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
‘That’s what I brought you down here for. Sergeant Harris, please escort Mr McKee into the interview suite and then take Wren back down to the cells.’
McKee walked past Clay as he followed Sergeant Harris into the interview suite, looked at her, the rising darkness inside him forming in his eyes. ‘You’re clutching at straws. You’re pathetic.’
‘Take a seat in the interview suite, Mr McKee. Detective Sergeant Hendricks is waiting for you. And calm yourself down.’
Winters handed Clay a piece of paper.
‘It’s what he got up to last night with Marlene Black, aka Susan Hurst.’
Clay unfolded the paper, noticed the neatness of the writing and the filth within it.
‘Charmed, I’m sure. Clive, go check out the CCTV at the Travelodge.’
98
11.51 pm
Clay took her place next to Hendricks across the table from Edgar McKee and his solicitor, and didn’t take her eyes away from his reptilian gaze.
‘I’ve got some good news for you, Mr McKee. For now, at least.’
‘You saw it with your own eyes, Clay, and heard it with your own ears just out there. Anything Robin Wren may or may not have said to you counts for shit. He’s intelligent, yes. But he’s disabled and lives in a world of his own. What do you say to that?’ asked McKee.
‘I’d say that it’s my place to ask questions and yours to answer them.’
Clay looked at the words on the page in her hand, felt the sharpness of the irony of the pastel flowers that adorned its borders.
‘What were you doing, Mr McKee, between eight and ten o’clock last night?’
He smiled as he gazed back at Clay.
‘I told you the first time we met. I was in the Travelodge by Liverpool One with a prostitute.’
‘Her name?’
‘Marlene Black.’
‘Is that her real name?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘How long were you with her?’
‘I booked her for two hours.’
‘Are you a regular client of hers?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘What did you do together?’ asked Clay.
‘Sex. What do you think we’d do? Play Monopoly?’
‘Specifically, what kind of sex did you have?’
Edgar McKee looked at his solicitor, the smile on his face now gone.
‘I don’t see where this is going, DCI Clay,’ said Ms Davis.
‘We’ve been to see her. She wrote down on this piece of paper what kind of sex Mr McKee had with her. She suggested to DC Winter that if I asked Mr McKee what kind of sexual activity had passed between them, that it would make the alibi she was giving him more concrete. I’m giving Mr McKee a break.’
‘Answer the question, Mr McKee,’ instructed Ms Davis.
‘Oral sex and anal sex,’ said Edgar McKee, in a flat voice that sounded like it could have been ordering fish and chips.