Page 47 of Imperfection (DI Gardener 2)

“Pardon?”

“Your favourite film, what is it?”

“I... er... I’m not sure. Something black and white I imagine, an Ealing comedy.”

“Why?”

; “What do you mean, why?”

“Simple enough question, Mr Cuthbertson. Why do you like films from that era, Ealing comedies in particular?”

“Because they knew how to make films then. Good, wholesome films with people who could act. Not just the comedies, but the kitchen-sink drama as well. Films that dealt with real people in real situations. Not the garbage you get now, science fiction, horror, sex. There’s enough horror in the real world without having TV and cinema ram it down your throat. You only have to look at my shop to see that. And here you are accusing me when I haven’t done anything.”

“No one is accusing you. If anything, we’re trying to eliminate you from our enquiries, and the only way we can do that is to be very thorough. Wouldn’t you agree?” asked Gardener.

“Absolutely.”

“Wouldn’t want to go to prison for something you haven’t done, would you, now?” said Reilly. “Especially for a crime like this. You know what they do to people in prison who have killed women?”

“Look, if you’re trying to frighten me...”

“We’re not,” replied Gardener. “We’re trying to find out why a young girl has been butchered on your premises, and there are times when our job is not very nice, but we still have to do it. If you’re innocent, you have nothing to worry about. Now, can we please get back to the matter in hand?”

Cuthbertson took another sip of coffee.

“Ealing comedies,” said Reilly.

A silence descended upon the room. When it was obvious that Reilly wasn’t going to elaborate, Cuthbertson spoke up. “What about them?”

“Does the name Wallace Henry Corndell mean anything to you?”

Cuthbertson took his time before answering. “No, should it?”

“William, maybe?”

“No. I’ve never heard of him, either.”

“What about Inspector Burke?” Gardener asked.

“Who the bloody hell’s he?” asked Cuthbertson. “Another one of your lot?”

“For a man who likes his films, you don’t know much about them,” said Reilly.

“I never said I was into films, not in the way you mean. Theatre and stage is more my thing.”

“I see,” said Reilly. “Well that figures, given the type of shop you run. Like dressing up, do you? Putting on the make-up, that kind of thing?”

Cuthbertson narrowed his eyes. “I’ve done a bit, why do you ask?”

“What other interests do you have?” asked Gardener.

Cuthbertson stalled before answering, as if he was trying to work out where they were heading. “I like to read.”

“What sort of books?”

“Biographical. Mostly non-fiction.”