The Circle

by Peter Lovesey

  'Some hours ago. I saw it on TV. If it's anything like the fire that killed Blacker, it was started at night when no one was about.'

  'What a wicked thing,' Dagmar said.

  'She was a sweetie,' Thomasine said.'I can't understand this.'

  'Have they got her out?' Dagmar asked.

  'There can't be much left of her to get out,' Bob said. 'From what I could see, the fire got a grip before anyone arrived. It burned like a furnace inside. The place is just a shell now.'

  'It's appalling,' Dagmar said. 'And you're right, Tommy. She was a lovely person, always helping people in trouble. All the work she did for the women's refuge, working in the charity shop. They're going to miss her.'

  'So are we,' Thomasine said. 'She did great as the circle secretary. Don't know why she took it on. It's not a job I'd want, with people like Anton ready to jump on any mistake you make.'

  'She was glad of the chance to work with Maurice,' Dagmar said, and added at once, 'I don't mean that unkindly. She was very high-minded, and so is Maurice, but there is some satisfaction to be got by a single lady linking up with a nice man in a worthwhile enterprise.'

  There speaks the romantic novelist, Bob thought. He'd always thought of Dagmar as the one who fancied Maurice the most.

  Thomasine's mind was elsewhere. 'Is it safe to assume the killer is the person who phoned Miss Snow and tried to lure her to the boat house?'

  'That's my reading of it,' Bob said. 'Same m.o., basically.'

  'M.o.?'

  'Latin, isn't it? Same method. Killing by fire. Dead simple and not much risk. They must have stuffed some inflammable material in the space under the boat house for it to go up like it did. A fire doesn't take that quickly without paraffin or something.'

  'Do you think they realised it was you inside and not Miss Snow?'

  'I shouted plenty. They heard me.'

  'What you're saying is that it was a trap meant for Miss Snow and when you walked into it they decided you'd better go instead?'

  'Abso-bloody-lutely. I knew too much already.'

  'And for a time they must have thought they'd succeeded, unless they watched you climb out on the roof.'

  'I sensed they'd gone by then. Light the blue touch paper and run.'

  There was a silence between them for a short while, as if no one wanted to make the dread conclusion that united them. At length it was Thomasine who spoke it.

  'Let's face it. These fires all have a connection with the circle. None of us is safe any more.'

  'But why pick on us?' Dagmar said. 'We're no threat to anyone, a harmless group of writers. We're not the mafia.'

  'Dag, one of us can't be harmless,' Thomasine said. 'Someone in the circle is a killer.'

  'It could be an outsider.'

  'I don't see it. Three fires, all linked to the circle. They know who we are and where we live.'

  'But why? Where's the sense in it?'

  'I think we've got to consider pyromania.'

  'Come again?' Bob said.

  'Pyromania. People with a thing about starting fires. A mental illness. They have this need to see places go up in flames.'

  'I've heard of that,' he said, 'but you're wrong. Our fire-raiser is picking on people, not buildings.'

  'Maybe.'

  'No maybe about it. This was murder, Thomasine, murder the easy way. You don't even have to look your victim in the eye. You sneak up to the house, shove a firebomb through the letterbox and run.'

  'Horrible,' Dagmar said.

  'Is that how it was started?' Thomasine said.

  'No one is saying yet, but the fire at Blacker's house started in the front hall. That's the method.'

  'So what can we do - leave it to the police?'

  He rolled his eyes. 'Right now, I have zero confidence in that lot. You and I know more about the members of the circle than the police do. Who have they interviewed? Only Maurice.'

  Dagmar spread her hands in appeal. 'And he's innocent. No one can dispute that any more.'

  'You think we can take this on?' Thomasine said to Bob.

  Before he answered, Dagmar took a deep breath. 'It's a huge risk, isn't it? You're the two who have been asking questions and we know what happened to you, Bob.'

  He said, 'Bugger that. I'm angry.'

  'Me, too,' Thomasine said. 'I want to nail this bastard, whoever it is.'

  Dagmar looked from one to the other. No question: they were in earnest.

  'So why was Miss Snow killed?' Thomasine said.

  'She got things going in the first place,' Bob said. 'She got onto me and asked me to do whatever I could to get Maurice released. She was dead worried that the police were going to stitch him up.' He stared into his coffee. "Well, she told me something in confidence, but I think this is the time to share it with you. Maurice did a short spell inside.'

  The colour drained from Dagmar's cheeks. 'What?'

  'There was trouble with a neighbour and Maurice overreacted.'

  'This doesn't sound like Maurice,' Thomasine said.

  'I'm not kidding. The neighbour was an arsehole. He made Maurice's life a misery. Two of his rottweilers took over the garden and Maurice flipped his lid and shot them. But the worst of it was that Maurice made a bonfire of some wood the neighbour had heaped against his fence. The fire got out of control and burnt some property including a boat that was under repair.'

  'Now I understand,' Thomasine said. 'Maurice has form as a fire-raiser.'

  'You said the fire was accidental,' Dagmar stressed, as if it was Bob's fault.

  'That's what I was told, love, but there are two things you don't ever do in this country. You don't sit down during God Save the Queen, and you don't shoot somebody's pet animal. He shot two. A jury won't ignore that. He was sent down for a few months.'

  'Dreadful,' Dagmar said.

  'Let's keep our eye on the ball,' Thomasine said. 'Who do we think is on the shortlist for this?'

  'The four fellows we've already spoken to,' Bob said.

  'Basil?' Thomasine said, dubious.

  'On his own I wouldn't rate him, but with Naomi breathing down his neck . . . '

  She gave a nod. 'True.'

  'Then there are the women, present company excepted.'

  'Why?' Thomasine said with a half smile. 'Why exclude us? We could have done it, Dagmar and I, the same as anyone else. And, come to think of it, we haven't ever considered you as a suspect, Mr Bob Naylor.'

  'I only joined the circle after Edgar Blacker was dead.'

  'Ha!' she said, pointing an accusing finger, but still smiling, 'and how convenient, coming among us and putting us through the wringer, one by one. What if you were Blacker's killer for some reason none of us has yet discovered and all this is a smokescreen to throw off suspicion?'

  He weighed Thomasine's theory, allowing that it was meant in fun, yet forced to admit that it had something going for it. She was so bright. 'Let's have a truce,' he said finally. 'For the time being we'll focus on the others. If we eliminate them all we'll go head to head, right?'

  'Righty.'

  'Righty,' Dagmar said. Bob had almost dismissed her from his mind, such was the force of Thomasine's personality.

  'And here's a suggestion,' he said. 'Why don't we call a meeting of the circle and bring them up to speed on what's going on? See them as a group and find out their reactions to what happened this morning.'

  'Isn't that dangerous?' Dagmar said.

  'More dangerous for the killer.'

  'But we don't have the authority to call a meeting. It's up to the chair and the secretary to decide about that.'

  'The chair's in the slammer and the secretary's dead. If someone doesn't make a move we'll never get them together. Who else is on the committee?'

  'Dagmar and me,' Thomasine said. 'Oh, what the hell, let's go for it. What do you say, Dag?'

  He did a day's work before calling at the police station to make the statement. From the cool reaction he'd got in the morning he guessed the rozzers w
ouldn't be too worried if he forgot the whole thing, but he had his own agenda. He was going to find out if they knew anything he didn't.

  He was seen by a friendly plain-clothes man the shape and size of a shot-putter.

  'Mr Naylor, I'm glad you came. We already spoke to your daughter.'

  'What's she been up to?'

  'We were looking for you, to make this statement.'

  'Funny. No one gave a monkey's this morning.'

  'It's a full-scale murder inquiry now. There was a body in the house.'

  'The lady who lived there. I told your inspector.'

  'It's got to be identified. We're not even certain yet if it was male or female.'

  'Amelia Snow.'

  'We don't take anything for granted. The fire really took off, as you would have seen. Do you want to tape this statement or write it down?'

  'Tape sounds like less work.'

  'I'll see which room is free.'

  When they were inside an interview room and seated, the officer said, 'This is Chichester police station.'

  'I know,' Bob said.'I live here.'

  'That was for the tape.'

  He smiled and gave a shrug. 'Sorry, squire.'

  'Twentieth of July, two thousand and five. I'm DC Shilling, the interviewing officer—'

  'And I'm Bob Naylor.'

  'Right. Would you read out what's on this card?'

  '"I make this statement of my own free will. I understand that I need not say anything unless I wish to do so and that what I say may be given in evidence." Right?' He went over the salient details of the last few days, starting with the call from Miss Snow asking for the return of the video. 'She said someone from the police had asked for it and she was going to bring it here.'

  'She did. It was handed in,' DC Shilling said.

  'So it wasn't lost in the fire. Thank God for that.'

  'You can thank DI Cherry, my boss. He got in touch with Miss Snow and asked her to bring it in.'

  'Is he in charge of the case?'

  'Was. Someone else is taking over now. A DCI from Bognor. Two suspicious deaths is a bit much for one DI to handle.'

  'Plus the fire in the boat house,' Bob said.

  'If it was related.'

  'You bet it was related,' Bob said, and launched into his account of the mysterious phone call to Miss Snow offering information that would get Maurice out of jail. Then he explained how he took Miss Snow's place and turned up at the boat house and was nearly barbecued.

  'You saw no one?' Shilling said.

  'He kept out of sight, whoever he was. Or she.'

  'Pity you didn't report this at the time.'

  'You found out soon enough, didn't you?' Bob said. 'You could see the blaze from here.'

  'But we didn't know about you.'

  'If you had, you might have thought I was the arsonist.'

  'Fair comment. We've only got your word that you aren't.'

  Bob held up a finger. 'Hold on. Get this straight. I volunteered to tell you all this.'

  'Noted. Have you got any enemies, Mr Naylor? Anyone who might want to harm you?'

  He glared back, 'I told you this was meant for Miss Snow, not me. I took her place.'

  'I follow that, but answer the question, please.'

  'Well, I shoot off at the mouth more often than I should, but I can't think of anyone who feels that sore about me.'

  'What about these people in the writers' circle?'

  'What about them?'

  'Anyone taken a dislike to you?'

  'That'd be quick. I've only been to one meeting. They're friendly so far. When are you going to release Maurice, the chairman? There's no way he could have started this fire.'

  'He's being held on a separate charge.'

  'The fire at Edgar Blacker's place. Don't you think it's got to be the same guy?'

  'When the forensic report is in, I'm sure the SIO will compare the two incidents and form a conclusion.'

  'They're both arson, aren't they?'

  'The first was a deliberate act. The fire investigator found that it started in the front hall, from something pushed through the letterbox. This one may appear similar but it's got to be confirmed.'

  'Everyone says you're wasting your time on Maurice.'

  'It's not up to me,' Shilling said. 'We'll see, we'll see.'

  An hour later, two beers and a mushroom pizza to the good, Bob thought about what he'd learned. The fuzz were in no hurry to release Maurice. The new chief honcho needed to get up to speed with the case. They were waiting for the forensic results from the fire investigation. With so little action, the killer would be thinking this was easy-peasy.

  He recalled Miss Snow's jitters about the call the killer had made. At the time he'd thought he'd solved her problem. He'd felt quite pleased with himself, doing his knight-in-shining-armour bit. Even when things went wrong at the boat house, he'd told himself he'd saved the lady from a bad experience. The thought hadn't crossed his mind that the killer would try something else.

  Miss Snow was on Bob's conscience now. He was fully committed to finding the killer.

  He just wished his hands wouldn't shake so much.

  13

  My life's been a meeting, Dad, one long meeting. Even on the few committees I don't yet belong to, the agenda winks at me when I pass.

  Gwyn Thomas, The Keep (1961)

  Wish I'd worn something else, Bob was thinking when he turned up at the New Park Centre in his Guinness T-shirt. This was more like a memorial service than a circle meeting. The members nodded solemnly to each other and everyone was talking in hushed voices. The sense of shock and bereavement was real. Basil and Anton were wearing black ties. Nobody was in the bright colours you'd expect on a fine summer's evening.

  Even the room seemed cold.

  'Are we all here yet? Is anyone missing?' Thomasine asked, and then put her hand to her mouth as if she wished she'd said something else. One absentee was on everyone's mind.

  She tried again. 'Shall we get the chairs around the table?'

  While this was going on, Bob made a count. Everyone except Miss Snow and Maurice.

  Anton called across the room to Thomasine. 'Who's going to chair this?'

  'I thought I would, if no one objects,' she said. 'Dagmar and I are on the committee. She's offered to take the minutes.'

  'Is it a regular meeting, then?'

  'No, darling, I think it's best described as an extraordinary meeting, don't you?'

  Satisfied, it seemed, he went to a chair and sat down.

  Dagmar, on Thomasine's left, said in confidence, 'Should we start with a prayer?'

  'I thought we'd have a minute's silence. We're not all church-goers.'

  For once there was no need to call them all to order. They'd taken their places around the table and gone silent. Thomasine explained that she'd called the meeting in Maurice's absence, but she was confident he would give it his approval as soon as he was released, as he surely would be. She said, 'We're here out of respect to the memory of Miss Snow, our secretary, and I propose that we start with a minute's silence.'

  Anton said, 'Do we know for certain that she died?'

  'For pity's sake,' Tudor said. 'This isn't the time for nitpicking, old boy. You don't see her here, do you?'

  Dagmar said, 'I expect she's here in spirit.'

  Jessie, the archdeacon's widow, said, 'Amen.'

  'So if you have a problem with showing respect, why don't you take care of the timekeeping?' Tudor said to Anton. 'Tell us when the minute is up.'

  'If you wish.'

  'Shouldn't we stand?' Basil said.

  Thomasine said this was a good suggestion.

  So they stood, some with heads bowed, thinking of Miss Snow until Anton said, 'Time.'

  Tudor turned on him again. 'This isn't a bloody booze-up. We're trying to show respect for a dead colleague.'

  'What else was I supposed to do - whistle "The Last Post"?' Anton said.

  Thomasine said, 'Cool it, guy
s. Let's all sit down and have a civilised discussion about where we go from here.'

  'I propose Dagmar for our new secretary,' Jessie said as soon as they were settled.

  'Seconded,' Basil said so fast that it had the signs of a fix.

  Tudor held up both hands as if to stop an advancing train. 'Before we rush into this, let's ask Dagmar if she's willing to take the risk.'

  Dagmar looked up from her notepad. 'What risk?'

  'The risk of stepping into a dead woman's shoes.'

  Dagmar took in a sharp breath. 'Are you saying she was killed because she was secretary?'

  'I haven't the faintest why she was killed, my dear, but it has to be a possibility.'

  'Surely not,'Jessie said, looking to right and left. 'We're a harmless organisation, aren't we?'

  Nobody spoke, but the way Naomi rolled her eyes was eloquent enough.

  Jessie's question hung in the air until Dagmar, white-faced, said, 'I think I'll stand down after this meeting.'

  Thomasine glared at Tudor. 'Well, we don't have to rush this. Next time someone else may like to volunteer.'

  'What are we going to do about dear old Maurice?' Basil said. 'He's still being held by the police when it's patently obvious he's an innocent man. We've had three attacks of arson and he couldn't possibly have carried out the last two.'

  'I'm afraid the woodentops don't think that way,' Tudor said. 'They'll let him go when they're ready, and not before. They can pretty well do as they like.'

  Zach nodded and said, 'Fascist pigs.'

  'They'll be carrying out forensic tests,' Anton said. 'If the results are in his favour, they'll let him go.'

  'You have a touching faith in the Old Bill,' Tudor said.

  Thomasine in her stand-in role as chair said, 'One of the reasons I wanted to call this meeting is that after what's happened we're sure to get some attention from the press.'

  'Some attention?' Anton said.

  Tudor said, 'They'll hang us out to dry.'

  Jessie said, 'What on earth does that mean?'

  'They'll have our guts for garters, then.'

  Jessie said, 'Please!' Whether it was the guts or the garters that upset her was impossible to tell.

  Anton came to her rescue. 'Tudor, we are a literary organisation. I suggest we leave vulgarisms in the street where they belong.' For Jessie's benefit, he said, 'The gist is that the press will take advantage of us.'