by Val McDermid
'I doubt if they will. He's already facing one serious charge, and there's a possibility he'll be on a murder charge by morning,' I explained softly.
He shook his head. 'This couldn't have come at a worse time. We're at a crucial stage with the album. I don't know what we're going to do.'
I was spared having to answer by Neil's entrance. He was positively bouncing with bonhomie as he crossed the room and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. I was so surprised I couldn't move out of the line of fire fast enough. Micky moved away, disgust written all over his face.
'I know it's tasteless to say so,' Neil whispered in my ear, 'but Kevin's arrest is going to make my book a bestseller. I've been on to my publisher this afternoon, and we're going to have the book ready to roll as soon as the trial finishes.'
'Why don't you get yourself a drink,' I said through clenched teeth. The guy gave a whole new meaning to sleaze.
He winked at me and made his way over to the bar. The distant sound of the gate intercom buzzer caught everyone's attention and Gloria moved automatically towards the door to the hall.
'It's all right, Gloria, I'll get it,' I said, moving swiftly across the room to head her off at the pass. I went out into the hall, closing the door behind me, and opened the gates for the final arrival.
I stood in the doorway and watched as the car slowly made its way up the drive. It pulled up at the foot of the steps, in a kind of defiance. Maggie Rossiter climbed out of the driver's seat and made her way up the steps towards me.
I cleared my throat and said, 'People, if I could have your attention for a moment?' The murmur of conversation triggered off by Maggie's arrival ended as abruptly as if I'd pushed the mute button on their remote control. Jackson turned towards me and leaned against a marble topped pier table.
'You all know about Kevin's arrest, and I expect that most of you think that it's only a matter of time till he's charged with Moira's murder. But then, you already thought that about Maggie when she was arrested. However, I was hired to find a killer, and I suspect that most of you think that's exactly what I've done. But until I've cleared up some loose ends that are still remaining, I'm afraid I can't regard the case as being closed. That's why I've asked you all together. There are some inconsistencies in the stories I've been told, and I thought the best way to deal with them was to have you all together. It's a shame Kevin can't be here, but we'll just have to work around that.' I looked around at their expressions, some hostile, some fascinated.
I took a deep breath and continued. “I hadn't been working the case for very long when I discovered that someone in this house had already been trying to get rid of Moira.
'Gloria, who is a diabetic, had noticed syringes going missing from her room. It was only a matter of time before she got round to telling Jett, who at the very least would have confronted Moira and accused her of returning to her old habits. But not content with that, the person who stole the syringes also purchased some heroin. According to Maggie, every few days some heroin and a syringe would appear in Moira's room, facing her with a temptation that most people in her shoes would have found it impossible to resist.
'But she did resist, and so the first thing I had to ask myself was if the killer was the same person who'd been trying to get rid of her earlier. But you weren't the killer, were you, Tamar?'
Tamar was on her feet. 'You poisonous bitch,' she screeched at me. 'You poisonous, lying bitchV Then she whirled round to face Jett, whose face was as cold as a marble statue. 'She's lying, Jett, I swear she's lying.'
T can prove what I'm saying,' I replied coldly. 'The pusher who sold you the heroin identified your picture. You might have tried to get rid of Moira, but I'm satisfied you didn't kill her. There's a big difference between offering someone the option of death and actually facing up to your victim and caving her head in.'
Tamar clutched Jett's arm and fell to her knees in a histrionic show of supplication. He shrugged her arm off roughly and hissed, 'Get away from me, slag.'
She collapsed on the floor and began to sob noisily. Micky moved cross to her and jerked her to her feet. 'For fuck's sake, get a grip,' he shouted angrily, dragging her away and thrusting her into an armchair.
'Get on with it,' Jett snapped.
'Gloria wasn't telling me the whole truth either,' I reported. She looked startled and gazed at me with a terrified fascination.
'I don't know what you mean,” she stammered. 'I haven't lied to you.'
'You came downstairs on the night of the murder and saw someone leaving the rehearsal room. You denied it, but there's only one person you'd lie to protect, and that's Jett. It was Jett you saw leaving the room, and you lied about it.'
'I never,' she shouted, like a small child who's been caught out lying about a broken piece of crockery. 'I never did.'
'What you didn't realise was that Jett had admitted to having been in the rehearsal room earlier. But that was before Moira arrived there. So there was no point in your lie.'
Gloria collapsed into the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands. 'Is there anything else you've lied to me about?' I asked gently.
She looked up, tears streaking her cheeks and shook her head mutely. I was inclined to believe her.
'Micky.' As I said his name, he moved a couple of steps nearer to me, his long arms dangling at his sides like a caricature of a Western gunslinger. 'I want to ask you about events in this room immediately after Moira died.'
'I've already told you all I know,' he said mutinously.
'All I want is some more detail,' I said persuasively.
'Tell her what she wants to know,' Jett growled.
Micky looked as if he wanted to argue, but he quickly remembered which side his bread was buttered. 'OK, fire away,' he complained.
'Can you tell me where you were sitting and who you were talking to?'
'I sat down on that chair over there,' he said, pointing to the one where Tamar was currently leaving salt stains on the silk upholstery. 'Kevin was stood next to me, by the bar. He poured me a drink, and we talked about Moira being killed. You know, what a shock it was, that kind of thing. He was worried about the effect it would have on Jett. Whether he'd be able to finish the album, whether the bad publicity would affect sales, the usual kind of Kevin shit.'
'Did he say anything at all about how she'd been killed?'
'Only that nobody seemed to be telling exactly what had happened. He said it must have been a burglar, or somebody she'd brought back with her from the village.'
I hoped to hell Jackson was keeping an eye on everyone. I was concentrating too hard on what I was doing to check the reactions around me. 'Did Kevin talk to anyone else apart from you?'
Micky's forehead concertinaed as he thought for a moment. 'Yeah,” he eventually sighed. 'Neil came over and asked what he wanted doing about the press. Kevin told him to deal with it, and to put out a story on it, just giving the bare bones of what had happened. He said he wanted it all handled in-house, and that Neil should make it clear that any other journalist who tried to get an interview would be wasting their time and his.'
I felt that warm feeling in my gut that tells me I've cracked it. 'And that's all he said?'
Micky nodded. 'Yeah. Neil fixed himself a drink and kind of drifted off to the corner. He was sitting scribbling in a notebook. I suppose he was getting a story together.'
'When did you and Kevin separate?' The crucial question.
Micky looked exasperated. T don't know what this has got to do with anything,' he stalled while he visibly cast his mind back. 'Let me see . . . We came out of here together and walked up the stairs after the cops said we should all go to bed. I said good night to him outside his bedroom door. He looked as sick as a parrot. No wonder, after what he'd been up to.'
I turned my head towards Neil. His eyes were calm and clear as they met mine, as if he were offering me some kind of challenge.
31
The temptation to go for the high melodrama was almost
overwhelming till I looked at Jett. It didn't take much perception to see that the guy was near the end of his rope. So I didn't point dramatically and say, 'Inspector, there is your murderer.'
Instead, I took a swig of my drink and said casually, 'Neil, why did you lie to me about what Kevin said to you?'
He smiled disarmingly and spread his hands out in a gesture of innocence. 'But I didn't, Kate. You're surely not going to take Micky's word against mine? A cokehead who relies on Kevin for the pennies in his bank account? He's got every reason to lie to protect Kevin. But me? Why should I lie to you?'
'There's only one reason why, Neil. You killed Moira.' A strange stillness seemed to have descended on the room. I'd certainly captured their attention now.
If I'd expected Neil to cave in, I was swiftly disappointed. He grinned and said, 'I hope Mortensen and Brannigan have made a good profit this year. When I sue you for slander, I want it to be worth my while.'
I returned his grin. 'I know I only managed to complete two years of law school, but it's always been my understanding that truth is an absolute defence in slander actions.'
'But you have to prove truth,' Neil parried swiftly. 'And I fail to see how you're going to provide proof of something I didn't do.' His smile had a triumphant edge that almost made me doubt what I knew to be true.
'But there is proof, Neil. Right under this roof is all the proof I need.'
He shook his head at me incredulously. 'She's out to lunch and not coming back in a hurry,' he said to the room at large.
Just then, Jackson moved forward into the room. 'I'd be interested in seeing your idea of proof, even if no one else is,' he said. I had an idea how much it cost him to utter those words, and I had to grant him a reluctant respect.
'If you'll follow me, Inspector, we need to make a little visit to Mr Webster's office,' I said formally.
'Wait a minute,' Neil said, showing traces of apprehension for the first time. 'What the hell do you think you're going to find there?'
'My proof,' I said, stalking out of the room. I didn't need to look back to know that I could easily have passed for the Pied Piper.
Neil overtook me on the threshold and snapped loudly enough for Jackson and everyone else to hear, 'Just what the hell do you think you're playing at? All this because your precious boyfriend wasn't good enough to write Jett's biography?'
'This has got nothing to do with Richard,' I informed him and everyone else within earshot. The tension was beginning to eat into me, and I didn't know how long I could maintain my cool facade.
'Oh no?' he sneered.
Ignoring him, I went straight to his computer, sat down in front of it and switched it on. Jackson leaned over my shoulder, while the others crowded round behind him. Neil hung back slightly, but his eyes were glued to the screen. I briefly looked through the text files in the directory where he stored his stories, then I moved over to his communications program and keyed into it. 'For those of you who aren't familiar with computers,' I said as I hit the keys, 'this is a program that sends material over the telephone lines to another computer. Journalists use it to file copy electronically to newsdesks.'
I chose the 'text edit' option and called up the first story he'd sent out about Moira's killing. I slowly scrolled through the story till only the last line remained off screen. 'As you'll see, Neil had all the details of how Moira was killed. No problem with that if the story was filed after the police gave you all the details of how Moira was killed. Details which none of you who were shut up in the blue drawing room knew except Jett.'
'Which it was,' Neil blustered. 'And you can't prove otherwise.'
In silence, I brought the last line up on the screen. It gave the date-stamp on the story. 2.35 a.m.
'It's a set-up,' Neil shouted wildly. 'She's set this up, can't you see? She's the only one who knows enough about computers. She's framed me.' His face was glossy with sweat and his eyes flicked nervously round the room.
'You can confirm that evidence with the company who transmit the electronic mail, I should imagine, Inspector,' I said coldly.
'Neil Webster,' Jackson intoned, pushing through the press of bodies. 'I must warn you . . .'
The rest of his official caution was drowned by the sound of breaking glass as Neil threw himself through the window in a sparkling shower of splinters.
A soft kiss tickling the back of my neck woke me up. “I hear you nailed the bastard,' Richard murmured into my ear. 'Well done.'
I groaned softly and rolled over on to my back. I could feel the warmth of his naked flesh next to mine, and the prospect of snuggling into him was more tempting than I wanted to admit. So I complained, 'Couldn't it wait till morning?'
'I only just heard about it. I went in to the Mirror to drop off some copy, and they told me Neil had been arrested, thanks to some nifty footwork by Mortensen and Brannigan,' he said proudly.
'Mmm,' I said. 'That's about the size of it.'
'So tell me all about it,' he demanded enthusiastically. He moved away from me and I heard the soft pop and hiss of a champagne bottle being opened. There was no hope of catching up on sleep now. I sat up and switched on the bedside light.
Richard blinked in the unexpected glow, then gave me his cutest smile as he handed me a fizzing glass of pink champagne. 'Every cough and spit,' he demanded.
So I told him all about the showdown, and how Neil had been picked up within five minutes by the team Jackson had wisely stationed outside. He'd been taken to hospital where he'd been formally charged while the casualty staff sewed up his cuts.
'Great job,' Richard said with as much satisfaction as if he'd been the prime mover. 'But I still don't understand why he killed her. Surely it wasn't just to produce a scandal that would sell his book?'
'Not quite. I don't think he actually meant to kill her. There was nothing premeditated about it. He was just incredibly lucky that no one else had an alibi and everyone else had better motives.'
'But why?' Richard howled in frustration.
I smiled sweetly and took a long, slow mouthful of champagne. 'Can't tell you. It's all subjudice, and you journalists can never keep your mouths shut.'
'Kate!' he wailed, his face a mixture of injured innocence and pure frustration.
I had to relent. 'When Moira left Jett all those years ago, she was pregnant. She had nowhere to go, and not a lot of cash left, so she had an abortion. Jett never knew about it, and it's a pound to a gold clock that he would never have had her back if he had done. The guy's notoriously anti-abortion, and he'd never have forgiven her for killing his own kid. Anyway, Neil found out about the abortion, and he told Moira he knew. Maybe he was even trying a spot of blackmail. She didn't want a walking time-bomb like that around the place. I questioned Kevin about it last night, and it turns out that she was trying to do a deal with him where Neil would be kicked out. In exchange, Moira wouldn't tell Jett about Kevin's little games with the money. Once Neil was out the door, anything he said would be seen as sour grapes.
'She must have been crowing to him about it in the rehearsal room. The prospect of being deprived of what must have been his last chance of a meal ticket was too much for him. He snapped and picked up the nearest object and thumped her with it. Like I said, I don't think murder was part of his plans, but having done it, he did his damnedest to make sure he got away with it.'
'And he would have done, too, if you hadn't known about the date-stamp on the files,' Richard said. 'Bloody clever of you.'
'Mmm,' I said. 'I wouldn't have known what to look for if Bill hadn't been able to hack into the electronic mail company's records to check exactly when those files were sent.' I carefully put my glass down on the bedside table and rolled over into Richard's arms. I deserved some fun after the last few days.
As my body started to tingle under Richard's familiar caresses, I made a mental note to burn the cassette of that earlier interview with Neil. It wouldn't do for Inspector Jackson to find out that Neil not only hadn't date-stamped hi
s files. He hadn't even known how to.
