Takedown by Heather Atkinson (latest books to read txt) 📕

“That’s the most ridiculous argument I’ve ever heard. Did you actually pass the Bar, Mr Mortimer?”

“With honours,” he sniffed. “And my client lashed out because he was scared. You kicked in his front door and charged into his home without identifying yourselves.”

“Actually, we declared we were police officers outside the house after knocking repeatedly. As someone was obviously in the house but no one was answering, we kicked in the door because we were concerned for Mr Gunning’s welfare, which was reasonable as a known associate of his had just been found murdered and we received information that your client could be connected. We also declared that we were police officers on entering the premises. We did everything by the book. If you’ve any concerns you’re welcome to review the bodycam footage.”

Mortimer knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with that line of attack, Young was far too confident. “I will,” he sniffed.

“Good. Now we’ve got that sorted can we start the interview?”

“My client has nothing to say.”

“Your client isn’t helping himself by saying nothing and he’s still looking at a charge of assaulting a police officer. As the entire incident was caught on my body cam he’s not wriggling out of it. However, I may be convinced to reduce his charge to a lesser one if he cooperates and tells us what he knows about Dillon Enfield.”

Mortimer whispered in Mickey’s ear. When he’d finished, Mickey looked at him questioningly. The solicitor responded with another nod and Mickey sighed.

“All right Young,” said Mickey, turning to face him. “Dillon did do a few odd jobs for me.”

“Odd jobs?” he replied. “Fixing leaky taps? Washing the windows?”

“No,” he retorted. “He gave me a hand when I had problems.”

“What sort of problems?”

“If anyone gave me any trouble,” he said reluctantly.

“What sort of trouble?”

“You know, trouble. Do I have to spell it out?”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“If anyone was mean to me…why are you laughing?” he scowled when Young sniggered.

“Do excuse me Mickey, that wasn’t a laugh. I was clearing my throat.”

Mickey’s look was withering.

“It’s just that I was going through your file earlier,” continued Matthew, swiping at the iPad on the table before him. “And you have quite a colourful history – breaking and entering, burglary, common assault, grievous bodily harm. So I find it a little difficult to believe that you need help dealing with someone who is being mean to you. However, three months ago you were arrested while attempting to break into a house on Division Lane. You had an accomplice but they fled, leaving you to face the music alone. Your accomplice’s description matched Dillon Enfield.”

“No one was with me that night,” retorted Mickey. “The witness must have been seeing double.”

“Actually there wasn’t a witness. The incident was caught on camera.”

Matthew swiped at the iPad again and turned it to face him. On the screen was footage taken outside the front of a large detached house. Two figures sped down the drive away from the house, chased by a large Doberman. The more agile of the two figures managed to scale the wall and vanish from view while the puffing image of Mickey was dragged to the ground by the Doberman seizing his foot.

“I’m sorry Mickey,” said Young, stopping the footage. “Did that bring back unpleasant memories?” He threw his sergeant a warning look, who was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Bastard dog,” muttered Mickey. “The sod nearly bit my heel right off.”

“Our techs enlarged and cleaned up the footage of your accomplice,” said Young, swiping at the screen. “As you can see, your accomplice very closely resembles Dillon Enfield.”

“Maybe a bit but it wasn’t him.”

“What happened Mickey? Did you get angry that he left you to face the music? Your trial starts in two weeks. Did you want to silence him or was it just about plain, old fashioned revenge?”

“Look, I never went near the git,” he exclaimed. “The prick was a jinx. Every job he went on something went wrong – the car broke down, I got savaged by a dog or – and you’re going to think I’m making this up but it’s the God’s honest truth – we were carrying a washing machine out of a house together and he dropped it on my foot. Not the one the dog bit, the other one. He broke the bloody machine too. It fell on its side and pissed water out all over the pavement.”

Young glared at his sergeant when he lost his battle not to snigger.

“So you see,” continued Mickey. “Dillon was a proper Jonah. I’m not surprised he ended up getting stabbed. If you ask me no one did it to him. It was probably some weird accident that he did to himself. If someone did try to kill him they would have been horrifically injured in the process.”

Young’s instinct told him Mickey was being truthful, to his surprise. He thought Mickey might know more about Dillon’s murder than he was letting on but he didn’t think he was responsible.

“If you ask me,” went on Mickey. “The world’s a safer place without him. I should know, I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

“My client has said everything he’s going to say,” interjected Mortimer.

But Mickey continued regardless. “If anyone could accidentally detonate a nuclear device or start World War Three, it was that bastard.”

“Where were you yesterday evening Mickey?” said Young, wanting to get that question in while he was in a talkative mood.

“The Red Lion with four of my friends.”

Young thought how Faith and her siblings were regulars at that pub. She’d even worked there before she’d left Blackpool for Scotland. Everything seemed to come back to the Chambers family. “I’ll need the names and addresses of these friends.”

“Not a problem,” he said smugly.