Chapter 38
‘Ihad wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember,’ Stahl said. ‘When I was eight I had my mother send off for correspondence courses in how to construct novels, how to write poetry, how to … write. And I devoured them. Thought I’d take off when I was a young man. Drive Route 66 during the day, write the Great American Novel at night.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Apart from the fact thateveryonewas driving Route 66 while trying to write the Great American Novel?’
Poe nodded.
‘A classmate told me a girl he knew had scored higher on her exam than he had on his,’ Stahl explained. ‘And you’ve got to understand, this guy was a real brainbox, always finished top.’
‘But he was beaten by a girl and he didn’t like it?’
‘He wasn’t moaning. But it awakened something in me, something I didn’t even know existed.’
‘Your inner, nosey-needs-to-know?’
‘Something like that. So I looked into it. Found I had a talent for seeing where the real story was. Realised it was something I could maybe do for a living.’
‘And?’ Bradshaw said.
‘And what?’
‘What happened with the exam result?’ Bradshaw didn’t like loose ends.
‘Oh that?’ Stahl said. ‘The teacher had been shagging the girl. No crime had been committed as she was seventeen, but I found a pattern of him favouring students he was in a sexual relationship with. I went to university, got a degree in English then applied for a job with the local rag.’
‘Where was that?’ Poe asked.
‘Peckham.’
‘Lovely jubbly.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes … well, I was put on the crime beat so I got to hone my interview techniques. Got used to asking open questions. Using the pause, not being afraid of silence.’
Poe nodded. Interview skills were the same for journalists as they were for cops. ‘And that’s when you made the step up to Fleet Street?’
‘I’d interviewed the wife of a man who’d murdered a girl collecting money for the air ambulance. And something appeared off, right from the beginning. She wanted money for the story – I mean, they all did – but there wasn’t much with the local paper. More of a whip round than a budget. She’d asked, off the record, if she told me something that hadn’t come out in court, would it make a difference to her payment. I was honest and said no, not with my paper. But if it were juicy enough, the nationals would pick it up. There might be money on the follow-ups.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘Nothing. She correctly guessed that if she bypassed me and went straight to theSunshe stood a much better chance of being paid.’
‘So you dug in?’
‘I did. Spoke to her neighbours, her friends, anyone who knew her.’
‘You found it?’
‘Turns out sheknewher husband hadn’t killed the girl. He’d been having an affair with a married woman and his wife had been watching them that night. Was going to confront them both but bottled it. When the police arrested him, the married woman denied all knowledge of the affair. He was left without an alibi and the jury convicted him.’
‘She could have cleared his name?’
‘Absolutely.’