Silas Nash Book !: Hush Hush Honeysuckle: Chapter 31.

‘You see our predicament, Mr Finch?’ Nash said.

Nash and Brown were on their third cup of coffee at their third house that day. The children were fussing around in the kitchen, and Jonathan got up and closed the door to the lounge so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

‘I can’t see why you’d think it was Max. He’s not a killer.’

'No. We know because some of The Florists’ work was done while we had Max in custody. So, unless he was in two places at once, it couldn’t be him.’

‘Well, I could have told you that. I did say this in my previous interviews. If Max has proved his innocence now, I really don’t see what more help I can be to you, so if you’ll excuse me, Detective Nash, I have things to be getting on with.’

‘Just a few more questions, if you don’t mind, sir.’

‘I’m watching the children. At least you haven’t come in uniform this time, like the last lot. They frightened my kids. I’ve told you everything I can think of to further your investigation.’

Nash wasn’t coming down hard at this point. He wanted to let Finch talk himself into a trap. ‘If you wouldn’t mind sitting back down, sir.’

‘I’ve said everything I’ve got to say. That you’re barking up the wrong tree. This is nothing to do with Max Jones, and the mere fact that you’d think anybody around here could be mixed up in something so evil is ridiculous.’

‘Where is Mrs Finch?’

‘She’s in her office upstairs. She’s a telesales assistant. Hence the reason I’ve got the children. Would it be possible for you to call another day?’ They heard a yell from the garden. Finch looked through the window to check on the kids, who had left the kitchen to go outside. Carter was winding his sister up, and Finch rapped hard on the window to stop him.

‘This can’t wait, Mr Finch. We can either do this here or down at the station. It’s your choice.’

‘You say that? Wow, you really do say that.’ He sat down, but every few seconds, his eyes went to the window. ‘I need to watch Carter. He’s been a bit boisterous lately. It’s not like him.’ Nash had to stop him before he went as far as getting the baby photos out and loading a slide show to the TV from his phone or whatever they did these days.

‘I’d like to take you along our thought process if you can humour us for a second. We’ve had Mr Jones with us, and we’ve interviewed him at length. He’s passed a polygraph test with flying colours, and we know that he’s not The Florist. However, all of the victims, bar the last one, have been people that are or were connected to Mr Jones.’

‘Coincidence and bullshit.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Some old man that taught him a million years ago. And two boys that he didn’t know? I think your thought process is sketchy at best.’

‘We’ve found out that there was actually a connection between you and the two children.’

‘Me?’

‘Isn’t it true that the two boys were in the same junior football league as your son?’

‘Well, yes, that’s why we went to the funeral to pay our respects. Emily is friends with Gareth’s mum.’

‘And you used to take it in weekly turns to carpool the boys to training?’

‘Yes, and Emily sometimes, and I think even Max took them for us once when I was held up at work. Bugger me. You can’t be using that as a link to Max, surely. It’s so tenuous that it borders on the ridiculous.’

‘Children have trusted people on less of a connection, believe me. But to be honest, I’m interested in you.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You, Mr Finch.’

It took a while, but little bird Finch got there in the end. ‘You think I had something to do with this? That I’m this Florist character. That’s preposterous. I’m a married man.’

‘Most serial killers are.’

‘Do I need a solicitor? I haven’t got one. What do I do?’ He looked frightened and appealed to Brown. 'Do you agree with this rubbish?’ Nash was clearly a bad cop in his eyes.

Brown said, ‘Don’t worry. This is only an initial interview. Tell us the truth, and we’ll do everything we can to help you. If you feel you need a solicitor present, you can join us at the station, and we’ll get one for you. We just want to eliminate you from our line of enquiries.’

‘This is sounding more like a TV detective show by the second. I didn’t kill anybody. Hell, If somebody asked me how to murder a man, I wouldn’t have a clue. This is surreal, and I can’t get my head around it.’

‘You’re doing fine. Take your time. Did you know that we had Mr Jones in custody last week?’

‘What? No. I had no idea. He dumped the damned dog on us and went on a camping trip. There’s nothing unusual about that. Max does his own thing. Always has. We thought he’d gone off in that bloody camper van. He gets fads, spends a fortune, and then gets bored with his new hobby as quickly as he jumped on it. It boils my piss, to be honest.’

Nash didn’t give him time to think before coming in with this next question. He wished the kids weren’t making such a racket in the garden because he needed the suspect’s full attention. Throw in a piece of information and hit him straight away with a barrage of questions before he has time to think too much and come up with any alibis.

‘We’ve been watching you, Finch. We’ve had a team of officers on your back for over a week.’ Nash stood up and took a step towards Finch so that he towered above him. It was one of his tactics to tighten the noose around the suspect. Finch leaned back into the sofa. ‘There’s a lot of resentment when you talk about Jones. He dumped a dog on you. He went off without telling you. He spends a fortune on rubbish when you struggle to pay your bills. Is that how it is?’

‘No, of course not. Max is my best mate. We’ve known each other since we were kids.’

‘That’s a long time to build up a lot of resentment. Tell me the truth. What was your relationship like?’

‘I love him like a brother.’ His eyes went to the garden and back to Nash.

‘Brothers fight, though, don’t they? They don’t always get on.’

‘Can you sit down, please, Inspector Nash? You’re trying to intimidate me, and I won’t have it.’

‘Let’s go back to when you were kids. There was a lot of rivalry and one-upmanship between you. Always fighting to get the best conker, see who could piss furthest up the wall?’ Nash followed Finch’s eyes to the window. The little girl was standing against the garage wall, and the boy was kicking a football. One kid in goal, one striking, but he was going in pretty hard with that ball. If it hit her, it would do some damage. Finch flew up from his chair and banged on the window. ‘Carter, stop that. If that ball hits Lucy, it’ll hurt her. Can’t you go and play on your Xbox or something? Sorry, officer. What was the question?’ He sat down and watched the window as the children walked away from the garage. Carter had his ball under his arm. 'There you go—a classic example of sibling behaviour. Kids don’t think. If that football had hit her in the face, it would have been a hospital job. But kids don’t think, do they? And Carter loves his sister like I love Max.’

‘But you didn’t have that blood bond,’ Nash said. ‘You were friends, not, in fact, brothers.’

‘Can you get to the point, please, Inspector Nash? I don’t understand what you’re driving at.’

‘You said you were like brothers, but you didn’t have that blood bond. Surely rivalry could turn into resentment very quickly.’

‘If I resented Max to the point where I became a crazed murderer, wouldn’t I just kill him rather than everybody else?’

‘But you wouldn’t need to kill Max. He’s dying anyway. I’ve heard that Jones used to stick up for you against the bullies when you were kids. Having somebody to fight your battles must have made you feel very small and weak.’

‘No. I was picked on, and I was always grateful to Max for looking out for me.’

‘Wouldn’t it be good to be the strong one for once, though? We think you found a way to be the clever one. You really socked it to him by setting him up for murder, didn’t you?’ Nash went for him with the question, and Finch looked terrified.

‘I never killed anybody.’ He was saying exactly the same things as Jones had the week before, and like Jones, Nash believed that this guy was just as innocent. But that was the way of the true psychopath. They hid in plain sight and lived in normal society with a beautiful wife, two-point-four children and junior football league. Nash had to push him to at least try and make him crack.

‘We’ve heard about the big one, though. The one time you really got one over on Jones. You got the girl, didn’t you? Both of you fancied Emily Howell, and the underdog won for the first time in his life. It must be hard watching them year in and year out, knowing that your best made wants to steal your missus. Jones is in love with her, isn’t he? Always has been. Do you think they’ve ever done it? One week in three, you’re on the night shift. While you’re putting taper candles into boxes, do you think Jones is putting his taper into your wife’s box? You’ve always been punching, haven’t you, Finch?’

‘That’s disgusting, Detective. Not only are you throwing daggers at Max, but you’re questioning my wife’s morals. Max and Emily would never do that. How dare you speak about my wife like that. I won’t stand for it.’

‘Are you getting angry? What will you do? Will you come at me in the night with a big knife?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll report you to your superiors.’

‘He was one for the girls, though, our Max, wasn’t he? I suppose it was an unspoken pact not to talk about what happened to Fiona. Easier not to talk about it because then you’d have to choose a side between your annoying little sister and your best friend. Talk me through it. What was it like for a good catholic family to have a girl in trouble at barely seventeen?’

Finch dropped his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You have no idea. My parents were devastated. We managed to keep it away from most of the parishioners, but people talk, and the word still got around. Mum cried all the time. Fiona told Max once that it wasn’t his, and that was it. He believed that Fi had been sleeping around with half the town. In his head, he was exonerated. But Fiona was besotted with the bastard. She’d been in love with him all her life, and there was nobody else in her eyes except Max.’

‘And that bastard, as you rightly call him, just side-shifted to one of her friends, leaving your family to clean up his mess, as usual. Strictly between us, I don’t like him either, Jon. Too cocky for his own good, if you ask me.’

‘Yes,’ he shouted. He banged on the arm of his chair, his composure slipping. ‘I’m sorry.’ He calmed himself before he spoke again. ‘That’s Max to a tee. Devil may care, love them and leave them, and to hell with anybody’s real feelings.’

‘And you’ve sat on all that anger for years. He flings his money about and bails you out when you need a bit extra but holds it over your head like the sword of Damocles. Why should he have everything at his fingertips? He makes you look weak in front of your wife, doesn’t he? I’ll ask you again, Jonathan. What was your relationship like with Maxwell Jones?’

‘I love him and hate him in equal measure.’

‘I think this resentment was always going to boil over at some point. And now, damn that bastard to hell. He’s dying. So you’d never have your revenge. That’s what triggered you, isn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘Why did you kill them, Finch?’

‘I couldn’t have killed them because, for the last two weeks, when I haven’t been at my day job, I’ve been working as a leaflet distributor in the middle of town. My boss can verify it, not to mention the town centre security cameras.’

It was clear this suspect didn’t know a damned thing. Nash didn’t have any option but to let him go. But he was glad to release him because the real killer was still out there.

‘If that was true, you’d have told us when we arrived,’ Brown said.

‘I was going to, but you didn’t give me a chance. Jesus. The kids.’ Finch was out of his seat, and at first, Nash thought he was going to lunge at him, but he ran out of the room. Brown chased him, unclipping the handcuffs from her belt. Nash was slower to his feet. Through the window, he saw Lucy on the swing and Carter pushing her. Higher. And higher. Lucy was squealing with laughter—and then she wasn’t. That’s when he saw Finch and Brown in the garden.

Nash joined them on the lawn. Lucy was begging her brother to stop the swing and let her off. Carter had his head thrown back and was laughing from the pit of his stomach with every swing. It came back, and he pushed it again. The chains squealed as they reached their zenith and buckled on the way down. And with each thrust, he put more into it—more anger. More rage.

Jonathan tackled Carter and pulled him away from the swing. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘She wanted a push.’

‘She’s terrified. Look at her.’

‘Sorry, Luce.’

Jonathan pulled Lucy into his arms, and she sobbed against his shoulder.

‘Get out of my sight, Carter,’ Finch shouted at his son.

Brown readied the handcuffs to slap on Finch, despite him comforting his daughter. Nash knew if they had a serial killer on their hands, she wouldn’t give a damn that she was taking him in front of his children.

He put a hand on her arm to stop her. ‘Put those away, Brown. He’s not our man.’ He helped Finch to stand with Lucy still sobbing in his arms. ‘We’ll leave you now, Mr Finch, but we still need to get to the bottom of this.’