"Calm down, please, sir," she repeated firmly.
Now that Miles saw his opponent was also being held, he was not struggling as violently. Quickly, May turned to Owen. The other man was still clearly furious and had plenty to say.
"Let me at him! I have to teach my stepson a hard lesson," the older man raged.
Again, May felt sideswiped by shock.
This was Miles's stepdad? He'd been fighting so fiercely with his stepdad that they’d burst right through a window? This was totally unacceptable on both their parts, but particularly the stepdad who must have started this fight. What kind of a role model had Miles grown up with, if this was the behavior he’d been taught?
"You have no right to bully me!" Miles snarled back, clearly unrepentant.
"You stole my car!" the stepdad raged, scrambling to his feet as Owen hung on with all his might. He was also a big, strong guy, May noted, with thick, sandy-blonde hair and a glower on his fleshy face.
"I did not! Stop accusing me like that in front of the police!" Miles protested, but now May heard a note of panic in his tone.
"Let go of me! I have to teach this guy a lesson!" the stepdad roared at Owen.
"Not as yet, sir, I'm afraid," Owen stated calmly.
"He stole my car last night. He took it out, without permission, and now it has a big scratch along the side. It's a Porsche Cayenne! Damaged, because this idiot boy was joyriding in it!"
"You're lying," Miles protested. "There was no way it was me. You just have a grudge against me!"
"A grudge? I have a grudge? You stole my car and crashed it. I opened the garage this morning, and there was the damaged car, to prove it!" His face was dark with rage.
For a moment, May wondered if the two men might start fighting again. She held on tightly to Miles's strong arm, ready to apply more force if necessary to keep him in line.
"I need to speak to you, Mr. Taylor," she said firmly.
"Not now! He's attacking me! He's going to kill me!" Miles yelled.
"No," the stepdad snarled. "You're going to jail, you little monster!"
"That's enough," May said, shocked by the menace in both men's voices. They were like two bulls butting heads, she thought.
She decided to take charge, before these two men ripped each other apart.
"You are coming with me," she told Miles firmly.
"Like hell I will," he shrieked. "You're not arresting me. I won't go to jail. I'm innocent! He started this."
"We didn’t come here because you two were fighting. We came to speak to you about a different matter," May said, keeping her voice neutral yet firm. "I want to talk to you about Alyssa Darlington."
Instantly, Miles's expression hardened. His blue eyes narrowed to slits.
May didn't know how much he knew. If he was the killer, he was giving nothing away.
"What the hell? About her? No way, man, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m not the person you need," he snarled, trying to yank his arm away.
"Take him in. Lock him up. For the night, or better still, a few weeks," the stepfather snarled. "Now, if you can please let my arm go, officer, I need to call a panel beater." He glanced at the broken window. "And a glazier."
May turned Miles in the direction of the police cruiser, feeling relieved when Owen let go of the stepdad and grabbed his other arm. As May walked him to the vehicle, she noticed, through the open garage door, a silver Porsche Cayenne with a deep scratch all along one side.
She couldn't blame the stepfather for being mad, May decided, but that physical attack had been completely out of line. It was borderline dangerous behavior. She decided that when this was over, she’d come back and have a private chat with him about that. But now it was time to find out how far Miles's illegal activities had gone last night.
*
Twenty minutes later, Miles was installed in the Fairfield police department’s interview room. With his elbows on the desk, he made the wooden chair seem small. He looked full of anger and, May thought, also rather hungover. He’d clearly been driving under the influence, which was another concern, although they couldn’t prove it now.