Lewis looked to the lawyer for support. Found none. He turned to his mother

B rian drew a deep breath. Exhaled at length. “I’ll ask you again, Lewis – did you do anything before you left St Machar kirkyard that evening?”

There was a long silence while Lewis inspected each of his chewed fingernails in turn.

“I asked you a question.”

The boy looked up. “We jist wanted tae mak her comfy.”

“Comfy?” Burnett probed. “How?”

“Liftin’ her up, like. Onta one o’ they big stanes.” “Whose idea was that, Lewis?”

“Canna remember.” The boy’s eyes slid away. “Think,” Brian urged. “This is important.” Lewis hesitated, then, “Willie’s.”

“And did you help Willie?” he pressed.

Lewis nodded.

“How did you do that?”

“Took an arm and a leg each, the four o’ us. No’ Kyle. He’s naethin bit a pain.”

“Lewis!” The lad’s mother jabbed him sharply in the ribs.

“So,” Burnett steepled his fingers, “you admit, Lewis, to having moved Lucy’s body.”

Covert glance

Lewis cast a covert glance at the lawyer who sat, expressionless, by his side. “Aye.”

“Is it OK if I ask you some questions?” This addressed to Lewis by detective constable Susan Strachan, who sat alongside Brian.

Lewis looked to the lawyer for support. Found none. He turned to his mother.

“Dinna look at me,” Morag Mchardy ducked away, defeat written all over her face. In her short career, Susan had seen that look on too many women: women worn down by circumstance and kept down by need.

The boy looked at the DC. He nodded.

“After you left the kirkyard – you, Willie, Kieran, Ryan and Kyle – can you tell me what happened then?”

Lewis thrust out his chin. “We went hame.”

“All of you?”

“Aye. Kyle hud tae be hame by eight o’clock.” The DC lowered her voice. “Then can you explain to me, Lewis, why your pals had to come looking for you?”

The boy’s leg started to spasm. “Dunno.” “Because that’s what happened, isn’t it?” “N-no.”

Susan shifted in her seat. “How would you respond, Lewis, if I said you were telling fibs?”

The boy looked up at the video camera. Looked down at the constable. “Ah’m no.”

“I need to remind you, Lewis,” she persisted, “that the reason I’m asking these questions is because the police are investigating a murder here.

“This is a very serious matter, and the way you answer my questions could have very grave consequences. Do you understand me?” “Y-yes.”

“Well, then,” she adopted a more conciliatory tone, “let me ask you again. Did you go back to the kirkyard on your own that evening?”

“Christ almighty!” The boy’s mother leapt to her feet. There was a soft pattering sound. A pool of liquid formed on the floor by the boy’s seat.

Not again! Susan sighed inwardly. She turned to her superior officer for guidance.

“Let’s take a break,” Brian announced. “Interview suspended at…” He checked the time on the clock, switched off the tape and rose to his feet.

Encouragement

The red light on the recorder winked. “Are you all right now, Lewis?” Brian enquired.

The boy nodded.

“Did they get you something to eat?”

His face lit up. “Coke and a Kitkat.”

“Good. Well then, do you remember that before your wee break, you were going to tell us about going back into the kirkyard? Is that what you did, Lewis?” The lad shuffled in his seat. “Might have.” “And just say you did,” Brian smiled encouragement, “what might you have done? Once you got back there, that is?”

Lewis turned his head away. “Don’t remember.” Morag Mchardy’s bulk stirred in its chair. “Ur we gaun tae sit here aw nicht?”

“Mrs Mchardy, you’ve already been warned…” “Aye,” she glowered, “richt.” She turned to her son. “Ye better tell the man. If there’s onythin’ tae tell.”

Lewis studied his trainers. He stuck a finger in his mouth, gnawed on it for a few moments, took it out again. “Ah wanted a keek at the quine’s willy. Oh,” he corrected. “Wimmin dinna hae a willy.”

Brian resisted the urge to smile. “That’s right, Lewis. They don’t. So correct me if I’m wrong – you wanted to have a look at Lucy’s private parts.” “Aye.”

“And to do that, did you have to pull down her jeans?”

The boy nodded again. “An’ her breeks.”

“Yah wee…” Morag Mchardy’s outburst was quelled by a stern look. “What did you find? Can you tell me that, Lewis?” This from Susan.

Lewis looked to the female detective. He had a dreamy look in his eyes. “Soft. Like a moosie’s nest,” he added lamely.

“Have you seen a girl’s private parts before, Lewis?” the DC enquired.

“Aye.” The boy’s voice was indignant. “Ah seen them on the internet. Bit they wur nae like…” He broke off sharply.

“Lew-is!” Morag Mchardy again. “Anything else?” Brian came back in. “I mean did you do anything after you’d had a look?” Vigorously, Lewis shook his head.

“All right,” Brian scribbled further notes. “We can come back to that later. What I want you tell me now, Lewis, is whether Lucy had a mobile phone.” “Aye. It wis in her jacket pocket.”

“Where is it now – Lucy’s phone? Did you take it?” “Nick it, d’ye mean?” Lewis scratched his head. “Naw. Ah pit it somewhere safe.”

Intervened

Bingo! Brian leaned forward. “And where would that be?”

Lewis cast him a vacant look. “Dunno.” “Lew-is,” Morag Mchardy again.

The lad whirled to face his mother. “Ye telt me no tae leave stuff like that lyin’ aroon’.”

“All right,” Burnett intervened. “We’ll return to that. So to recap, Lewis, you went back to the kirkyard. You had a look at Lucy’s privates. Did you do anything else? Before you left Lucy, that is.”

“Ah laid the lassie oot. That’s whit ye dae wi’ deid folk. Richt, Mum?”

Lewis looked to his mother for approval. Morag Mchardy turned her face away.

“That’s whit they did tae ma gran. Afore they took her to the crem,” Lewis addressed Brian.

“So you laid the girl out, you say? How did you do that, Lewis?”

“Stretched oot her arms and legs. Nice an’ tidy, like.”

“As if she was sleeping?”

“Naw. Like a cross.”

“A cross?” Brian pounced on the word.

“Nae a straight up an’ doon cross. It wis a X-shape ah wis meanin’.” His face lit up. “We got that in Sunday School – how Andrew wis a friend o’ Jesus, an’ he…”

“Button it.” Morag Mchardy rolled her eyes.

More on Monday.