Chapters (156)
- A DATE WITH DEATH
- Also by Mark Roberts
- A Date With Death
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- The Past
- 1977
- Day OneWednesday, 1st December 2021CatoptrophobiaFear of mirrors
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- The Past
- 1979
- Day TwoThursday, 2nd December 2021OneirophobiaFear of dreams
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- The Past
- 1980
- Day ThreeFriday, 3rd December 2021MonophobiaFear of being alone
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- The Past
- 1982
- Day FourSaturday, 4th December 2021ThanatophobiaFear of Death
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- About the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
‘My tenner says he was never married. He doesn’t like women. That’s what his DVD collection’s telling me. We’ll sort through it after we’ve been through his clothes.’
‘Do you think Marlene Black’s going to be a reliable witness?’
Mason carried on lifting fibres from Edgar McKee’s brushed cotton shirt and thought about the consequences for her if she wasn’t.
‘She’ll be in a whole lot of shit if she doesn’t tell the truth. She’d be looking at jail time. Perverting the course of justice.’
As Mason worked on Edgar McKee’s shirt, he offered up a prayer of thanks to the god of forensics. The thought of directly touching anything that had come into contact with Edgar McKee’s skin made him want to puke.
Outside, the wind rumbled and rain lashed down.
‘OK with you if I open a window, Paul?’
‘I was about to ask you the same question.’
The central heating in the room was drawing the sour smells from Edgar McKee’s possessions.
As he opened the window, Mason said, ‘I tell you who I feel sorry for. Poppy Waters. I can only guess at the shit on his laptop and iPhone.’
93
11.05 pm
The naked arrogance that had defined Edgar McKee during his first visit to Interview Suite 1 was replaced by a calm neutrality that Clay guessed had been prompted and strongly advised by his solicitor, Monica Davis.
McKee stared at the digital clock on the audio recorder to his left as Clay formally opened the interview; he appeared to neither listen nor care.
Monica Davis chipped in, ‘Before you start questioning Mr McKee, he’s asked me to read a statement on his behalf. He wants it to be formally reiterated and recorded that he walked into Trinity Road police station with the express purpose of supporting Robin Wren, who should not be here under any circumstances whatsoever. Edgar McKee and Robin Wren are innocent of any criminal charges relating to the abduction, murder and mutilation of young women in the north-west of England, namely Warrington and Liverpool.’
Clay eyeballed McKee. ‘I hear you.’ She looked at his fists bunched on the table in front of her and they were massive. ‘Let’s start with your van, Edgar, your Ford Transit van. Problem number one.’
‘For?’
‘You. Just before I came downstairs to interview you, I received a phone call from Detective Sergeant Stone, the officer I assigned to go to your lock-up. The van wasn’t there. The lock-up was completely empty.’
Clay took out her iPhone and pulled up the roll of images Stone had sent to her. She showed the screen to Edgar McKee, who frowned.
‘Is that the door of your lock-up?’ asked Clay, pointing to a dark door with a number 7 painted crudely in thick strokes of white paint.
‘Yes.’
She scrolled. ‘Is this the interior of your lock-up?’
‘It looks like.’