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had said. When Brad didn’t react, he continued. ‘You knew her better than anyone. What happened could have happened on more than one occasion over the last few years, what with you two being so active. How long had you known about the secret passageway between the house and the church?’

A deep frown appeared on Dixon’s brow.

‘You do know about it, don’t you?’

Dixon’s silence, and his expression, suggested to Charley that perhaps he wasn’t aware of the tunnel, and that puzzled her, as how else would Hussain’s body have been dumped there? Or was this what Dixon wanted them to believe?

‘Look, I understand Faisal Hussain came to Crownest to sort things out, perhaps looking for revenge for his uncle’s death from heart failure sometime after your robbery of his shop. Mr Hussain’s body was found at Crownest having been shot in the head with your gun – the Baikal pistol which we found concealed under the bonnet of your mobile home. We know it’s your gun because your DNA and prints are all over it. We are also aware that you have discharged this weapon at previous robberies that you are known to have committed. Everything points to you as the killer of Mr Hussain. To emphasise again, as your solicitor has already informed you, your gun’s specifications are a ballistic match for Faisal Hussain’s execution. We are here to give you the opportunity to speak to us, to explain why that was necessary.’

Dixon remained silent. With cold, hard eyes, he glared at Mike again, and his fists clenched, while the tightening of his facial muscles showed a rhythmic twitch in his jaw.

‘Obviously you don’t want to talk to us, so let’s terminate the interview, and save everyone’s time,’ Mike barked, looking across at Annie. She nodded agreement and stood; she had remained silent throughout to allow the rapport developing between the men to continue.

Once they had stopped the recording device, Annie and Mike left the interview room quickly, but Mr Maddock and Brad Dixon remained. The detectives had only been back in the Incident Room for a short time when the office phone rang.

Mike was still shuffling into his suit jacket when he came to Charley’s door. ‘Boss, according to his solicitor, Dixon states he wants to speak to us,’ he said, a broad smile on his face.

‘Go for it, let’s hear what he has to say.’

‘Déjà vu,’ Mike said, watching Annie close the door of the interview room behind her as she slid into the seat opposite Dixon’s solicitor. Frustrating as it was, the necessary procedures of starting the camera and stating who was present had to be followed before the interview could start.

‘Now, what was it you wanted to say to us?’ Mike asked.

Dixon was slumped in his chair, elbow on the desk, fist to his cheek. ‘I didn’t kill him,’ he mumbled, ‘Neither did Britt.’

There was a long pause. Dixon sat back in his chair, and sighed heavily. His eyes lifted and found Mike’s face. Charley watched Mike and Annie wait patiently, using silence in the hope that Brad Dixon would continue. In the SIO’s head she counted the beats, the extra silent seconds that might make the difference to Dixon continuing or not.

‘I admit it was my gun, okay,’ he said eventually, ‘but it wasn’t me who killed him.’

Mike spoke with some finality in his voice. ‘I’m sorry, if that’s all you’ve got to say, it’s not enough. You need to tell us who else was there, and explain what happened if you want us to believe what you are now telling us is the truth, because the evidence we have already disclosed to you suggests otherwise.’

Slowly, Dixon turned towards Frank Maddock, who nodded in agreement.

‘The first thing you need to know is that Raglan is a drug addict. He’s a regular user of cocaine, which he snorts. It gives him the tremors, but he won’t stop. He let us live in the house for free, as long as he got his sherbert.’ Dixon gave a little nod. He stopped. Waited, it seemed for a reaction, but when he got none from the two detectives, he continued.

‘Anyways, Thomas, the money man, says he wants a meet with us with regard to moving us on. He told Raggy to tell us that he would make it worth our while. Raggy arranged it, a meet at Crownest, to do a deal. That night, we’re sat having a chat, doing a bit of haggling on a figure we’d accept to see us out of the house without any bother. Raggy was fucking spaced out. He was sat with this stupid grin on his face that I really wanted to wipe off, when suddenly this Asian guy crashed through the front door. At first I thought Raglan or Thomas had set us up; I thought the guy was one of your lot coming for us, but soon I realised that wasn’t the case. The next minute this guy has me grabbed in a headlock, and he has a gun pointing up my fucking nostril.’

‘What happened then?’ asked Mike.

‘He’s threatening to kill me; it’s summat about his uncle dying because me and Britt robbed his shop…’ Dixon shrugged his shoulders. ‘I couldn’t deny it, we might have done. But, what I did know was that we hadn’t killed anybody. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Raggy reach down the side of the chair he was sitting in and put his hand into my backpack. He pulled out my gun, the one you have, and then, bang, the gun goes off, and I realise I’m still standing, he hasn’t hit me, but he has hit the other guy, who drops like a stone at my feet.’

‘Are you suggesting that it was an accident?’ asked Annie.

Dixon sniggered. ‘Put it this way, it was obvious that Raggy had never held a fucking gun ’afore, love. But he probably saved my life.’

Annie’s head was to the side and she showed

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