Page 87 of Ink's Devil

“Had?”

“Yes.” I frown, trying to summon up all my acting skills. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen it.”

Barker sighs. “Ms Foster. Define ages please.”

“Years?” I shrug. “I really can’t remember. It was old, not fashionable, not even good enough to carry my gym stuff.” I frown. “Why have you got a photo of it? Or one very much like it?”

“Why so much interest in an old bag, Detectives?” Ottoman asks.

He’s ignored. “Your fingerprints were on this particular rucksack, Ms Foster. And we found none from anyone else.” The stare from his eyes is unblinking. I set my features and try not to shrink under his gaze. “I’d like to know just how this rucksack ended up in our evidence room.”

Tapping my fingertips together, I steeple my hands under my chin. “I haven’t seen it since the burglary,” I tell them.

Barker rolls his eyes. “You were burgled?”

“Our house was, a couple of years back.”

“Did you list the rucksack on the inventory of things stolen?”

I move my head side to side. “What with putting the house back straight and cataloguing everything for the insurance, I didn’t notice it gone. Forgot all about it until now. And even if I had noticed, it wasn’t worth making a fuss over.”

Ottoman holds up his hand. “I have no idea why you’re asking about this rucksack, but your interest carries the implication it’s been used, or appears to have been used, in committing a crime, or was at a crime scene. Ms Foster has told you she hasn’t seen the rucksack for a very long time. She’s also given a plausible explanation of how it could have come to be in the hands of someone who did commit a crime.”

As the detectives go to speak, Ottoman continues, “I gather the only reason Ms Foster has been brought in for questioning is her fingerprints came up as a match for those on the rucksack.”

The detectives exchange glances. “We are also interested in the relationship between Mr McNeish and your client. Mr McNeish is being questioned in connection with a serious crime and was carrying the rucksack in question. Ms Foster has admitted to knowing Mr McNeish and of having a relationship with him. That’s a lot of coincidences in my book. I suggest Ms Foster did not have it stolen in any home invasion, but instead gave it to Mr McNeish to use in connection with a crime.”

“Hold up,” Ottoman interrupts. “Coincidence yes, but tentative at best. First, a relationship of any substance between my client and Mr McNeish has not been established. Second, however Mr McNeish used the rucksack which appears at one time to have belonged to Ms Foster, there’s no logical leap to suggest she had any knowledge of what it was used for.”

The detectives stare at me, I try not to fidget.

Barker sighs. “I’ll ask a straight question. Did you or did you not give Mr McNeish the rucksack, Ms Foster?”

“No.” The word is accompanied by an adamant shake of my head. It’s true. Strictly he took it from me, I didn’t give it to him.

“Could Mr McNeish have taken the rucksack from your house? Has he been to your home?” Barker won’t give up. He seems like the proverbial dog with a bone.

Don’t drop him in it.

“I honestly don’t think so. Ink only came to the house once.”

“To collect the rucksack? Were you involved with what Mr McNeish was carrying last night? Did you know where he was?”

“Look, I’ve told you, I have no idea what happened to the darn rucksack. I have no idea how Ink came into possession of it. I don’t know where Ink was or what he was doing last night, let alone what he was carrying. If I’d thought about it, I’d have presumed he was at the club.”

“Who else has access to your house?” This from Hastings.

“My friends often visit. My brother. They’ve been there far more often than Ink.”

“I think Ms Foster has helped you answer your questions as best that she can. That she had a rucksack which you say is the one found or used at a crime scene doesn’t seem a crime by itself. Unless you have other evidence that links my client to any breaking of the law, I suggest we draw this interview to a close.”

I hold my breath, waiting for the detectives’ response.

Barker nods thoughtfully. “Where were you last night, Ms Foster?”

“Last night, I stayed in. I read a book and went to bed early.”

“Witnesses?”

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