Page 6 of Skulk of Foxes
Jones drummed her fingers on the table in irritation. Good. I wanted her to despise me. It was the easiest way to get this all done and dusted.
‘I guess you were off school that day,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I shot the gun into the air. I wasn’t aiming at anyone.’
I felt Viburna relax slightly now that I was doing what she’d told me to do. Even Jones appeared placated. Given that my actions could well have been filmed, just like my murder of Charrie was, I didn’t feel like I could say anything else.
‘You also shouted something. What did you shout?’
‘‘I have killed before’,’ I intoned, ‘‘and I shall kill again’.’
Mulroney leaned forward. ‘What did you mean by that?’
I frowned. ‘Which words don’t you understand?’
‘Who had you killed before?’
A sudden knot of unexpected – and very real – tension tightened in my chest. ‘I don’t remember. As I keep saying, I have amnesia. But I think I might have killed a man called Charrie. I believe you have evidence that proves I did just that.’
At a nod from Mulroney, Jones took out a photo from a brown envelope and slid it across the table. I immediately recognised it; it was indeed a still from the golf-course CCTV footage, the footage that proved once and for all that I’d killed Charrie by cutting off his head with a sword.
I bit my lip. This was what I wanted, I reminded myself. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I think that’s him.’
‘Good,’ she said, obviously pleased. ‘We have his wife and children next door.’
The last of my well-intentioned, lock-me-up-now bluster flew out of the window with all the speed of a buzzard on crack. What? My mouth felt dry. ‘Wife and children?’
‘She’s a grieving widow now. And those cute little kiddies will grow up without a father.’
All I could do was stare at the pair of them. I supposed it would be a bad thing if I vomited all over their digital recorder.
‘Charrie’s wife is very keen to talk to us. She’s being interviewed right now.’ DC Jones sounded positively gleeful.
My shoulders sagged. ‘I’m an evil bitch,’ I whispered.
Mulroney raised his eyebrows. He didn’t disagree. No one did. ‘Your alleged amnesia—’ he began.
There was another knock at the door and a head popped round the edge of it. Jones got up. Although she kept her voice low, I had keen enough hearing to hear every word. ‘The entire footage?’ she asked.
‘We just ran corruption software on it. Some of the images are still blurry but most of it is visible. You’ll want to see it. You should probably watch it on your own first, though.’
Jones sniffed. ‘We have nothing to hide. We’ll watch it with the suspect.’
She took the proffered laptop and returned to her seat. ‘We have obtained some evidence,’ she said. ‘The full footage of the night in question. This is a video from Chorlton Golf Course. It was deliberately corrupted but we’ve managed to recover most of it. I’m sure you didn’t expect that our technological abilities would be quite so advanced, Ms Hatter,’ she added, implying that it was my efforts that had corrupted the footage in the first place. Not for lack of trying, I thought. Rubus, in the glamoured guise of Mendax, had gotten there before me.
‘We are all seeing this for the first time.’ Jones licked her lips in anticipation. I felt even more nauseous. Viburna was looking rather pale too. Either that, or she was just lacking in Vitamin D.
‘We’ve already seen an image from a video that shows you using a sword to cut off Charrie Mickelson’s head. The video was a short clip, however. Here is the scene in its entirety.’ Jones smiled. ‘This will be interesting.’
I didn’t want to look; I didn’t want to watch myself killing another living being yet again. I deserved to be made to look, though. Whoever Charrie was, I owed it to him to at least live through the experience again. And I owed it to his family, who were just next door.
Jones pressed play. Collectively, we held our breaths.
The boffin who’d handed her the laptop was right: the first images were desperately grainy. Neither did it help that the footage was from night time. It was just possible to make out a flag then, as the murkiness dissipated somewhat, I recognised the spot where I’d woken up. The spot where I’d murdered Charrie.
A moment later, the man himself wandered into view. His body appeared to be drooping and his feet were shuffling. He didn’t look like someone who was thrilled to have finally obtained Chen’s little magical sphere.
For several moments nothing happened. I wanted to cry out to him to run, to get away and escape while he still could. But it was pointless; the video we were watching had been taken three weeks earlier. This was the past. There was nothing I could do to change it now.
As I continued to watch the screen, wholly aware of the sickening fate that was about to befall the bogle, another person came into view. It was unmistakably me. I held up a hand towards Charrie as if in friendly greeting then walked right up to him with that damned rowan-poisoned sword in my hand. I started gesticulating and talking. I didn’t appear to be threatening him, although I was waving the stupid weapon around.
