Page 5 of Skulk of Foxes
Clearly, human pop culture was beyond Viburna’s frame of reference. ‘Right Said Fred. They’re a British pop duo. Their original hit ‘I’m Too Sexy’ could easily be re-worked for me. I’m even prepared to help them out with the lyrics. Or if Right Said Fred are too busy, perhaps The Specials could re-write ‘Free Nelson Mandela’ for me.’ I pursed my lips. ‘It’s a good tune.’
I’d managed to flummox her into momentary silence by comparing myself to Mandela. Unfortunately, she recovered quickly. ‘Morganus wants me to ensure your release,’ she said, ignoring my musical suggestions.
‘He’ll have to manage without me.Youhave to ensure that my release doesn’t happen.’
For the first time, Viburna smiled. ‘If you insist. But you can’t tell the police you’re guilty and end up in prison just like that. They’re still going to want to ask questions. A lot of questions. We probably don’t want to appear too eager to get you charged with the crimes either, or they’ll suspect something is up. Generally speaking, people who are keen to end up in jail are hiding more than they let on. The police and the world at large are far happier if you at least pretend to put up a fight. You will also be more convincing if you actually tell the truth. Within reason, of course.’
I inclined my head. ‘I bow to your wisdom.’ I paused. ‘Metaphorically, I mean. I’m not actually going to bow to you. And I’m not yet convinced by your wisdom.’
‘The feeling’s mutual,’ she grunted. She got to her feet, walked to the door and knocked on it. When it opened, she told the duty officer outside that we were ready.
I rubbed my palms in anticipation. I’d played a lot of roles in recent times. This one might prove to be my best yet.
Jones and Mulroney ambled inside, taking the chairs on the opposite side of the table. Jones took out a digital recorder and placed it between us. I made as if to reach for it and she glared at me.
‘Not a gift for me then?’ I asked.
Her glare increased. ‘For the purposes of the tape,’ Mulroney said, ‘present in the room are myself, DI Mulroney, and DC Jones.’
‘Good morning,’ Jones said.
‘Representing Ms Hatter is…’
Viburna cleared her throat. ‘Viburna Smith QC.’
Mulroney gestured at me. ‘Please state your full name.’
I deepened my voice to a villainous half-cackle. ‘Madrona Hatter.’ I inhaled deeply, holding the stale air inside my lungs. ‘I’m guilty of murder. I confess. I did it. I deserve whatever happens next.’
‘You admit to murder?’
Viburna muttered under her breath, obviously annoyed that I’d ignored all her instructions.
‘Yes.’ I nodded vigorously.
Unfortunately Mulroney and Jones’s disbelief at my immediate confession was so obvious that I began to suspect Viburna had been right: my rush to admit my guilt merely raised doubts rather than dispersing them. I had to backtrack somehow. If I made matters too easy for them, they’d remain suspicious. People like to work a bit to get what they want because it makes the desired outcome much sweeter when it arrives. I should have realised that earlier – or Viburna should have explained it more clearly.
I was fortunate that Mulroney gave me the opening I needed. ‘I thought you had amnesia,’ he said.
‘Yes.’ I nodded wisely. ‘I don’t remember killing anyone. But I don’t remembernotkilling anyone either.’ I raised my shoulders helplessly. ‘I’m a danger to the public. Send me to prison!’
Mulroney sighed. Rather than ending the proceedings because of my botched confession, he started with his other questions. ‘Ms Hatter, please explain what brought you to the vicinity of the Manchester Library on Monday 8th October.’
I sank back in my chair. I would have to try a lot harder than I’d thought to get these two to charge me properly. Didn’t they know who I was? Couldn’t they spot my dangerous edge? I twisted my lips into a snarl and did my best to help them along. ‘I’d heard that Rubus, a local drug dealer, was going to be there and that he was up to no good. Plus, I wanted some drugs.’
Viburna shot me a narrow-eyed look.
‘What is this alleged drug dealer’s full name?’
I shrugged. ‘Rubus Evil Bastard. I don’t know his last name. I just know that he was going to be there doing bad things.’ It was a sort of truth. ‘When he didn’t do what I wanted, I wrestled a gun from him.’
‘Wrestled?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘someone knocked him to the ground and the gun he was holding fell with him. I took it. It was almost a wrestle.’ I smiled nicely. ‘Then once I had it, I shot it.’
‘At who?’
‘I think the question you want to ask is ‘at whom’?’
