“Yes. So, now that you’ve given us something else to look into in terms of your conduct with women, I’d quite like to speak to you about what you were doing last night.” Laura watched him carefully, trying to gauge whether his startled response was real or put-upon.
“Last night?” Scott said, wiping what might have been sweat from his forehead. “Um. I was at home. I got back from work around seven at night and then I had dinner and went to bed. Why?”
“And the night before?” Laura asked.
“The same thing,” he said. “I’m shooting on this show at the moment as an extra, and they have us wait around from five in the morning until past five at night, so when I get home, I’m pretty tired.”
“Okay,” Laura said, opening the file for real this time. “So, what you’ve just told me – is there anyone who can verify it? That you were at home all evening?”
“No,” Scott said. “No, I live alone. That’s why I was on a date with Marta.” He blanched slightly as the name came out of his mouth, as if realizing that he had just reminded them of his own culpability.
“Do you know who this woman is?” Laura asked, taking a photograph out of the file and laying it down in front of him. It was a photograph of Lucile Maddison, as she was when alive and well.
“Yes,” Scott said quickly, then looked up in what Laura thought might be shock. Perhaps he was putting the pieces together. Realizing why they might want to talk to him about it. “She was my acting coach a while ago.”
“She was more than your coach, wasn’t she?” Nate asked, finally speaking up. He had a raised eyebrow, and his tone was playful, as if he was chatting with one of the boys. “A woman like that?”
“Okay, fine, we dated,” Scott said. He looked harassed now. “But we haven’t spoken in ages. Months. Honestly. What’s… wait, is she the one who…?”
“It was more than dating, wasn’t it, Scott?” Laura said. “You wouldn’t leave her alone after the relationship ended. You didn’t want to accept it was over. You only haven’t spoken to her because she told you she would call the police if you spoke again, isn’t that right?”
“But I haven’t,” Scott said, desperately. The idea of the threat had been a nice touch Laura had thought of; to make him admit it had gone that far when they really had no proof it had. “Spoken to her, I mean. I haven’t seen her. I did what she wanted. I left her alone!”
“Is that true?” Laura asked. “Or did you see her two nights ago, Scott?”
“No, I didn’t!” Scott exclaimed. “Please, you have to tell me – is she… is she alright, or…?”
“I’m afraid the woman in this photograph is dead, Scott,” Laura said. She held his gaze, saw him crumble a little at the words. He was acting like he was in grief at hearing it. But then, a murderer might well be affected emotionally by hearing the police talk about the crime he had committed, because he would be worried about getting caught. Without leaving Scott enough time to fully process what she had said, she slipped another photograph in front of him. “Do you recognize this woman?”
“What? Oh… yeah. I know her,” Scott said, confused and put on the back foot, still reeling from the first thing.
“How do you know her?”
“We went on a date recently. Suzie. I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”
“Do you always date acting coaches, Scott?” Laura asked.
Scott looked up with a frown. “What?”
“Suzie was an acting coach as well. Do you not date women who aren’t in the acting profession in some way?”
“I didn’t…” Scott shook his head, blinking. “I didn’t know she was a coach. But yeah. I mostly date actresses. We hang out in the same places. People who aren’t like us don’t get it. The struggle, the schedule. They can’t appreciate what it’s like.”
Laura noted that, thinking it might be something to circle back to later. The frustration, the self-pity. Maybe it could build into his motive. “You say you don’t think it’s going anywhere with Suzie. We have some text messages which you wrote to her, Scott, which suggest you think the date went well.”
Scott blanched again, before a red patch appeared on his neck and crept up towards his ears. “I… I thought it did. But she wasn’t into it. Which was fine, I’ve moved on.”
“You didn’t seem to think it was fine at the time,” Laura said. She lifted out a page of the text message transcript and laid it in front of him. “’You’ll pay for this, you bitch’?”
“Oh, God,” Scott said, his voice muffled as he covered his face with his hands. “I was drunk when I wrote that. I didn’t mean it.”
“How was she going to pay for it, Scott?” Laura asked. “Was she going to pay for it with her life?”
“What?” Scott looked up, raising his head out of his hands sharply. “You don’t mean… they both…” He looked back down at the images in front of him uncertainly, his eyes widening.
“Yes, Scott,” Laura said. “We found Suzanna Brice’s body last night. Could you tell me again what you were doing between the hours of seven and midnight?”
“I didn’t…” Scott shook his head rapidly. Tears were filling up in his eyes. But it could all be an act, Laura reminded herself. It could all be part of his prepared performance. “I… she was… she can’t b