‘What the fuck is this, Penny?’
‘They’re just asking me questions about Greg – routine questions, okay?’ Penny said wearily, as if placating her brother was a regular chore.
‘And you’re asking if he was a poofter?’ said Gary. ‘Is that the best you lot can do? Greg might have been a tosser…’
‘Gary!’
‘But he weren’t a poof. You hear?’ said Gary, holding up a finger and prodding the air for emphasis.
‘Sir, may we ask you to wait outside whilst we finish?’ started Peterson.
‘Don’t call me “sir”. You don’t mean it!’ Gary said. He opened the fridge and stuck his head inside, muttering, ‘Darkie bastard.’
‘What did you just say?’ asked Peterson. Erika could see he was breathing fast.
Gary stood up, holding a can of lager, and shut the fridge door. ‘I didn’t say nothing.’
‘I heard you,’ said Erika.
‘So did I,’ said Moss. ‘You called my colleague a “darkie bastard”.’
‘No, I didn’t. Even if I did, this is my house, and I can say what I like. And if you don’t like what you hear, you can fuck off… Come back with a warrant.’
‘Mr Wilmslow, these are routine questions for a murder enquiry…’ started Erika.
‘You lot are fucking useless. It’s easier for three of you to sit here hassling us when we’ve had a death in the family than go out there and look for whoever did this.’
‘May I remind you that racially abusing an officer is a criminal offence,’ said Peterson, moving close to Gary and staring him in the eyes.
‘So is murder, but I’d be within my rights to defend myself if you’re gonna get aggressive, on my property.’
‘GARY!’ shouted Penny. ‘Leave it. Go and see if Mum and Peter are okay… Go on, now!’
Gary raised the can and opened it, spattering lager over Peterson’s face. There was a tense moment, then Gary took a slurp of his beer and left, slamming the door behind him.
‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry… He don’t like the police,’ said Penny. She pulled some paper towel off a roll and handed it to Peterson with a trembling hand.
‘Are you okay to continue? We’re almost finished,’ said Erika, as Peterson wiped his face. Penny nodded. ‘We don’t ask these questions lightly. We found some gay pornographic magazines in your husband’s bedside drawer.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes. We need to know why they were there. They were probably nothing, and he was just curious. But I have to ask you if you know whether Gregory was bisexual, or acting on any impulses to seek out or meet men? It will help us with our enquiry. If your husband was living a secret life and meeting up with men, or inviting men…’
‘All right, yes, I get it!’ snapped Penny. ‘I bloody get it!’ She lit up another cigarette and exhaled, chucking the lighter down on the draining board with a clank. She looked like she didn’t know how to process this information. There was a long pause. ‘I dunno… Once… On one of the rare occasions we got drunk together, Gregory talked about wanting to try a threesome. We were on holiday in Greece, we were having a good time… I thought that he meant with him and another girl, but he wanted… He wanted another guy to join in.’
‘Did this surprise you?’ asked Erika.
‘Course it bloody surprised me! He was always so conventional, missionary position and all that.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing happened. He bottled it, said he was joking, to see what my reaction would be.’ Penny crossed her arms over her chest.
‘What was your reaction when he told you?’
‘I dunno. It was a gorgeous island, we were having a great time. There were some well hot Greek blokes. I figured it could have been fun, something crazy and fun. We never had fun.’
‘And did it disturb you that he’d suggested it?’
‘No. I loved him – at the time I loved him – and he was so strait-laced, it felt nice that he’d shared something with me…’ She broke down and began to cry.
‘So, do you think your husband could have been gay?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Penny said, lifting her head and regarding Erika with a grim stare. ‘Now, is that all?’
‘Yes, thank you. We’d like to send an officer over later to collect you, so that you can come and identify your husband’s body,’ said Erika.