‘Wendel’s a right pain to work with,’ Bethany said firmly. ‘I’m so glad I’m not with you lot. He’s horrible, and he doesn’t even try to help anyone once they leave. How many people have actually worked with him after they graduate?’
Bethany paused, as though waiting for an answer. Megan shrugged.
‘It’s not easy to get anything’ she replied at last. ‘There’s so much competition –’
‘Some people manage. It helps if you’re well connected, of course.’
The conversation naturally drifted on to Anna and her sudden death, the circumstances of which had been playing on Megan’s mind ever since the police had begun to show an interest in Dirk.
‘Yes, I know Anna’s dead,’ Bethany interrupted Megan. ‘It’s so sad. But look what Piers did for her before she died.’
‘Screwing her, you mean?’
‘No, I mean landing her a role in Down and Out. How awesome is that?’
Bethany’s face lit up as she mentioned the show.
‘So are you going after him yourself now?’
‘Piers doesn’t like girls who throw themselves at him,’ Bethany responded primly. ‘In any case, you know what they’re saying about him.’
She lowered her voice. Instinctively, Megan leaned forward so she could hear.
‘They’re saying he’s been arrested.’
‘Who? Piers?’
‘Yes, Piers. Who else? That’s who we’re talking about.’
Bethany glanced round the room. Satisfied no one was sitting close enough to eavesdrop, she continued in hushed tones.
‘They’re saying he’s been arrested for murder!’
‘Murder?’
‘Shh. Keep it down. They think he murdered Anna!’
‘Who does?’
‘The police.’
‘How do you know?’
Bethany shrugged and waved one ringed hand in the air.
‘People, you know. It’s what everyone’s saying.’
‘I thought it was a car accident.’
‘Yes, but they’re saying Piers deliberately drove her off the road. Of course Piers says he’s not bothered.’
‘Do you think he did it?’
‘I don’t know. But I made sure I got something out of it, just in case.’
Megan was silent, registering the familiar way Bethany referred to the casting director, and how she claimed to know what he liked. A rumour had been going around the college that Bethany had been seeing Piers while he was still living with Anna. Megan suspected it might be true. If it was, she hoped Anna hadn’t known about it, and that her death had at least spared her that humiliation.
‘Anyway, at least you’re free of her now,’ Bethany added cryptically.
‘What do you mean, I’m free of her?’
Bethany gave a dismissive shrug.
‘Oh come on, don’t act all innocent. You must have known what was going on between them. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know about it.’
Megan didn’t answer. She had known all along that Anna had continued screwing Dirk after she had moved in with Piers. It wasn’t hard to work out why. Piers was in a position to introduce her to influential contacts, leading to parts that otherwise she would only have been able to dream about. How else would she have landed a lead in a popular television soap, straight out of drama school? Piers wasn’t unattractive, but he was old. Dirk could do nothing to further her career, but any woman would be happy to get her hands on him. Beautiful Anna had decided to have her cake and eat it and, for a while, she had managed it.
‘If Piers had discovered she was having an affair, he would have thrown her out, and serve her right,’ Megan said, trying to mask the bitterness she was feeling. ‘He wouldn’t have killed her. Honestly, the lies and gossip that fly around this place would keep the tabloids busy all year.’
‘Don’t knock the tabloids. They’re on our side, mostly. And I’m not lying,’ Bethany retorted. ‘I thought you knew.’
‘I know Dirk wouldn’t have gone on seeing Anna once she moved in with Piers, and even she wouldn’t have been crazy enough to risk her career like that. It’s just bullshit.’
‘I’m only saying –’
‘Spreading rumours about other people. You’ve got no reason to assume they were still carrying on. It’s all lies.’
Megan hoped she wasn’t trying too hard to pretend she had been oblivious to Dirk’s affair with Anna.
‘No it’s not. And anyway, Piers didn’t give a monkey’s.’
‘What do you mean?’
Bethany gave a smug smile.
‘He didn’t exactly believe in monogamy.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Pillow talk.’
Megan frowned, not sure if she understood correctly.
‘You mean – you and Piers – ?’
Bethany tapped the side of her cute nose and winked.
‘Guess who’s got an audition for Down and Out next Wednesday?’
‘I don’t believe it! Shagging that decrepit old geezer to get an audition. You’re shameless!’
Bethany laughed.
‘I hope so,’ she replied, ‘I do hope so! But honestly, Megan,’ she went on, suddenly serious, ‘you must have known Dirk and Anna were still seeing each other?’
Her tone suggested she thought Megan must have been an idiot if she hadn’t seen what was going on. Megan turned away and took a gulp of her drink. She didn’t trust herself to speak calmly. One thing was for sure. That bitch Anna wouldn’t be bothering Dirk again. Megan smiled grimly and took a gulp of her beer – a silent toast to eliminating any competition for Dirk’s attention.
Chapter 25
GERALDINE AND SAM WALKED along a wide path and down a short staircase that led to a terrace in front of an imposing house. The bell rang loudly and a buzzer sounded for Geraldine to announce herself. Before she could speak, the gleaming white front door flew open. Zak stood framed in the entrance, slender and willowy. Dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, there was something theatrical in his appearance. Geraldine wondered if Piers ever opened his own front door. A puzzled frown crossed Zak’s refined features, as though he recognised Geraldine but couldn’t place where they had met. The furrows on his brow deepened when she jogged his memory. At her side she was aware of Sam tensing as he grumbled audibly about a bad penny.
‘Is your father in?’
‘What if he is? What do you want with him?’
For answer, Geraldine took a step forward. After a second’s hesitation, Zak stepped aside. He looked sulky. Geraldine saw that his hands were trembling. He was scared. She recalled his reliance on his father to pay his rent, and no doubt his college fees. But more than his financial dependence was the emotional attachment of a young boy to his only parent. If Piers went to prison, at nineteen Zak would receive no support from social services. For the first time in his life he would be forced to cope on his own.
They followed Zak into a plush study where Piers was reclining in an armchair, a newspaper folded on his lap. He opened his eyes but didn’t stand up. Running an elegant hand through his grey hair, he asked whether they had made any progress with their investigation. Sam glanced at Geraldine, who began the standard announcement.
‘Piers Trevelyan, I’m arresting you –’
‘No!’
Zak sprang forward with an anguished cry. Like an actor in a Victorian melodrama he struck an aggressive pose, standing in front of his father with his arms crossed, glaring fiercely at Geraldine.
‘Leave my father alone! You will not take him!’
Geraldine looked away to stop herself smiling at his histrionics, while he launched into a tirade against the police in general, and Geraldine in particular. His voice rose to a screech.
‘Why are you hounding him? Can’t you see he’s grieving. Leave him in peace.’
Ignoring the young man, Geraldine stepped to one side so she could see the suspect who was sitting quietly in his chair, watching h
er, as she read him his rights.
‘This is ridiculous!’ Zak burst out. ‘My father never lifted a finger against Anna. Why would he? Look at him. He’s an old man.’
Piers reacted to that, scowling up at his son and growling, ‘Less of the old.’
The boy carried on, regardless. ‘He’s devastated about what happened to Anna. It wasn’t him. They were living together for Christ’s sake. He cared about her. He loved her. He would never have hurt her. Go away and talk to Anthony, and stop wasting your time harassing a helpless old man.’
Piers rose to his feet in one swift motion and sighed.
‘Put a sock in it, Zak.’
‘Anthony?’ Geraldine repeated. ‘Who’s Anthony?’
‘If anybody did her in, it was him,’ Zak insisted.
‘Did her in?’ his father echoed, wrinkling his nose as though he had just encountered a bad smell. ‘Really, Zak. What an expression!’
Not for the first time, Geraldine had the feeling she had stumbled onto a stage, or a film set.
‘Who’s Anthony?’ she asked again.
‘My son is referring to my next door neighbour, Anthony Garnett,’ Piers answered frostily. ‘There’s some history between us. But it has no bearing on Anna’s death.’
Geraldine turned back to Zak.
‘Why did you say your father’s neighbour might have wanted to harm Anna?’
Piers sat down again with a sigh, while Zak launched into a rambling account of a row between Anna and their neighbour. It had kicked off soon after she had moved in with Piers. There was enough off street parking outside the house for several cars, but when Piers left his car there Anna had preferred to park in the street.
‘Why?’ Geraldine asked.
‘She didn’t like driving in reverse. It’s true of a lot of women,’ Piers said dismissively.
One Sunday morning when Zak was visiting his father, he had witnessed an incensed Garnett run down his drive, gesticulating at Anna and yelling at her for parking her Porsche outside his house. When Anna had retorted that she had as much right as anyone else to park on a public highway, he had told her in no uncertain terms to park outside her own house, and had threatened to call the police. In response, Anna had jumped in her car and roared away without a backward glance.
After that, it seemed relations between the two households had deteriorated further.
‘Tell them, dad,’ Zak urged his father, ‘tell them everything.’
Piers explained that Garnett had made several angry phone calls to the police, complaining about noise, overgrown trees and other neighbourly issues. A couple of times a uniformed constable had shown up and gone through the motions of speaking to Piers, but nothing was ever done. The police weren’t interested, and the feud rumbled on unresolved. Geraldine listened patiently to Piers’ account of these hostilities.
‘We’ll look into it,’ she said when he finished.
Disputes between neighbours were commonplace. They rarely led to murder. But it might make sense of Anna being attacked while she was out driving in her Porsche, which seemed to be the focus of the neighbour’s fury.
With Piers back in the custody suite waiting for his brief, Geraldine and Sam discussed what Zak had told them. They agreed it was possible Garnett had been so overcome with rage that he had taken Piers’ van and rammed it into Anna, on a crazy impulse. He might have seen it as a way to get Piers into trouble, while he smashed up Anna’s Porsche. Geraldine asked Sam to look into the history of Garnett’s dispute with Anna, and check if he had form. If they discovered Garnett had ever been accused of any kind of violent assault, they might consider him a possible suspect.
‘Imagine if he’s been had up for attempted murder!’ Sam whispered. ‘This could be it, Geraldine. We could be on the point of wrapping it up.’
Geraldine smiled. Although it was sometimes misplaced, she appreciated her sergeant’s enthusiasm. She hoped fervently that Sam was right. Meanwhile, Piers was in the custody suite, and they had work to do.
Chapter 26
REG MILTON DECIDED TO interview Piers himself.
‘He’ll find it more difficult to stand up to a man.’
Geraldine doubted if Reg’s badgering style would intimidate this suspect. If anything, she suspected the director would have been more likely to let his guard down to a woman. Nevertheless, for once she was happy to finish her day’s work and leave on time. This was the first evening she had taken off in six days, and she was planning a quiet evening in, with a long soak in the bath followed by an early night or perhaps a film on the television. Sometimes it helped to take a short break when she was finding herself bogged down in an investigation. If she could empty her head of the suspects, she might be able to think more clearly in the morning. So she was irritated when her mobile rang shortly before she reached home.
Expecting to speak to Celia, she was pleasantly surprised to hear the voice of her former colleague, Ian Peterson. He invited her to meet up for a drink one evening, if she had time. There was something uncharacteristically strained in her old friend’s voice. On impulse, Geraldine said she was free that evening. If she had been at home in her slippers, she wouldn’t have considered going out again. As it was, she was still in the car and could easily turn round and head off to Kent. In light traffic she might get there in an hour and a half.
‘But I can’t get there for a couple of hours.’
‘Perfect!’
He sounded so pleased, she was swept along with his eagerness and agreed to meet him later on, without stopping to think how tired she was. A moment before, she had been desperate to get home and put her feet up. Now she was heading off to Kent for a drink. It was daft. After she hung up, she couldn’t believe she had agreed to drive all that way to see him. But she had said she would go, and she wouldn’t let him down.
They met in a quiet pub they used to frequent when they had worked together in the Kent constabulary. Ian was standing at the bar watching the door, as though uncertain whether she would turn up. His expression changed as soon as he saw her. His face broke into a grin. Geraldine had thought he had sounded strained on the phone, an impression borne out by his appearance. He looked older than when she had last seen him, and very tired. There were small pouches under his eyes, as though he hadn’t been sleeping, and his bulky shoulders drooped in the posture of an older man. She wondered if he had been ill as she returned his smile, and joined him at the bar. He ordered her a drink without pausing to ask her what she wanted. There was a comfort in such undemanding familiarity.
‘We’ll just make it a quick one,’ he said as they sat down, ‘or I’ll be in trouble.’
He laughed loudly.
Geraldine sat beside him. Close up, she was even more shocked than she had been on first catching sight of him from the door.
‘Are you keeping well?’ he asked, scrutinising her face in his turn. ‘How’s London treating you? Are they looking after you there?’
He barked a rapid series of questions. She understood he didn’t want to talk about himself.
‘Enough about me,’ she said at last. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m fine,’ he replied, although she could see that wasn’t true.
‘How’s married life?’
He shrugged and took a gulp of his pint before answering that it was fine. It would be insensitive to tell him she didn’t believe him.
‘But let’s not talk about me,’ he went on quickly. ‘You’re the one who’s getting on with your life and doing something exciting. Tell me all about London.’
There was a wistfulness in his expression that she couldn’t fail to notice.
She leaned towards him.
‘Ian, what’s wrong?’
‘Well, my new DI’s a shit.’
‘I’m a hard act to follow,’ she laughed.
He didn’t join in her laughter. Instead he glanced nervously at his watch.
‘I can’t stay long,’ he muttered, ‘or I’ll get it in the neck.�
�
Geraldine understood that Ian hadn’t told his wife about their meeting. Bev had been unnecessarily suspicious of the intimacy that had arisen between them when they had been working together. It wasn’t unusual for two officers on the same team to develop an instinctive mutual understanding. She watched him when he went back over to the bar for just one more pint, the way his head hung forwards.
‘How’s Bev?’ she asked directly when he returned with two beers.
His smile didn’t reach his tired eyes.
‘Bev’s great.’
She wondered if he realised she knew he was lying.
‘Ian, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
She didn’t press him, although he looked so miserable it was almost unbearable. When she had worked with him he had always been robustly cheerful. She was struck by a sudden impulse to comfort him, like a child, and pulled herself up sharply. He had probably just had a row with his wife. Whatever the reason for his miserable mood, it was none of her business, unless he chose to share it with her.
They talked about London, and life back in Kent, for a while, but she couldn’t help feeling concerned.
‘You know you can always talk to me – about anything you want. We are friends as well as ex-colleagues,’ she hazarded at last, unable to ignore his despondency any longer. She didn’t add that he was the closest friend she had.
He didn’t answer.
‘Have you got time for another one?’ she asked.
He looked at his watch and shook his head.
‘I’d better go.’
Hurriedly he gulped down the last of his pint and stood up.
‘We must do this again soon. It was really good to see you.’
He placed his hand on her shoulder for a second before he left. With an irrepressible pang she watched him slip away without a backward glance, hurrying back to his wife. After he had gone she sat quite still for a moment, remembering the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. It was a long time since a man had touched her.
At last she stood up, and set off on the long drive back to her empty flat.
Chapter 27
Fatal Act Page 12
