by Zach Abrams
“Well, it's hardly surprising you've been having nightmares with so much on your mind.”
Alex smiled, ruefully.
“If you'll excuse me trying to teach my granny how to suck eggs, I'd suggest you take a deeper look at Sheila and Graeme's relationship. The accumulated impact of Bannister's statement about her being disliked, with the implication of it being more by women, together with what Burton said about the attempted seduction, gives rise to all sorts of possibilities. Was Sheila having an affair? Was Graeme for that matter? Or did they have an open relationship.”
“Fair point,” Alex replied. “Murder almost always comes as a result of greed, jealousy or revenge and invariably the root cause is either money or sex.”
“Okay, now we've put the world to right and we don't need to be out for another hour. Do you want to grab some more shut-eye?” Sandra asked.
“Thanks, no. I'm wide awake now and I'm rested. If I were to sleep again now I'd either not be able to get up or I'd be groggy all day. I'll refill the tea and you can give me your thoughts about telling anyone our news,” Alex added.
“It's too soon, Alex. First things first. I want to make an appointment with my G.P. to confirm everything's alright. Up to now, the only thing I'm certain of is that the pregnancy test showed positive. In the meantime, I'm not going to drink alcohol and I'll try to be more careful with my diet. Once we know for sure and we've worked out our immediate plans, then I'd like us to tell my family and, of course, yours. After that, we'll need to advise our bosses and our teams.”
“Have you thought any more about what I asked you?” Alex asked.
“What was that?”
Alex took Sandra's hand then theatrically knelt on one knee but almost immediately his face contorted in pain.
“What's wrong?” Sandra asked, helping him back to his feet.
“I hadn't noticed one of Jake's toys was lying on the floor. I must have forgotten to take it back with him last time I had him here. Bloody dog's spoiled my romantic moment. Now what I was trying to ask was, 'Will you marry me?' ”
They both looked at each other – Alex dressed in pyjama shorts, Sandra wearing a midi nightie and both wrapped in towelling robes – then burst into fits of giggles.
“You sure know the way to make a woman happy,” Sandra blurted between guffaws.
“Does that mean yes?” Alex questioned.
“No, I didn't mean me. I was talking about my mum. It would make her dreams come true to see me married. It was the last ambition she wanted to achieve before she reached retirement age, having all her children wed. Besides, she approves of you, probably quite fancies you herself, truth be told.”
“I doubt it, but even so, I'm less sure about your dad,” Alex replied.
“No, he definitely doesn't fancy you. You're not his type.” Sandra countered.
“I meant…”
“I know what you meant. I'm sure Dad quite likes you, but to him I'll always be his little girl, and for that reason he wouldn't be completely happy with anyone. It concerns him that you're a few years older than me, but otherwise he approves, as much as he could ever do at least.”
“And you?” Alex pursued.
“You need to ask? I love you, Alex. I'm carrying your baby. What more proof do you want?”
“You haven't answered. Will you be my wife?”
“Alex, I love you and I'm flattered you've asked, but I'm really not sure about marriage. Let's not rush into anything and do something just because I'm pregnant. If we are going to get married, then I want it to be for the right reasons. Not as a result of the pregnancy and not only to please my parents. It needs to be because it's right for us and for our child and most of all because it's something we both want.”
“Okay, I won't rush you. You're right, the subject only came up because of the baby. But that doesn't mean I don't love you, or that I want to be with you any the less. I ought to have asked you before, but I needed this catalyst to wake me up. Anyway, there's no pressure, we can take it a bit slower. We'll leave the matter open.”
Chapter 6
Sanjay was already at his desk poring over reports when Alex entered the office. Despite his Asian complexion, his face appeared pale, making the dark rings around his eyes more pronounced. This was further accentuated by the white surrounding his deep brown irises appearing badly bloodshot. His jowls were heavy, giving the effect of his face lacking definition.
“You look like shit. Are you okay? And once you've explained your condition, can you fill me in on what's happening?” Alex enquired before allowing Sanjay to get a word in.
“Yeah, I'm fine, Boss. A bit tired though. We stayed late last night so we could take preliminary statements from everyone; the techies finished up too. It means the school can get back to normal today. Well, as normal as possible under the circumstances. I didn't get away until after one in the morning by the time I'd collected and collated all the reports. I've been in here since six, checking everything through.”
“I've no doubt that you've been doing a first-rate job, but we'll need to train you to delegate more,” Alex suggested.
“I guess you're right, but this is the first major enquiry where I've had as much responsibility. I wanted to make sure I had everything under control,” Sanjay stated.
“I understand and approve of your sentiment, but it will all count for nothing if you burn yourself out.”
“Thanks, Boss. I'll remember that, but for the record, can I repeat it back to you when you do the same thing?”
“Certainly not,” Alex replied, smiling. “I go by the traditional leadership rule of 'do what I say, not what I do.' Anyhow, what do you have for all this effort?”
“You mean besides a headache and the first symptoms of an ulcer?”
“Of course, but keep your medical symptoms to yourself.”
The banter out of the way, Sanjay became very business-like. He stood, straightened his tie then leafed through his papers and handed a sheet to Alex.
“This is the list showing all the Club's members. It also shows everyone else known to be in the vicinity of the stage, at any time, on the morning before the incident, through until after it had taken place.
“The ones highlighted in yellow were on or near the stage at the time of the murder. The pink ones were in the general area. The blues are members of the Club who weren't in attendance and the green ones are non-Club members who were or had been near the stage. Then the non-highlighted names are ones we've been told about during the interviews. They're people who, at first, don't appear to have a direct link to what happened, but nevertheless sounded of interest and worth talking to.”
“Very methodical. Well, who's been spoken to?”
“All the Yellows were interviewed yesterday, with the exception of Bert Singer. He's been kept in hospital under observation and we've not been permitted access yet, but hopefully this morning.”
“I'd like to sit in on that,” Alex stated.
“I expected you would. I've placed a call to his ward. They said they'd call back in the next half hour. We've taken initial statements from all the Pinks, but I'd like to follow up with a few of them. I think we've seen all the Greens we're aware of, but I've still to check. We've yet to talk to any of the Blues or the last, unmarked, list.”
“I see you've Brian Phelps listed as a Green; he won't like that.”
“Sorry, Sir, I don't understand. Why not? He falls into that category.”
“He's a Rangers fan. A real blue-nose if ever I saw one.”
It took Sanjay a moment to follow Alex's quip but then his face became creased by a broad smile. “I take your point. It hadn't occurred to me before. I've never been much of a football fan. I don't understand how fanatical folk can become about a bunch of lads chasing a ball around a field.”
“Careful what you say here. Although not as obsessive as some, I'm one of these fanatics and I support Rangers too, well what's left of them. That's why I can appreciate Brian's l
ikely reaction.”
“I'll bow to your superior knowledge in that case,” Sanjay replied, simultaneously enacting the gesture.
“What's planned next?”
“My first priority is to talk to Bert. I'll wait to hear from the hospital before scheduling anything else for myself, but I've planned interviews with the other Club members. Phil, Steve, Mary and Donny will handle those as well as the follow-ups. They'll also take statements from the family and neighbours.”
“It seems you've got it all covered, except, what about a follow-up with the husband?”
“You're right. Yesterday's reaction was anything but typical. Now a bit of time has elapsed, he'll have been able to absorb the news and we can go and talk to him after Bert if you'd like.”
As if on cue, Sanjay's phone rang.
“Sergeant Guptar. Yes, that's correct. Ah, good, I'm pleased he's more settled. Aha, it shouldn't take too long and yes, I'll be able to put his mind at ease. No, we won't be rushing to arrest him. We know he was the one who held the knife when Sheila Armstrong was stabbed. But we've every reason to suspect he was the instrument of death, not the cause. Thank you, we can be there in thirty minutes.”
Sanjay replaced the receiver.
“You don't need to explain. I picked up enough from hearing your end. Let's get going. It's not too far to the Vicky and we'll be travelling against the flow of traffic. I presume it was the Victoria he was taken to?”
“Yes, Sir. He was taken to A&E, yesterday. At first, they were treating him for shock but he was showing irregular heart rhythms and he has a history. They've kept him under observation in the C.C.U. He had a restful night and this morning he's been moved to a regular ward.”
* * *
When Alex opened the passenger door of Sanjay's Renault Megane, he had to clear the baby carrier and other assorted accoutrements into the back before being able to lower his large muscular frame onto the seat. There wasn't very much room in the back either with a cricket bat propped between the baby seat and two booster cushions.
He looked back pensively at the array of accessories, remembering his own experiences when his boys had been younger. It made him acutely aware of what lay ahead resulting from Sandra's news.
Misinterpreting his reaction as a mild rebuke, Sanjay started to explain, “Sorry, Sir. My wife had the car yesterday and I've not had the opportunity to clear it out. You'll have forgotten what it's like travelling with youngsters.”
Alex smiled, battling an irresistible urge to share his news with Sanjay, yet knowing it was too soon.
“Not something you ever forget,” he settled for.
The aggregation of traffic approaching the city neared gridlock. However, the road south was quiet and provided an unimpeded passage, other than the inevitable succession of red traffic lights. Shortly after crossing the Jamaica Street Bridge, Alex's eyes strayed left beyond the elegant red sandstone terraces of Carlton Place towards the modern block structure of the Sheriff Court. It occurred to him Sandra would no doubt be close-by, enmeshed in her enquiry.
Continuing along Bridge Street, they travelled beyond the subway station and Alex noted a queue had already formed outside the O2 venue waiting for the ticket office to open. On closer examination, he realised some were carrying sleeping bags and had obviously been waiting overnight. He glanced up but was too late to catch the details of who was going to be performing. He reminisced the many concerts he'd attended over the years at the venue in its previous incarnations as the Bedford, Greens and the Academy before reaching its current designation.
“Did you see who was playing?” he asked Sanjay.
“Sorry, Boss. I was watching the road.”
“I've spent many a good night in there and in some of Glasgow's other famous gig venues: the Barrowlands, King Tut's and the Apollo. Over the years there can't be a band which hasn't played in at least one of them. A band that's worth listening too, that is.”
“A lot of changes now though,” Sanjay said. “Who's to say whether any will survive? I can't even remember the Apollo, it closed years ago. Isn't that the site where the Cineworld multiplex is now?”
“Yeah. That's right. It went from being the biggest concert venue in the country to the tallest cinema.”
“Anyway,” Sanjay continued, “now there's now all these new places with much better acoustics. The Hydro, the Armadillo and the Concert Hall are all state of the art and the Hydro's enormous.”
“That may be the case, but none of them can ever match the atmosphere.”
“And that's a bad thing?” Sanjay asked. “In the old days, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife and it wouldn't be so bad if that was the only thing that got cut.”
“Maybe,” Alex smiled. “Perhaps I'm just being nostalgic.”
Sanjay thought it best not to comment and they continued driving in silence with Alex pensive, remembering times past.
Arriving at the Victoria, Sanjay drove around the complex for some time, unable to locate suitable parking. Eventually he gave up and crossed Battlefield Road to find a space in the underground car park of the new hospital. Having lost several minutes seeking a space, they left Sanjay's car abandoned rather than parked to avoid wasting further time.
They exited the car, crossed back over to the old sandstone fronted building and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Although exhaustive efforts had been made to maintain the property and keep it clean, any major investment had been reserved for the new Southern General, earmarked as the hospital for the whole of the south of the city. The new Victoria was planned predominantly as a facility for outpatients. Time had taken its toll on the old building and the deterioration was evident.
Their heavy footsteps echoed as they proceeded along the corridor.
“Much as the new Southern looks incredible, the South-Side will sorely miss this place,” Alex said.
“You're right there, Sir. Can you imagine having an emergency and needing to travel all the way to Govan to get to an A&E?”
“Yeah, even when the roads are quiet, it will take fifteen minutes, but in the rush hour you could double or even triple that.”
“Too true and worse still, if you have an emergency on match day and there's a game on at Ibrox. They'd be no point calling an ambulance, you'd be as well to save time and bring in a hearse instead,” Sanjay joked.
“We're in here,” Alex advised, turning off the main corridor.
Within moments they'd located the nurse's station. Alex displayed his credentials and was shown towards a small private room overlooking the side of the building. A feeble looking man dressed in striped winceyette pyjamas was sitting on the bed which was angled upwards, his posture supported by pillows.
“Good morning, Mr. Singer. I'm DCI Alex Warren and this is Sergeant Sanjay Guptar.”
“I've been expecting you,” Bert answered and held out his arms as if waiting for handcuffs to be applied.
“Please relax. We haven't come to arrest you. We're here to take your statement,” Alex reassured.
“I still can't believe what happened. It's my fault. I should have been more careful,” Bert offered, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Let's take this one step at a time, shall we?” Sanjay asked.
Alex took several minutes checking Bert's details and asking mundane background questions, allowing him to settle before addressing the key issues.
“Had you handled the knife prior to the incident?” he enquired.
“Incident is a very mild way of describing it,” Bert started. “Yes, the two knives were brought to the last Club meeting. I was particularly interested as it was my character in the play who'd be using them. I closely inspected them and played about with the trigger mechanism so I'd feel comfortable handling it. Sheila and I also had a bit of a rehearsal for the murder scene. She thought I was being too gentle and told me to be more forceful when I lunged with the knife. If only I hadn't listened…”
“Let's go back a bit. How well did you know
Sheila?”
“She was a wonderful person. We go back a long way, it must be more than ten years. She and Graeme are very good friends of mine. They were very supportive when my Rachel passed away. I don't think I could have coped without them. She's a lovely lady, very pretty and very talented. She's a published author, you know, and she took time to help and encourage the rest of us in the group.”
“Yes, we've heard,” Sanjay interrupted. “Please run us through what actually happened from the time you lifted the knife.”
“I walked over to the sideboard, as directed in the script. I lifted the knife from the box and I did check it was the right one. The one with a notch on the hilt. I turned to face her and waited for her to walk towards me. Right on cue, when she said, 'get out,' I lunged forward to stab her in the stomach, just below the sternum. I did it quickly and with power, the way Sheila said I should. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the stage. It looked very realistic and blood started to flow. I was marvelling at how well she'd acted and wondered how she'd produced the blood. I thought it looked very real and then I realised it was.” Bert raised his hands to cover his face. “It was awful.”
Following a lengthy pause, he added, “I don't remember anything after that.”
“How about before?” Sanjay enquired. “Did you see anybody milling around who didn't belong to your group?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“What about teachers and school staff, pupils even,” Alex prompted.
“There were definitely no pupils. I remember one of the staff brought us a trolley with tea and biscuits. I remember because we all considered it unusually kind.”
“Can you remember who? Can you give us a name or description?” Sanjay's attention perked up.
