Night Fall

by Frank Smith

  ‘I keep thinking there had to be something I could have done to save them both,’ Paget told Grace later that night, ‘but Jones had Mike standing in one of the openings right on the edge, and the only thing stopping him from going over the edge was Jones himself. The distance between us was just too great to attempt to rush him. There was nothing any of us could do.’

  ‘And, from what you’ve said, I don’t suppose Mike Fulbright could do anything to save himself, bound the way he was?’

  Paget shook his head. ‘Not only that,’ he said, ‘but I suspect he was drugged as well. Jones used Rohypnol on some of the others, so Starkie ordered tox tests to be done before the drug has a chance to disappear.’

  ‘At least it’s over, and the man responsible for all those deaths is dead,’ Grace said, looking for something positive she could say. ‘And there are times, Neil, when there is nothing you can do. You said it yourself: rushing the man was out of the question. He was determined to play things out his way right to the end, and there was nothing you or Tregalles or even the Reverend Fulbright could have done to stop him.’

  She didn’t like to see Neil like this. His face was beginning to show some colour, but it had been grey when he arrived home, and there was still a haunted look about the eyes.

  But he seemed to want to talk. ‘There will be an inquiry,’ he told her. ‘This thing could drag on for months. Once I’d briefed Amanda, she took things in hand and did everything by the book. That’s why I’m so late home. We all had to write our separate reports, each in a separate room under supervision to make sure there was no cribbing, and I expect there will be recorded interviews tomorrow.’

  ‘Bit of a shake-up for the new sergeant,’ Grace commented. ‘Poor girl. How did she take it?’

  ‘She stood up well. She did her job and I’m proud of her.’

  ‘Still, something like that can hit you later,’ Grace said, ‘so . . .’

  ‘I’ll be keeping an eye on her,’ Paget promised, ‘and if I see any signs that it’s bothering her, I’ll send her off for counselling.’

  ‘What about you?’ Grace asked, ‘and I’m not being facetious. That sort of thing can get to you.’

  For the first time since coming home, Paget smiled. ‘I’ve got you,’ he said as he put his arms around her and pulled her to him, ‘and you’re better than any counsellor I’ve ever met.’

  Theodore Fulbright was being kept in hospital overnight for observation, but he would be arrested and charged with the killing of Angelica Jones once he was released. But, terrible as his crime was, Paget couldn’t help wondering what good it would do to lock the man up, other than to satisfy the law of the land. ‘He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison,’ he told Grace, ‘but I suspect he’s already as good as dead inside.’

  The next few days were a blur to all of them. Everything had to be documented, checked and double checked for the Crown Prosecution Service, who would be putting together the case against Theodore Fulbright, although the word was that he had said he intended to plead guilty and wasn’t interested in defending himself. But, as Amanda pointed out, he could change his mind, so the rules had to be followed, tedious as they might seem.

  ‘I feel as if it’s us who are under investigation,’ Tregalles complained to Molly. ‘Next time, I’m going to carry a video camera, and they can see and hear what happened for themselves.’

  ‘I hope to God there never is a next time, not like that,’ said Molly. ‘I keep seeing those two men every time I close my eyes, and I can’t help thinking—’

  ‘That there was something you could have done?’ Tregalles broke in. ‘There wasn’t, Molly. You know it and I know it. If we’d made a move towards him, the result would have been the same. There was no way Jones was going to be talked down. He’d made up his mind that Mike Fulbright must pay for killing his daughter, and once that was done, he had no reason to live himself. If you hadn’t come up with the connection to Angelica Jones’s death, he might have got away with it. But with us there, he knew he was finished. The fact that it turned out it was Mike’s father who killed her, made no difference to him in the end.’

  EPILOGUE

  Saturday, 5 November

  St Mark’s Memorial Chapel was a small brick building on Wentnall Street. Paget, in dress uniform, arrived early, together with Grace, and Valerie Alcott was there in the lobby to greet them. Paget introduced Grace, and they chatted quietly for a few moments, but Valerie was obviously on tenterhooks and kept looking at her watch.

  ‘As I told you on the phone,’ she said, ‘I don’t expect more than a handful of people will be here, and I do appreciate your agreeing to say a few words about my father, Mr Paget.’ She looked at her watch again and was about to say something when the door opened and Fiona McRae came in. Paget was about to make introductions, but Valerie shook her head and said, ‘It’s all right, Mr Paget, we’ve met, and thank you so much for coming, Fiona. Dad would be pleased.’ Blinking back tears, Fiona embraced the younger woman, and then stood back.

  Valerie sighed and looked at her watch again. ‘I know it’s not quite time, but perhaps we should go in. I don’t think there will be any more com—’ She stopped speaking as the outer door opened and Superintendent Amanda Pierce, in full dress uniform, entered, followed by a line of uniformed officers filing in behind her. Amanda paused to be introduced to Valerie and to offer her condolences, then moved on into the chapel. Ormside, Tregalles and Molly Forsythe, all in uniform, paused as well, while the rest filed quietly by to take their seats inside. Twenty-one of them, Paget counted as they went past.

  There was no sign of Brock. Amanda had sent the chief superintendent a memo, and Paget had hoped that someone from head office would attend to mark and show respect for the passing of a colleague. But no . . . Perhaps that was just as well, he thought, because the people who were there had come because they wanted to pay their respects.

  Paget turned to Valerie to suggest that they take their places. Tears were streaming down her face, but she was smiling. ‘They remembered him,’ she said. ‘Dad would have been so pleased.’ She touched Paget’s arm and said, ‘I think I’m ready to go in now.’