“George! I’m not going anywhere!” Paul shouted after him as George stomped away down the corridor, “George, I’ll wait for you…” but he had already gone through the double doors, slamming them against the wall so that the glass rattled.

 

“Shit,” Paul said aloud. The two desk sergeants on either side of him looked at him. Things had slowly, but steadily, been improving between George and him over the past few weeks, but obviously someone had rattled George again, and Paul could guess just who.

 

“Uh, the interview room’s this way, Mr. McCartney,” said the sergeant on Paul’s left.

 

Paul nodded and turned round, allowing them to lead him off again. Didn’t handle that very well, McCartney, Paul admonished himself. Perhaps I should have stayed at home. What if Pattie rings now? He looked at his watch. She’d said she’d ring at teatime, but he would probably still be at the police station.

 

Paul cleared his throat, “Has Mr. Archer been questioned?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

 

“Mr Archer?” asked one of the policemen.

 

“Yes, Michael Archer? My… our manager?” That word left a bad taste.

 

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

 

“Oh, I suppose not,” Paul said disappointed.

 

They reached a door with a number 7 stencilled on it. The constable knocked and opened the door. “Scuse me, sir, Paul McCartney’s here to see you.”

 

A tall blonde man sat on the table. To the left was a younger dark haired man. They looked up. The blonde man frowned, “We didn’t send for Paul McCartney,” he said, talking as if Paul wasn’t standing in front of him.

 

“I know sir, he’s come to make a statement. I thought it would be best if you heard it.”

 

“Can’t someone else…”

 

“We’ve got to wait for Harrison anyway,” the younger man said, then acknowledging Paul gestured to the chair, “Take a seat, Mr McCartney.”

 

Paul sat down.

 

“It took two of you to bring him, did it?” the blonde man said testily to the two sergeants. They quickly disappeared. The detective closed the door on them. “How lucky we are, Detective Myles,” he said, taking the chair opposite Paul, “Two pop stars in one day!”

 

Detective Myles, the younger man, held his hand out to Paul, “I’m DC David Myles,” he said, as Paul shook his hand, “This is DC John Dennis. You have something you want to say?”

 

“Yes,” Paul said, decisively. “I want to make a statement.”

 

“Right,” Myles said.

 

“Yes,” Paul said again.

 

“Go on then,” Dennis said.

 

“Aren’t you going to write it down or somethin’?” Paul asked.

 

“When you’ve said something, yes,” Dennis said.

 

“Oh. Right, okay,” Paul said, trying to put what he actually did want to say in his mind in some sort of order, “Well, George, he didn’t kill that girl, Grace. He couldn’t have done.”

 

“You seem very sure, sir?” said Myles.

 

“I am,” Paul said earnestly. “I know he didn’t. There’s no question.”

 

“And how do you know this then?”

 

“Because I know George. I’ve known him years and years. Since we were kids. He’s not capable of murdering someone, even someone like that poisonous… she-devil!”

 

“Miss Burgess?”

 

“Erm, yes, Miss Burgess.”

 

“Are you claiming to be Mr Harrison’s alibi?”

 

“Alibi?”

 

“Yes. Were you with him last night?”

 

“Uh, no. I didn’t see him…”

 

“Or Miss Burgess?”

 

“No, not last night. I saw her in the morning yesterday. She wouldn’t come near me on her own, anyway. Not now. She knows I would…”

 

“Sir, do I take it you weren’t a friend of the deceased?”

 

“No, I wasn’t,” Paul said quietly. He kept forgetting she was dead, as ludicrous as that was. Still, he didn’t like her when she was alive, why should he change his opinion just because she had died?

 

“So where were you last night then sir?” Dennis asked, leaning across the table at Paul.

 

Paul looked at him and then Myles and sat back, folding his arms. “I was at home,” he said, “All night. Saint John’s Wood.”

 

“Mmm-hmm. And you have people to corroborate that?”

 

“Yes. Look, I didn’t like her but I didn’t want to kill her,” he said firmly.

 

“What did you want, Mr McCartney?” Dennis asked.

 

Paul didn’t answer.

 

“Who?” asked Myles.

 

“Who?” Paul repeated.

 

“Who can corroborate that you were at home? Just so we can eliminate you from our enquiries.”

 

“John and Ringo. They were there most of the night.”

 

“What time? Roughly?”

 

“I don’t know. Half eight til about midnight.”

 

“And after that you were alone?”

 

“No. Pattie came round at about half eleven. She stayed til about two and then I went to bed.”

 

“What were you doing?”

 

Paul frowned, “We were talking.”

 

“You and Pattie Boyd?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What about?”

 

“George and Grace mostly. She was upset.”

 

“About George and Grace?”

 

“Yes. But…” Paul hesitated, this wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, “There was a bit of a scene with John and Ringo too,” he said eventually.

 

Dennis smiled and leaned back, “A scene?”

 

“That’s what I said isn’t it?”

 

“Do you want to tell us what it was about?”

 

“John was drunk. I think Ringo was too. Things just got out of hand.”

 

“Is that what you had been doing with John and Ringo? Drinking?”

 

“No, not really. We were mostly arguing.”

 

“Arguing?”

 

Paul could see the delight in Dennis’ eyes. Should have stayed at home, McCartney, he thought.  “Last night is not what I came here to talk about,” he said forcefully.

 

“Then what is it, sir? We do have things to do, you know. Murders to solve, that kind of thing.”

 

Cheeky bastard, Paul thought, but held his tongue and gave the detective his prize-winning smile. “I want to set the record straight about Pattie and I.”

 

“Ah yes,” Dennis said, winding Paul up a little more.

 

“We already know about Miss Boyd,” Myles said, “She was living with Mr Harrison, and then started an affair with you. You backed out of it when it came to the crunch though and stayed with your own girlfriend, Jane Asher.”

 

“Although, evidently, Miss Boyd did stay the night with you last night,” Dennis added, “Where was Jane?”

 

“She’s away,” Paul said hastily, “No, that’s not right at all. There was never anything between me and Pattie. It was all lies.”

 

“Lies?” Myles asked.

 

“Yes, that bitch, Grace, she made the whole thing up. She told George that Pattie was cheating on him, then she told him that she’d found out it was with me.”

 

“And that wasn’t true?”

 

“No!” Paul banged his fist down on the table.

 

“Calm down, Mr McCartney,” Dennis warned.

 

Paul ignored him, staring at Myles intently, “When I went to see her yesterday, she as good as confessed the whole thing to me. ”

 

“The day before she died? Very convenient Mr McCartney.”

 

“Hardly. I knew she wanted George for something. I told her if she didn’t come clean and fuck off, sorry, leave, then I would tell him and call the police.”

 

“What did she want George for?” Myles asked.

 

Paul chewed his bottom lip, “Well, I don’t exactly know… but when I spoke to her, when I threatened her, she thought I knew so she said she was going to tell George.”

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Dennis said, sitting back, studying his scrawled notes. “You went to see Miss Burgess yesterday morning. You told her you knew what she was ‘up to’, and you would tell George and the police if she didn’t leave George.”

 

“Um, yeah.”

 

“So why didn’t you contact the police if you thought Miss Burgess was – what? A danger to Mr Harrison?”

 

Paul ran his hand through his fringe, realising his forehead was covered in sweat. “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps I should have, but I didn’t know exactly what it was she was doing. What could I have reported?”

 

The policeman sighed and looked at his partner. “Well, what was Miss Burgess’ reaction? She believed you?”

 

“Yeah, she was scared. She said not to tell George. That she would.”

 

“And you thought she would?”

 

“I think so.  She said we should let George… choose.”

 

“Between what?”

 

“Grace said he loved her, and even when she told him the truth he would still want her.”

 

“And what is the truth?” Dennis said, almost rhetorically.

 

“I… I’m not sure,” Paul said, getting the feeling he was worsening the situation.

 

“So, say she did confess all this to George – that she made up this affair between you and Pattie Boyd. How do you think Harrison would react?”

 

“How do you think?” Paul said. “He’d be livid. He loved Pattie, I know he did, you could tell.”

 

The detectives exchanged glances. “And you’re sure Grace was going to tell George all this?” Myles asked slowly.

 

“Absolutely,” Paul said, regaining his confidence. “I made absolutely sure of it.”