Dead Beat

by Val McDermid

  Right according to plan, he connected his computer to the telephone system. He had an autologon program, which only revealed his mailbox number, not his ID and passwords. But that was probably enough for what I had in mind. I memorised the eight digit number, ran a routine quickly by him, then exited from the link. 'If you're interested, I'll come over one afternoon after all this is finished and show you how to do it for yourself,' I offered.

  He gave me a sly grin. 'Be my guest. Maybe I can do you a trade. I'm sure there's one or two things I could teach you.'

  How to slide under a stone without disturbing it, perhaps, I thought. Time for a bit of hardball, I decided. 'Neil? How did you hear about the way Moira was killed?'

  He shifted in his seat. 'Why do you want to know?' he asked.

  'I'm just checking with everyone. Routine. I'm not very accustomed to investigating murder, and there were one or two things I forgot to ask last time around.'

  'Obviously, I was dying to find out exactly what had happened, but the cops told us not to talk about it while they had us cooped up in that bloody blue drawing room. Besides, the only person who seemed to know what was going on was Jett. Anyway, after the police told us we could go to bed, I collared Kevin. I told him the best way to control any bad publicity was for me to handle all the stories. I know, I know, it's earned me a few bob, but why not? Anyway, I asked him for the details, and he told me she'd been battered to death in the rehearsal room with a tenor sax.' He smiled disarmingly. I wondered if he knew he'd just given me the last brick in my case.

  28

  Cracking a case is a unique feeling, a mixture of relief, self-congratulation and a curious sense of deflation. I felt all that and more at Neil's words, and I struggled not to show him any of it. Until the net was ready to close round Kevin, I didn't want anyone to know how much I had on him. I searched my mind for another question to ask Neil, so his last reply wouldn't stick in his mind as the thing that had sent me haring off. 'Have you told Jett about the abortion yet?' I hazarded.

  He froze, and a mottled flush spread up from his neck. 'A-abortion,' he stuttered.

  I'd got him. Time for the major league bluff. “I know all about it, Neil. And I know you know. I just wondered if you'd told Jett yet.'

  He shook his head. 'I don't know what you're on about, Kate, I swear.'

  'You can't bullshit me, Neil. Either you co-operate with me, or I go straight to Jett and tell him you're planning to drop that little bombshell in the public domain just to make yourself a shilling.'

  'You're a hard-faced bitch,' he complained, his face the picture of petulance.

  'Yeah, but I'm good at it. Now talk. When did you find out about the abortion?'

  'A few days before Moira died,' he admitted sulkily.

  'Just as a matter of interest, how did you find out?'

  'I ran a financial check on her, then I rang the clinic pretending to be Moira's accountant, saying she was now in a position to settle the outstanding amount, and could they send the account to me. I confirmed it was for a termination, and gave them a fake address to send it on to.' He couldn't help himself. He looked smug as a Cheshire Conservative.

  'So how did you plan to use the information?' I asked.

  He shrugged. 'I thought about telling Jett, but it didn't seem like a good idea when he and Moira were working so closely together. He's not exactly what you'd call a New Man when it comes to abortion and working wives, is he? It would have caused an almighty row, and God knows what would have happened. I decided to hang on and see what happened after the album was finished.'

  'You mean you were going to wait till the book came out, then sell it separately, and to hell with the damage it caused?'

  His angry look told me I'd hit the nail right on the head. But he wasn't going to admit it. 'Of course not,' he said hotly. 'What do you take me for?'

  If I were American, I'd have pleaded the fifth. As it was, I just gave him my most contemptuous look and walked out.

  Two doors down the hall from Neil's office, I found the dining room. It looked as if it got about as much use as Richard's vacuum cleaner. I sat down on an antique balloon-backed chair and inserted a fresh tape in my recorder. I dictated a report of the case to date, explaining the reasons for my conclusion that Kevin was the killer. The problem was that I still lacked any substantial proof. I had no doubt that would be easy enough for the police to find once he was arrested. A serious probe into his finances would be one place to start. But I had to produce enough evidence to convince the police to take that first step.

  It seemed to me there were two ways to approach it. One was to 'persuade' Fat Freddy to co-operate. The other was to try to flush Kevin out into the open. That was risky, but the results would be much more damning than anything a Bradford villain might have to say.

  I found Jett in his sitting room, talking music with Kevin and Micky, who both looked less than thrilled to see me again. 'Sorry to interrupt, but I've got something important to say,' I announced.

  Jett jumped to his feet and crossed the room in a rush. He gripped my upper arms so tightly I knew I'd have to forget sleeveless dresses for a few days. 'You know who killed Moira? I sense it, Kate. You know!' he said intensely.

  'I've got a pretty good idea,' I said.

  'Tell me,' he shouted, shaking me.

  I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held on. 'Jett, you're hurting! Let me go!' I demanded.

  His hands fell to his sides and he slumped into the nearest chair, drained. 'I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to hurt you. You gotta tell me, though.'

  Micky lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. 'He's right. If you know, he's got a right to be told.'

  'I haven't got enough proof to start throwing accusations around yet,” I said. 'But I know where to go to find it. By this time tomorrow, I should know for sure. When I do, Jett, you'll know. What I want you to do is to get everyone together tomorrow at five. The blue drawing room's as good a place as any. I'll tell you everything I've learned then.'

  'For God's sake,' Kevin exploded. 'This is ridiculous. I never heard of anything so bloody silly. What do you think this is? Some crappy detective novel? Showdown in the drawing room? Why the hell can't you just tell Jett like you're paid to do?'

  'Shut up, Kevin,' Jett said forcefully. 'I gave Kate a free hand. She'll handle it. She knows what she's doing.'

  'Thanks,' I replied. 'The reason I want you all together is that I have things to say that affect each and every one of you. And there are people who know more than they've told, for whatever reason. Once they know they're no longer suspects, they'll be more willing to give me the full picture.'

  'Can't you give us some idea now? I don't fancy spending another night under the same roof as a killer,' Kevin protested.

  I had to hand it to him. He had bottle. Either that or the arrogance of the criminal who thinks he's cleverer than the investigators. 'No. All I will say is that Moira was killed because she knew too much. Someone in this house got greedy. They were trying to make a fast buck. And purely by chance, Moira found out. And once I've made a little trip across the Pennines tomorrow to talk to a certain businessman, I'll know everything Moira knew. And more. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I've got work to do.'

  I didn't hang around waiting for a response. Within five minutes, I was heading back to town. I'd done my best to flush Kevin out. Now I was going to have to cover my back.

  I double-tracked the busy line between Essen and Utrecht and monitored the effect on my station boxes. Railroad Tycoon, the ultimate computer strategy program, was doing the trick of taking my mind off the waiting game. It's not just little boys who like playing trains.

  I'd been building my trans-European railroad for about an hour when the doorbell rang. I froze the game and went through to the hall. The security lights blazed down on a uncomfortable-looking Kevin. Surprise, surprise. I was a little taken aback by the full frontal approach, but if he'd been planning to take me by surprise, he would have been f
oiled by the lights as soon as he got within twenty yards of any of the windows. I must remember to tell clients that they're a great deterrent against potential murderers.

  'Can we talk, Kate?' he said as soon as I opened the door.

  'I was actually having an evening off, Kevin. Can't it wait till tomorrow?'

  'We've got some things to clear up that won't wait.'

  'We do? You'd better come in then,” I said grudgingly, leading the way back through to the living room. I gestured to one of the sofas, and he perched on the edge.

  I sat down opposite him, deliberately not offering him a drink. I wanted to keep him edgy. 'What did you want to talk to me about?' I inquired.

  'You're setting me up,' he said abruptly, lacing his fingers together tightly. 'I didn't kill Moira, and you're trying to make it look like I did.'

  'I am? What makes you say that?' I asked coolly.

  He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. 'I overheard your conversation with Jett last night. I picked up the extension because I was waiting for a call.'

  'On Jett's private line? You'll have to try harder than that, Kevin.'

  He sighed. 'All right, all right. I picked it up because I was nosey, OK? That suit you better?'

  'Much better. I prefer it when people tell me the truth. You overheard our conversation. So?'

  Kevin unlocked his fingers and massaged the back of his neck with one hand. 'I'll come clean. I admit I've been doing one or two side deals that might not be strictly kosher.'

  'You mean you've been ripping Jett off with fake merchandise. Let's stick to plain English, Kevin.'

  He flinched. 'OK, but that doesn't mean I killed Moira. I don't even think she knew anything about it.'

  'She didn't tell you she'd seen you and Fat Freddy together?' I was intrigued by the line he was taking. I had to admit what he was saying wasn't impossible. After all, at the time of Moira's death, Maggie still hadn't found out exactly what line of work Fat Freddy was currently in. For all Moira knew, it could have been nothing to do with Jett.

  'No, she didn't. And if she'd known about it, do you really think she'd have kept her mouth shut? She was quick enough to badmouth me to Jett and to anyone else who'd listen about her bloody royalties money. She couldn't have resisted telling him anything she found to blacken my name with,” Kevin protested.

  The psychology sounded credible, I had to admit. But my belief in his guilt didn't just depend on one thing. I was torn between letting him stew till the following evening, and fronting him up with what I suspected, to see if I could nail him once and for all. Arrogance won, for a change. 'You must have wanted rid pretty badly,' I observed.

  Kevin gave me an admiring smile, all expensive dentistry and insincerity. 'Nice try, Kate. I'll admit that if she'd said she was leaving, I'd have carried her bags to the station. But murder? That's not my style.'

  'You had plenty of motive, though.'

  'Me?' Kevin threw his arms out in a gesture of supplication. 'Kate, if I bumped off every musician who made my life difficult, I'd have been in Strangeways a long time ago.'

  'I hear Moira thought that's where you should be.'

  Kevin's eyelids fluttered as his body tensed. 'Look, you keep making these innuendos, but I'd suggest you don't repeat them outside these four walls.'

  'I'm talking about money, Kevin. Not just the business with Fat Freddy, or Moira's back royalties. She was convinced you were doing some fancy footwork with Jett's cash. Otherwise, why would he be on the constant treadmill of tours and albums? Most people of his stature who've been in the game as long as he has take it a lot easier than him. A few big stadium dates, an album every eighteen months or so. But according to Moira, Jett had to keep working to keep paying the bills. So where was all the money?' I pinned him with a hard stare, and I was gratified to see his hands grip his knees tightly.

  'Look, I told you. If she'd had any proof of anything like that, do you think I'd still be around?' he exploded. 'She was full of shit! She loved to stir it. I told her a dozen times, her cash was all accounted for. It was tied up in a high interest investment account that I have to give three months' notice of withdrawal on. Out of that, tiny, insignificant fact, she built a whole edifice of poisonous rumour. That shows you the kind of woman she was.'

  'Frankly, I'm amazed. I'd have expected you all to fall on her neck weeping tears of joy and gratitude, given the way Jett's career's been going of late,' I retaliated.

  Kevin's head seemed to shrink into his shoulders, like a tortoise in retreat. 'Listen, Kate, I said when you started looking for Moira that we were looking at trouble. She was always a manipulative bitch. She loved playing us all off against each other, always had. OK, Jett's been going through a difficult patch in creative terms, but he would have come good again, with or without Moira. He just got this crazy obsession that he needed her. So we all got lumbered with her. She was only through the door five minutes when she had us all at each other's throats. I've told you already. We're not killers. We're putting an album together, that's the number one priority. No one would jeopardise that by making us the focus of all these shitty stories in the press,' he added.

  'I thought Neil was controlling the press for you.'

  Kevin snorted. 'Might as well try to knit a bed jacket out of a mountain stream as try to control those toe-rags. Neil's done his best, but he's got an uphill struggle on his hands. God knows where they've got some of this stuff from. I mean, one of them's even got some tale about Moira and Tamar being at each other's throats. I've a good mind to sue, except that it would only cause more bad publicity.'

  'You'd have a job suing.' I couldn't resist it.

  'What d'you mean?' he asked indignantly.

  'I don't think you'd have any grounds,' I said sweetly. 'But let's leave that aside for a minute,' I continued. 'Cast your mind back to the evening of Moira's death.'

  He butted in eagerly. 'I suppose you want to know what I was doing when Moira bought it?'

  I nodded. He nodded. We were like a pair of toy dogs on a car's parcel shelf. 'No problem,' he said. 'I'd been over to Liverpool for a business meeting and I got back around nine. I stuck my head round the TV room door and said hi to Jett and Tamar. Then I nipped up to my office to make a few phone calls. Around ten, I went downstairs and made myself a steak sandwich, then I popped down to the studio for a word with Micky. That must have been getting on for eleven. He was up to his eyes in it, so I left him to it and went back up to the TV room. Gloria was watching Dead Babies on The Late Show, and I sat in for a while. I went back down to the studio about quarter to twelve, and listened to a couple of tracks with Micky, then I hit the sack. Next thing I knew, all hell was breaking loose.'

  It was just detailed enough to be credible, if a bit glib. 'You don't have any problem with your memory, do you? Not like Micky?'

  'I might be pathetic in your eyes, but I'm not a bloody killer,' he flared up.

  This wasn't working out at all as I'd imagined. In my scenario, he was going to probe to find out what I knew then mount a murderous attack when he discovered I had him. Right now, he didn't look as if he could crush a daddy-long-legs.

  I took a long swig of my drink and settled back to deliver the clincher. 'Can you explain something to me, Kevin? If you didn't kill Moira, how is it that you knew exactly how she'd been murdered before the police told everyone?'

  He looked completely nonplussed. Gotcha, I thought. Prematurely, as it turned out. 'I don't know what you mean,' he said with an air of bewilderment. 'I knew the same time as everyone else. When the police interviewed me.'

  I shook my head. 'Not what I've been told. According to my witness, you knew how Moira had died by the time the police released you from the blue drawing room, a couple of hours after the murder.'

  'That's not true,' he cried, desperation in his voice. His eyes flicked from side to side, as if checking the escape routes. 'Who told you that? They're lying! They're all lying. They're trying to discredit me.' For the first time, his sma
rt-alec composure had cracked wide open. He clearly hadn't been expecting this at all.

  'You're the one who's lying, Kevin. You had means, motive and opportunity. You killed Moira, didn't you?'

  'No,' he shouted, jumping to his feet. 'I didn't. You bitch, you're trying to set me up! Somebody's trying to push me out. First Moira, now someone else. Tell me who told you those lies!'

  He lunged at me. I pushed myself sideways on the sofa. He crashed into the arm of the sofa, letting out an 'oogh' of pain. But he kept coming at me, yelling, 'Tell me, tell me.'

  I couldn't find enough space to use any of my boxing moves on him. He threw himself on me, gripping me by the throat. His paranoia seemed to lend him extra strength. I'd miscalculated. This was something I couldn't handle myself. Red spots danced in front of my eyes, and I could feel myself retching and fainting.