The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Wednesday, 22nd August. Late afternoon 

interrogation Room 2 in Strandtown Police Station is bare and functional. It contains no furnishings other than a single table with two chairs on either side of it. On the table is a recording device, beside which are some blank sheets of headed paper and a couple of ballpoint pens.Late in the afternoon, a short time after the identity parade, Sergeant McCullough and Detective McBride sat at one side of the table facing Patrick Robinson and his solicitor. McCullough reached out to the recording device and switched it on. Looking at his watch, he said tonelessly, "Interview with Mr Patrick Robinson conducted on Wednesday, twenty-second of August, two thousand and eighteen. Present in the room are Detective Sergeant McCullough, Detective McBride, Mr Patrick Robinson, and his solicitor, Mr. Kieran Cosgrove. The time is three forty-four p.m."  He sat back, arms folded across his ample girth, and offered Robinson a silent glare. 

Cosgrove, with a glare of his own, waited only a beat before saying, "Is this to be an interrogation following stipulated guidelines, Sergeant, or an exercise in intimidation?" 

McCullough might not have been the brightest spark in Sheehan's team but he had years of experience and was thoroughly versed in all matters of police procedures. Cosgrove's intervention did not faze him in the slightest.Staring at the solicitor, he growled, "Just trying to collect my thoughts. And you butting in before I even get time to open my mouth is not helping. So, could you hold your horses, please, until you actually have something to shout about?" 

Cosgrove's prim lips tightened in distaste. Intellectual cut and thrust were his stock in trade. McCullough's coarseness rendered him temporarily speechless.McCullough turned his attention to Robinson once more. "Where were you on the evening of Tuesday the fourteenth of August between ten o'clock and midnight?" 

Robinson, sitting back on his chair with his own arms folded and a faint sneer on his face, said coolly, "That was a couple of weeks ago. I wouldn't have a clue." 

It was obvious that McCullough was less than happy with the suspect's answer, or with his attitude, but he held himself in check. "It was just over one week ago. You got Alzheimer's or something?" 

"Sergeant..." Cosgrove started. 

McCullough waved a dismissive hand at the solicitor and continued. "What do you usually do on a Tuesday night?" 

Robinson shrugged. "Depends. Sometimes I stay in and watch TV. Sometimes I go out with friends." 

McCullough pushed a blank sheet of paper towards the suspect and picked up one of the pens. "Would you please write down the names, addresses and  phone numbers of the two friends you were out with on the night of Tuesday,the fourteenth." 

"What are you talking about?" Robinson said. 

"Sergeant McCullough," Cosgrove snapped. "We have not established that Mr Robinson was out with friends on the night of the fourteenth. Would you confine your questioning to the facts, please?" 

"Oh, but we have," McCullough replied. "We have the evidence of a key witness confirming that your client, together with two thugs, kidnapped and assaulted Mr Edwin Doran on that Tuesday night." 

Robinson reacted furiously, but Cosgrove put a restraining hand on his arm. "Sergeant, what you have is a person who heard six people muttering through heavy balaclava masks and identified one of them as a voice he heard for a few minutes over a week ago. Good luck trying to make that stand up in court." 

 "It will," McCullough said, nonchalantly examining his fingernails,"especially when we support it with very incriminating physical evidence." 

McBride stiffened and glanced sideways at his superior. The lie had rolled very easily off the sergeant's tongue. The warrant to search Robinson's house had not yet even been applied for.