of the crime, Cunningham had felt a show of rank worthwhile. It wasn't. Some tenants were still not at home, and most of their inquiries were carried out on the doorstep. Anna was feeling that it was all a waste of time. She had been inundated with the same complaints about the state of the building, and how many tenants had been waiting years to be rehoused.
Anna had left Mrs. Webster until last. Knowing the situation with her son, she had called to ask for a convenient time. Mrs. Webster had said that Jeremy would talk to them, but they had to interview him in his room. Anna felt this would be another real time-waster, but far be it from her to put a foot wrong with Cunningham.
Mrs. Webster was as neat and smart as she had been on the previous visit. Anna and Gordon waited in the hall as she tapped on her son's bedroom door and then went in. They waited three or four minutes before she came out and said they could now see Jeremy.
Anna walked in ahead of Gordon—and could hardly contain her surprise.
The room was quite spacious; shelves of DVDs were built around a large desk with a computer and small TV set on it. The speakers and DVD deck were stacked on top of one another next to some expensive-looking sound equipment. The walls were lined with tapes and records, all in alphabetical order. There were many magazines, neatly placed beside the desk. The small bed was made in a military style: folded top blanket, white sheet wrapped around, with two inches showing, and a pristine white pillow on top. There was a desk chair, and two spare canvas chairs propped against a wall. The carpet was dark blue and what space 011 the walls was not taken up with his collections was pristine white paint. Just as Anna was taken aback by the clinical room, in complete contrast to the rest of the flat, Jeremy himself was also something of a surprise.
He was extraordinarily good-looking. He had blond hair, well cut with a long top layer, and bright blue eyes with dark lashes; his cheeks were pinkish, almost like a child's. He was wearing slacks, a white shirt, leather slippers, and a blue knitted sweater. He had the appearance of someone scrubbed clean, almost too much so.
"Jeremy, I am Detective Inspector Anna Travis and this is Detective Constable Gordon Loach. Thank you for agreeing to see us."
Jeremy stared at Anna but made no move toward them.
"May we sit down?" Anna moved to the bed.
Jeremy stepped forward. "Not on my bed." He took the wo canvas chairs and carefully opened one, setting it down straight, and then the next, making sure they were exactly side by side.
"Thank you." Anna and Gordon sat down, and she took out her notebook from her briefcase. Jeremy stood directly in front of them. "Now, Jeremy, 1 am here to ask you about an incident that happened the night before last. Do you mind answering some questions?"
He nodded his head but remained standing, staring at them.
"Your mother contacted the local police station after hearing what she thought were gunshots and loud voices arguing. Do you remember that night?"
No reaction.
"We have subsequently discovered that a man had been shot."
No reaction.
"I am here just to confirm that and check out the time the shots were fired."
No reaction.
"Do you recall anything that might be of interest to the police?"
No reaction.
"Have you ever seen the people who were using the flat along the corridor? It's number nineteen."
No reaction. If he was taking in anything she was saying, there was not a flicker of interest in his bright button eyes. His presence was very unnerving, as he was standing so still, looking at a point just above their heads. Anna closed her notebook.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" His voice was low and guttural.
"Thank you but no, we won't keep you any longer, Jeremy."
"I don't like to be called that."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Webster."
"Jay."
"Oh, Jay. Well, I am sorry to have taken up your rime. I know you work two mornings a week at Waitrose. You clear the trolleys, don't you?"
No
Anna had left Mrs. Webster until last. Knowing the situation with her son, she had called to ask for a convenient time. Mrs. Webster had said that Jeremy would talk to them, but they had to interview him in his room. Anna felt this would be another real time-waster, but far be it from her to put a foot wrong with Cunningham.
Mrs. Webster was as neat and smart as she had been on the previous visit. Anna and Gordon waited in the hall as she tapped on her son's bedroom door and then went in. They waited three or four minutes before she came out and said they could now see Jeremy.
Anna walked in ahead of Gordon—and could hardly contain her surprise.
The room was quite spacious; shelves of DVDs were built around a large desk with a computer and small TV set on it. The speakers and DVD deck were stacked on top of one another next to some expensive-looking sound equipment. The walls were lined with tapes and records, all in alphabetical order. There were many magazines, neatly placed beside the desk. The small bed was made in a military style: folded top blanket, white sheet wrapped around, with two inches showing, and a pristine white pillow on top. There was a desk chair, and two spare canvas chairs propped against a wall. The carpet was dark blue and what space 011 the walls was not taken up with his collections was pristine white paint. Just as Anna was taken aback by the clinical room, in complete contrast to the rest of the flat, Jeremy himself was also something of a surprise.
He was extraordinarily good-looking. He had blond hair, well cut with a long top layer, and bright blue eyes with dark lashes; his cheeks were pinkish, almost like a child's. He was wearing slacks, a white shirt, leather slippers, and a blue knitted sweater. He had the appearance of someone scrubbed clean, almost too much so.
"Jeremy, I am Detective Inspector Anna Travis and this is Detective Constable Gordon Loach. Thank you for agreeing to see us."
Jeremy stared at Anna but made no move toward them.
"May we sit down?" Anna moved to the bed.
Jeremy stepped forward. "Not on my bed." He took the wo canvas chairs and carefully opened one, setting it down straight, and then the next, making sure they were exactly side by side.
"Thank you." Anna and Gordon sat down, and she took out her notebook from her briefcase. Jeremy stood directly in front of them. "Now, Jeremy, 1 am here to ask you about an incident that happened the night before last. Do you mind answering some questions?"
He nodded his head but remained standing, staring at them.
"Your mother contacted the local police station after hearing what she thought were gunshots and loud voices arguing. Do you remember that night?"
No reaction.
"We have subsequently discovered that a man had been shot."
No reaction.
"I am here just to confirm that and check out the time the shots were fired."
No reaction.
"Do you recall anything that might be of interest to the police?"
No reaction.
"Have you ever seen the people who were using the flat along the corridor? It's number nineteen."
No reaction. If he was taking in anything she was saying, there was not a flicker of interest in his bright button eyes. His presence was very unnerving, as he was standing so still, looking at a point just above their heads. Anna closed her notebook.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" His voice was low and guttural.
"Thank you but no, we won't keep you any longer, Jeremy."
"I don't like to be called that."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Webster."
"Jay."
"Oh, Jay. Well, I am sorry to have taken up your rime. I know you work two mornings a week at Waitrose. You clear the trolleys, don't you?"
No
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