by Keith Dixon
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
NOW I WAS CONFUSED. No one else had mentioned that Rory was seeing someone—but of course there was no need for anyone else to have known. Brand probably ruled his private life with the same ruthless hand with which he ruled the public one. But did Tara know, or suspect? Were they playing out some bizarre ritual, where he accused her of trying to steal his company and she had him murdered?
It sounded needlessly melodramatic—but then the newspapers were full of melodrama being acted out in every suburb.
Ever since Derek Evans had told me that Rory Brand had fired Eddie Hampshire, I’d been trying to get through to him. But his phone was either engaged or left on answerphone. After I met Andy Braithwaite I tried again from the service station, got no reply, and drove back to Crewe. I had just climbed out of my car and was walking towards my office when my mobile rang. Hampshire was driving and talking very loudly into his hands-free set, over the rush of wind and traffic.
‘Can you talk?’ he said. “I’ve got a free moment.’
I thanked him for returning my call. He said he was sorry for not seeing me in person, but given that he was working as an independent now, he had to keep up his client contacts. I was surprised that he was happy for me to know he didn’t work for Brands any more. His voice was confident and even over the phone was as large as I remembered him in the flesh.
‘I’m told you and Rory didn’t see eye to eye,’ I said. ‘Was that why he sacked you?’
‘Good God,’ he said. ‘Don’t be such a tosspot. That was a misunderstanding.’
‘Care to straighten it out?’
‘Why bother?’ Hampshire roared into the phone. ‘As a matter of fact, I was looking for an excuse to leave. Deliberately over-reacted to some feedback he gave me, so I could look noble when I left. He was within his rights, absolutely.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That’s rather close to home. I don’t talk about private stuff, Dyke.’
‘Rory’s death was close to home, too.’
‘OK, I hear you. Well it was the Personal Development review we had every year. A chat when Rory would tell you what he really thought of you, and pretend he was giving you honest and unbiased feedback. Never got any himself, though. Not part of the deal. Anyway, he said that a client had objected to my behaviour. Said that I’d behaved in an ‘inappropriately macho’ way when I’d been working with these tosspots in a hotel in Wales. I mean to say, it was a storm in a tea cup. Are you there?’
‘Yes, I can hear you.’
‘Thought I’d lost the signal. These bloody hills. Anyway, these sods worked in a paper mill or something. We’d worked all morning in the grounds of this hotel, doing abseiling or potholing or some such, then we came in to eat at midday. These bastards just headed for the bar and we couldn’t get them out. Never ate a thing but drank a good lunch. So I issued a couple of gentle threats and they came back in quick sharp. But they weren’t happy and one complained—hence the feedback from Rory. I told him he was a stupid tosspot and how I dealt with delegates was my business. Didn’t like that, did he. Didn’t like his authority questioned.’
‘Does anybody?’
Hampshire barely paused to think about his reply. ‘There’s something you need to know about consultants, Dyke. We’re pretty damned confident people. We have to be. There are sods out there just waiting to have a go at you if you say something they don’t agree with. This isn’t a game for kids. You need balls and a hide of leather. Hold on, just coming to a roundabout. Need to concentrate.’ The line went quiet for a moment. ‘That’s better. Where was I? Oh yes, consultants. I don’t know what you know about this game, but we’re a weird bunch. Got to be to enjoy the fight. Every day trying to persuade people that they’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Life isn’t as easy as they think it is. They’ve got to try harder. Some people can’t take it, and they bite back. Anyway, Rory and me have this set-to. And there we are for a couple of weeks, with him making it harder and harder for me.’
‘How did he do that?’
‘Subtle things. Attitude mostly. He loses the smile. He gives you the dead-eye stare when you’re talking to him, and then when he says something it’s got a little bite in it. Well I can take that, I’m a big boy.’
‘I’m told he had you testing the software.’
‘Waste of time that was. Didn’t work properly and looked like one more nail in the proverbial coffin, for me. But I was past caring by then. I’d decided I wanted to leave. So I took umbrage and played the drama queen. Resigned in high dudgeon. Handed in my swipe card and company mobile. If I’d been really serious I’d have claimed constructive dismissal, because he was making it pretty bloody hard by then.’
‘Surely he was the same with everyone,’ I said.
‘You don’t get it, Dyke. He had a killer instinct. He was famous for it. Couldn’t help himself. Spotted a flaw in a person and went for it like a terrier.’
‘So who might have killed him?’
‘Haven’t a clue. Did he have any secrets? Gambling or women? Maybe he owed big money to someone. He always seemed stressed to me, but that could have been anything.’
The air was silent between us. I felt as though Hampshire had an answer for everything, like a champion swordsman parrying every thrust with an idle flick of his hand. I said, ‘Where were you when you found out he’d been murdered?’
He laughed. ‘Ah, the sixty-four-thousand dollar question. Rest easy, I was in London.’
‘Who told you he’d been murdered?’
‘I had a phone call from Betty. I think she phoned everyone. Strange, isn’t it? Knowing there’s someone out there with a grudge against you bad enough to excite them to murder. I guess we’re all supposed to be careful now, until they find this guy. And in case you think I have a motive for doing anything silly, I should tell you I was supposed to see Rory this week anyway. We were going to discuss my doing some associate work for him. So he can’t have thought that badly of me after all.’
The phone in my hand went dead. I assumed he’d found some more hills to go behind.
