‘Back up there a minute,’ Russell said, raising a hand. ‘What evidence?’
He thumped the table and jumped up, crashing his chair back against the wall. His solicitor put a hand on his arm. Russell shrugged it off. Lottie tapped her index finger on the table until he sighed and sat back down, glaring like a cornered bull.
She said, ‘Your wife is in hospital. Know anything about that?’
Russell slammed his fist on the table again. ‘No, I don’t. What’s wrong with her? Grief?’
‘Mr Russell, please.’
‘Maybe she killed the old woman.’ He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, a smug smile spreading across his face.
‘Do you own a baseball bat, Mr Russell?’ Lottie asked quickly. She was truly fed up with his antics.
His eyes darted around the room. The solicitor nodded his white head for him to answer.
‘Yeah. I do.’ Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. ‘Not a crime, is it?’
‘Not when it’s used for a sport, no. Though there’s not much scope for playing baseball in Ragmullin, is there?’
‘I bought it for Emma. About five years ago, when I was on a trip to the States. It’s been in the shed at home… her home, ever since. I haven’t touched it in years. Doubt she has either.’
‘Interesting.’ Lottie wondered if Emma could have wielded the bat at her grandmother’s head. She doubted the slight girl had the strength needed to cause such a serious injury, but she’d check with Jane.
Russell’s eyes were full of suspicion. ‘Why am I here? I never laid a finger on Tessa.’
‘What about your wife? You ever lay a finger on her?’
Sucking on his bottom lip, bristles catching between his teeth, Russell was silent.
‘Mr Russell? Are you refusing to answer?’
‘She barred me from the house. Got a restraining order. Is that why you’re asking me if I hit her?’
‘Did you appeal it?’
‘I sure did. That woman’s mental. Doing drugs and stuff. If you want to know the truth, it was her started out beating me. But no one believed me.’
Boyd grunted.
Lottie said, ‘Last night, I believe you went to Marian’s house, murdered your mother-in-law, then abducted and violently assaulted your wife.’
Russell jumped up for the second time. ‘What the hell?’
‘Sit down. Now,’ Lottie said, lacing her voice with grit.
The solicitor grabbed Russell by his shirtsleeve and eased him back into the chair.
Shaking his head vigorously, Russell said, ‘Where’s Emma?’
‘You haven’t asked what happened to Marian. Is that because you already know?’
‘I don’t like your tone,’ Russell said. ‘And I told you, I haven’t been near that house in months. I did nothing.’
The oppressive atmosphere in the small room was grating on Lottie’s nerves. She wanted to reach across the table and beat a confession out of Russell. That clearly couldn’t happen; his solicitor was present. She tried to quench the frustration wrenching her chest into a knot by taking a few deep breaths.
‘Mr Russell, tell me about you and your wife. The type of relationship you shared. How the separation has affected you.’
Leaning forward, hands clutching each other, Arthur Russell lowered his head as if in surrender and spoke into his chest.
‘Volatile, that’s how I’d describe it. We married young. But when we had Emma, even the rows were worth it. That girl is the light of my life. Whenever I can get access, that is. Marian is a bitch. I mean that, Inspector. An out-and-out bitch. Like mother, like daughter, eh?’
Lottie thought of her own mother, and hoped that sentiment wasn’t true.
‘Back to last night. Outline your activities.’
‘One, I was nowhere near that house. Two, I don’t know what happened to Tessa, and three, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, saying Marian was abducted and assaulted.’
‘We want to know what you did yesterday,’ Boyd said, and shifted in his chair, clearly fed up with the suspect.
‘You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,’ Russell said.
‘Mr Russell—’ Boyd began.
‘Okay, okay.’ He held up his hands. ‘I got up. Had breakfast. Went to work for ten o’clock and was there until seven.’
‘You work in Danny’s Bar, that right?’ Lottie said.
‘Yes. I do the stock in the mornings and then my shift behind the bar. Some nights I play music there as well. Mainly weekends.’
‘I assume you weren’t playing last night?’ Lottie said, knowing that if he had been, he’d have already offered an alibi and the dopey barman would have mentioned it.
‘No, unfortunately. I went back to my digs. Landlady can confirm I ate my dinner there around seven thirty.’
‘And?’
‘Went to my shed and played music until I hit the hay. I’m repeating myself here, you know.’
‘It’s for the tape. What time did you go to bed?’
‘Not sure. Probably around one.’
‘So no one can corroborate your whereabouts from seven thirty onwards?’
‘Landlady?’
‘When my detectives interviewed Mrs Crumb she said she last saw you at seven forty-five, when you finished your dinner. Nothing after that.’
Russell raised his head. ‘I’m fucked so.’ His eyes were watery, and for the first time since she’d entered the interview room, Lottie felt something other than anger emanating from him. Despair?
‘We need to take a sample of your DNA. That okay with you?’
Russell glanced at his solicitor, who nodded.
‘Okay, I suppose.’ He gave a wry laugh. ‘It’d make me look guilty if I didn’t.’
‘Very good,’ Lottie said, tidying up her notebook. ‘We’ll take a buccal swab. What did you do after we left you this morning?’
‘Stayed inside, making music. All day. Then some of your lot arrived again and I agreed to come here.’
‘Fair enough, for now. You can go for now but don’t leave town. We’ll have more questions later.’ Lottie knew they hadn’t enough evidence to hold him.
She stood up and gave Boyd a knowing look. If Russell was prepared to give a DNA sample without a fight, did that mean he was innocent?
Russell said, ‘Where’s Emma?’
‘She’s staying with a neighbour.’
‘Who?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t give you that information.’
‘Only one neighbour on our road. That Kelly one is as daft as a brush.’
‘You seem to think everyone has a mental problem, Mr Russell. I’m beginning to think you’re the one with the problem.’ Lottie opened the door.
‘Can I see my daughter?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Russell, the answer for now is no.’
Sixteen
‘Kirby?’ Lottie shouted as she rushed back into the office. ‘Where’s Kirby when I need him?’
He stuck his head around the door. ‘You looking for me?’
‘Yes, I am. Can you do an extra shift tonight?’
‘I can, but if you’re thinking of asking me to babysit a teenager, I’m not doing that.’ He sat down, shoving his e-cig into the top pocket of his shirt.
‘I’ve had a bitch of a day and I need you to do this one thing for me. Jesus!’
‘Hey, boss. Calm down.’
She slammed the desk. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down.’
‘I’ll ask Gilly. She has the training; she might do it.’
‘You’re friends with Garda O’Donoghue now, are you?’ She stared at Kirby, who blushed. ‘Okay. Ask her.’
‘Sure.’ Kirby looked like he was glad to escape.
Lottie sat down. Breathe. Her phone rang. Lynch. ‘I’ve got cover for you,’ she said, pre-empting Lynch’s question.
‘Thanks.’
‘Did you get anything from Emma?’
‘She and Natasha are sticking to their story. In all evening, watching Netflix. This morning, Emma left the house. Said she went to get fresh bread in the shop, but Jim McGlynn thought she was trying to get access to her home.’
‘Did he know for sure?’
‘No. I tried ringing him to check, but he’s not picking up.’
‘I’ll try him later on. Emma is not to be left alone until we figure out what is going on.’
‘I’ll make sure of it. Who’s replacing me?’