CHAPTER 27
“Good morning Mr Evans, I am DC Owens, and this is DC Sutton”

Evans jerked his head, and I realised he was trying to see out through the doorway, probably checking nobody else was there. When we sat down, he was clearly sitting as far back as the chair would allow, even though it was fixed to the floor. Not good.

Our interview rooms are largely soundproofed, but you can still feel vibration from outside, such as another door slamming. Blake gave ours a push, it latched, and our boy jumped. We sat down opposite lawyer and arsehole to begin the dance, and before we could finish introducing the process, Evans asked if we could lock the door. Please.

Blake looked at me, clearly in my role as dispenser of sweetness and light, and raised an eyebrow. In my turn, I looked straight at the prisoner and gave him an appropriately sweet and light smile.

“No. Sorry. Rules”

Blake went through the preamble with the tapes and introductions, while I studied the pile of shit in front of me. He looked fit, and I suspected he might once have been quite good-looking, but that had gone. Odd parts of his face looked adrift, his nose bent slightly to one side, and one lower eyelid drooped. That wasn’t what made him look so wrong, though: it was his constant twitching. Every time Blake moved, he would start, and when my colleague sat still Evans kept his eyes on him, real ‘rabbit in headlights’ stuff.

His brief just looked tired, which was hardly surprising. What was even more surprising was that Joe Evans made absolutely no attempt whatsoever to deny any of his actions. He simply tried to justify them as reasonable things to do.

It was surreal. In the end, after confirming everything evidential we needed, the two of us sat back and let him talk.

“Yeah, I mean, what would you do? They’re everywhere. I know you can see in my face, innit? One of them, they nearly got me, didn’t they? Sneaky, nasty queer, dressed up, made me think they were a girl, got me to let them do things with my cock, sex things…”

A door banged outside, and he jumped again.

“Yeah, and when I found out, I gave him a slap and then his friends… They were going to cut bits off me… They’re everywhere and they want me, and where’s that Inspector? Please don’t let her find me!”

He was crying by then, and his brief held up a hand. I nodded.

“Mr Shortall? You wish to add something?”

“My client has a short prepared statement to offer”

“Go ahead, sir”

“It is very simple. Joseph believes that he only engaged in the violent actions now under discussion because he remains unable to think in a clear manner following a very serious assault by a number of men upon him. In short, he states that the balance of his mind is so disturbed that he cannot be held responsible for said actions”

That did it for me, so we wrapped up the process and left Evans in the room to talk to Shortall. Once more, a broken man jerked as we opened the door, and as we walked out he called after us.

“Pleas don’t let her get to me!”

Crump of the closing door. Blake looked down at the tapes he held, shaking his head.

“Jesus fucking wept, Di. If that is what happens to you when you get on Elaine’s bad side… Come on. Let’s get this lot off to Sammy and see where we stand. And ring your Mam”

We made our way to the team room, where Sammy was welded to a computer keyboard showing a whole set of timeline graphics. He sat up as we approached, rubbing his neck with a wince.

“Used to have to do all this by hand, but sod that for a game of soldiers. Talk me through it all, but grab a brew first. One for me too, if you don’t mind”

Once we were sat down with our cups, he talked us calmly through the interviews before nodding and summing up.

“Right, then. This is how I see it—oh, call the others over, aye? I can’t be arsed doing this over again. Mates, if I tell some of you things you already know, tough. This is a summary. Listen, gobs shut, try and see if we’ve forgotten anything. In this job you can get too close sometimes, wood and trees, innit. Here’s what we have.

“Hansen is stuffed. He’s tried the defence of evil junky girlfriend, but she’s stitched him up nine ways from Sunday. There’s also the bite impressions, his DNA on the rubber johnny, and his dabs on one of the bats. Yup, not just a driver.

“Jamie Evans has left his teeth in too many places, it’s his van, and there’s all the evidence from Crossways to link it to Omar. We’ve got Omar’s statement for the tats on his hand, as well.

“Joe Evans may be barking, and I am expecting him to plead that one. I suspect he is going to be sectioned, and given his activities, and the fact he has clearly admitted to carrying out a number of very fucking violent attacks, I think he will not be coming back into circulation in any part of the foreseeable future. The other aspect of his interview is that he has implicated every other prisoner as being clearly and jointly involved. He has completely screwed them all. Blake, Di, great work on those interviews.

“Now, our two specimens of vermin formerly employed by Dyfed-Powys. You two, by the way, not putting down your interviews, but we knew how they would go. Good work in getting all the crunchy stuff into the interviews, and with Special Warnings too. The jury will love a lot of that! And I haven’t even mentioned the CCTV footage or the ANPR results associated with it. That is what I have been tabulating all day”

He paused to take a drink, and looked round us all with a grin.

“Lainey really got you all on song, didn’t she? I am bloody well enjoying working with you all. Now, house searches. This is what you won’t have heard yet. It turns out that Bob Evans had some receipts, stuffed in a kitchen drawer. One of them was from Decathlon. You know the place, big sports shop?”

Ellen perked up. “Let me guess, boss. A receipt for equipment required to get involved with a certain Yank pastime?”

“Yup! We have him tied to the recent purchase of the bats, and not only that---we have the shop’s own camera footage from the till when he bought them. Nice Barbour jacket he was wearing”

Rob started laughing, real relish in his voice, but Candice asked the killer question.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? Something big. Off their phones?”

Sammy shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m hoping for stuff from their mobiles, but that will take some time. No, it’s Dai Pritchard’s place. One of my old lot did the search there, and he’s really, really sharp. Going up the stairs to the bedroom he thinks one of the steps sounds different as he stands on it, and it is actually something he has encountered before, spinning a paedo’s drum. So he lifts the runner and kicks the step, shines a torch on it, and there’s a little drawer there, innit”

Another sip, trying to hide his grin.

“Dai has a souvenir cupboard. Bits and pieces from several people he’s met in car parks, it appears”

Once the laughter died down, he looked around us all, with affection.

“SOCO are doing their bit, and we hope to be able to link most of the items to young men who ended up in hospital. For starters, he had Omar’s Cardiff Uni gay society membership card”

He stood up and started to clap, a proper round of applause.

“Mates, we will have most of this bagged away by eight, if none of you mind making it a long day. Then it is waiting for the other stuff to come in. Curry and beer?”

Nobody declined, funnily, and the day went quickly as the momentum helped us through. We were on a roll, and any other evidence that came up was going to be window-dressing at worst, confirmation of other stuff at best. I did do as Blake said, though, and found time to ring Mam.

“Thank God, love. I was so worried. We saw that boss of yours on the telly, and what with the stuff Blake said, you know, that boy? Is he all right?”

“Mam…”

“Oh, love, I know you can’t say anything, but Dad and me, we’re not daft, are we? Seen all the films and that. We guessed what he was there for”

“He’s fine, Mam. Bit bruised, but he’s OK”

“And Blake? Nothing happened to him?”

I laughed. “He’s fine, Mam and I would say that he actually happened to some other people, if you see what I mean”

She laughed as well, and there was clear relief in it.

“What are you doing tonight, love?”

“New boss has—no, there’s a reason for a new boss, nothing to worry about. I’ll explain when I can, OK? New boss is actually my old boss, Sammy, and tonight it’s beer and curry. Celebration thing for the team”

“Something you’re not telling me, love?”

“When I can, Mam. OK? Oh, I need something in Welsh, something like ‘nice one’ or ‘well done’ if you can”

“Chwarae teg, love. Means fair play, but more as in ‘nicely done’. That do you?”

“Perfect, Mam. Got to go now. Sorry”

“Never say sorry for things done for the right reason, my darling. Talk to me when you can, and love from both of us. Give it to Blake”

“Love you, Mam”

“I know”

I had to wipe my eyes after that, and when we did hit the pub I recovered by getting almost as raucous as we had been on New Year’s Eve. Beer and wine flowed, we had a superb curry with all the traditional extras, and I found the courage to take someone’s hand below the table.

Blake just smiled back at me.

“Time and patience, girl. Time and patience. Oy! I had dibs on that onion bhaji!”

Time I had in plenty. How much patience did he have?