawyer.
Me: No, I don’t.
Maker (sighing): Sylvain, I’m afraid that’s not true. The last time you were here, oh, about… (checking his watch) six hours ago, Justin and myself kindly vacated the room, to allow you to speak to him. Didn’t we Justin? A court appointed lawyer, I believe. Not much cop, to be honest, but then you don’t really deserve any more, does he, Justin?
Dredd: (some strange noise)
Maker: Exactly. That he cannot be bothered to show his face now is hardly our concern. Now, enough pleasantries. Why did you kill Miss Dunnsbury?
Me: But…
Beryl (in a cold, calm voice): We didn’t kill her. We turned up there, and she was dead already. I checked her pulse myself. We were about to call you before you…
Maker: Oh! You hear that, Justin? She was about to call us!
Dredd: I don’t recall giving her my number.
Maker: Good point. How did you have Justin’s number?
Beryl: Not you specifically but…
Maker: Changing your story?
Dredd: Either that or she’s a stalker.
Maker (turning questioningly to Dredd): How so?
Dredd: Why else would she have my number? I don’t just give it out to anyone.
Maker: Hmmm. Good point. (Looking at Beryl) – who are you anyway?
Beryl: What proof do you have that we killed her?
Maker: I didn’t say you killed her. I said he (pointing at me) killed her.
Beryl: Same question.
Maker: You his lawyer?
Beryl (glancing at me): Just answer the question, fuckbrain.
Maker: Fuckbrain? Fuckbrain? I haven’t heard that one before, have you, Justin?
Dredd: I think this woman needs a lesson in manners (beginning to get up. Beryl stood up at the same time and they both faced each other for a couple of seconds)
Maker: Interesting as this encounter may be, I think we need to stick to the key reason we are here. (Looking back at me). Sylvain, did you know Miss Dunnsbury?
Me: Erm… a little.
Maker: And did you know Miss Marston?
Me: Who?
Maker: Miss Angel Marston. I believe we talked about her previously.
Me: Erm… no?
Maker: You don’t sound sure about that.
Dredd (glaring at Beryl before sitting down again): Of course he knew her.
Maker: You sure you don’t want to reconsider that answer?
Dredd: No.
Maker: Not you, him!
Dredd (starting on a new sketch, this one looking suspiciously like a firing squad): Oh.
Maker (looking at me): Well?
Me: Erm…
Maker: You see, Sylvain, it seems surprising that you say you don’t know her, as you both worked together at, erm, (studying some notes) Calypso Software Solutions. That is the place that you work, isn’t it, Sylvian?
Me: Erm, well…
Maker: And it is the place that Miss Marston works. Two people you knew found dead. Interesting…
Me: You found Angel?
Beryl: Shut up, Sylvain.
Maker (smiling): Well, no, not exactly. But we did find very significant traces of her blood on your clothes. And she is missing.
Me: I thought you said…
Maker: Said what, Sylvain?
Me: That you… you were looking for Mark’s blood… and you didn’t… (I trailed off)
Beryl (hissing): Shut up, Sylvain.
Maker (smiling): You should listen to your friend. Fact is, Sylvain (studying his notes again) – fact is, we found traces of both Mr Forth’s and Miss Marston’s blood, on your t-shirt and your jeans. I therefore think it is safe to conclude you had a part to play in her demise, don’t you?
Me: No!
Dredd: Bona fide serial killer we have here.
Maker: It would appear so, Justin.
Dredd: Wonder what other crimes we can nail him for? That backlog we’ve got…
Maker: Now, now, Justin, we can’t do anything unethical.
Dredd: Who’s talking unethical? Little bastard probably killed them all.
Maker (eyeing me): Well, it’s certainly possible, but…
Me: No I didn’t! I haven’t killed anyone!
Dredd: That’s what they all say.
Maker: It’s a hell of a coincidence, though, Sylvain, wouldn’t you say?
Me: Mark’s alive! I’ve seen him!
Maker: Really?
Me: Yes! And it was him who killed them!
Dredd: Have proof of that, do you?
Beryl: We’ll get it
Dredd: Not if I can help it
Beryl: Is that a threat?
Dredd: Do you want it to be?
Beryl: I bet you don’t even have a gun
Dredd: You’re going to pay for this
Maker: Guys, guys, guys…. Calm it down! Now, Sylvain, much as we would like to indulge your fantasies of Mr Forth being the erstwhile killer, the evidence points very much to the contrary, both concrete and circumstantial. Much as you also may wish that Mr Forth were alive and therefore able to be your scapegoat, again, evidence points very much to the fact that he is no longer with us. In fact, we have CCTV footage of you both entering his hotel room, after which you are the only one who still appears to be with us.
Me: That can’t be right! He left with me
Maker (sighing): Let’s start at the beginning (turning to face me). Sylvain, why did you kill them all?
Me: I didn’t!
Maker: Okay, let’s start with an easier question. Why were you at Miss Dunnsbury’s house this afternoon, if not to kill her?
Dredd: Course he was there to kill her.
Maker: Let him answer the question, Justin.
Me: I was worried about her.
Dredd: For good reason!
Maker: Why were you worried about her?
Me: I thought Mark was going to…but then I didn’t think… I thought he was just warning me…
Maker: Warning you about what?
Dredd: This is bullshit. Let’s lock him up, already.
Maker (making calming motions): Hang on, Justin, just a minute, we’re here to establish the facts.
Dredd: Yeah, I know. And the facts are saying very clearly that this motherfucker is as guilty as hell. So let’s not waste any more time.
Beryl (looking at Maker): You better get your monkey under control, otherwise there’s going to be trouble. I know some very powerful people.
Dredd: Yeah? And what good they doing you now, sunshine?
Beryl (still ignoring Dredd): I mean it
Maker (glancing at Dredd): Just calm down for a minute, Justin.
Dredd: Seriously? You’re going to listen to this…
Maker: Look. You remember what happened in the Andrew Marks affair? How long did it take to…?
Dredd: All right, point made. But I won’t forget this. I mean (looking at Beryl), you think you can just…
Maker: Justin!
Dredd: Okay.
Maker: Thank you. Now… (looking at me) what do you say Mark Forth was warning you about?
Me: He threatened Anna. He came here, last time, you know, I was here with you. He told me to stop snooping around him, or
else…
Maker: Hang on a minute… you’re saying that Mark Forth, whose blood is on your t-shirt, who we have on CCTV entering a room with you and never leaving, who hasn’t been seen for – what, five days, you’re saying that our assumption about him being missing stroke dead is completely wrong, despite all evidence to the contrary and despite our heritage and intelligence as the smartest police officers in our generation. Despite all that, you are saying that Mr Mark Forth walked in here, under our very noses, had a conversation with you threatening Miss Dunnsbury, and left, again under our very noses, in order to kill this lady. Just for my understanding, Mr Jones, that is what you are suggesting?
Me (gulping): Erm… yes?
Dredd (looking at his watch): Listen, Phil, the pubs are opening soon, let’s chuck these two somewhere where the sun ain’t never going to shine, and get ourselves a beer.
Maker: Hmmm. I have to admit, Justin, I think you are…
Dredd (his phone ringing): Shit. (Answering) Yeah? What? (Then, exasperated): What? (Then, resigned): Hang on. (Whispering to Maker, Maker shooting angry looks at me)
Maker: Shit. It appears someone’s posted bail for you.
Me: For both of us?
Maker: No. Just you. But shit, we may as well let her go as well.
No one will talk to me, but the truth is that I don’t want to talk to anyone. No one will talk to me, but I don’t know anyone. I don’t want to talk to anyone, and yet still people come and try to talk to me. I don’t know anyone, I look like hell, but people won’t leave me alone.
The whisky they served in this place wasn’t deserving of the name, if truth be told. If I had more time and any inclination, I would sue them for misrepresentation, I would sue the pub and I would sue the manufacturer and I would sue the Scottish island that this purports to come from. In fact, I would go over there, I would drive and fly or take a ferry and I would walk into the distillery and demand that I spoke to the manager, or the chief distiller, or whoever passed for a leader in that place, and I would ask him or her to explain himself, to explain why we should have to accept this, why he felt that this was in any way okay or acceptable, why someone like