Chapter Three-2

483 Words
‘WHY WON’T YOU ADMIT it?’ Rafferty sat back and stared at Babbington in frustration. The thought of the mountain of paperwork he’d be forced to complete because of the man’s sheer pig-headedness almost made him groan out loud. ‘Why would I, when I didn’t do it?’ Babbington sat back arms folded and stared right back. ‘I’d have to be a complete imbecile to have killed Hunter-York in the way you described and expect to get away with it. I can assure you I’m far from being an imbecile.’ ‘You like a drink, though, don’t you? Clearly, you must have been one over the eight when you—’ ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Rafferty. I haven’t had a drink for most of the past week.’ Babbington sat back with an air of satisfaction, head back at a sufficient angle so he could study Rafferty as if he had discovered a strange new species. ‘Oh yes?’ Rafferty shot back, disbelief evident in his voice. ‘When did you think that one up?’ ‘Oh, really. This is absurd. I don’t need to think it up. It’s a fact. I decided to clean up my act. I even went so far as to throw out all my supplies. No doubt, you’ll find them in the refuse.’ Llewellyn gave a satisfied sigh. He gazed blandly back at Rafferty, as if his belief in Babbington’s innocence was vindicated by this assertion that his man hadn’t been drunkenly befuddled at all, but was in full possession of all his considerable faculties. Rafferty scowled. He wasn’t buying it. ‘Really? How can I know you didn’t throw the bottles out on the day of the murder – which would make it premeditated – to “prove” your innocence?’ ‘I suggest you direct your question to Professor Curtis,’ Babbington sniffed. Rafferty was almost tempted to tell him, like he had with Llewellyn, that it was common to sniff. Instead, he said, ‘And why would I do that?’ He glanced at Llewellyn, who, for some reason, found it necessary to fiddle with the recording apparatus, and then he turned back to Babbington. ‘Unless he chooses to lie – which, even though he’s a decent sort, as far as my colleagues go, wouldn’t greatly surprise me – he saw me, and heard the bottles rattle when I threw them out last week.’ ‘He probably thought they were your empties.’ As did Rafferty. ‘He saw they were full. One of the bags broke. He made a jokey comment, which I won’t trouble to repeat.’ Babbington’s nostrils flared. ‘Curtis is not the most sensitive of men.’ Rafferty, at last accepting that Babbington wouldn’t change his plea, sat back, and said to Llewellyn, ‘Have you any questions for Professor Babbington, Sergeant?’ ‘No. Indeed, no.’ ‘Very well.’ Rafferty gave Babbington the Caution, and got up from his chair, adding, ‘Again, I would suggest you avail yourself of a solicitor.’ ‘And I will tell you again—an innocent man, such as I, has no need of a solicitor.’ Rafferty shrugged, much as to say, suit yourself. ‘You will be up before the Magistrates this morning. They’ll remand you in custody.’ Rafferty looked sharply at his prisoner, ‘You’d better start preparing your defence, Professor Babbington.’ He opened the door of the interview room, said, ‘Take him back to the cells, Constable. The van for the Magistrate’s Court is due in ten minutes.’ ***
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