The Circle

by Peter Lovesey

  'You can assume anything,' she said. 'You don't have to bother with the truth. It's up to me to unearth the facts and write them down - as I'm doing, on the website - and you'd better start soon. The killing of Miss Snow gives this a dimension I hadn't dared to expect, definitely a serial arsonist at work.'

  'Seems so.'

  'Come on, Zach. Don't tantalise. How does your story go?'

  'I had a good look at that photo,' he said. 'The writing on the back says it was taken in 1982, over twenty years ago. It would have been neat if the other guy turned out to be a member of the circle, but I can't see any resemblance.'

  'There's such a thing as artistic licence.'

  He shook his head. 'I've already headed in another direction. In this version, he's the second son of a duke. I've called him Jason. The family are rich, but rich, filthy rich.'

  She gave an approving nod. 'That's always good in a book.'

  'A castle, a house in Belgravia and a place in the South of France. Edgar Blacker - may I call him by his real name?'

  Now she gazed down at her coffee. 'Maybe not. We'll think about that.'

  'For the time being?'

  A pause, then, 'All right.'

  'He asks to use one of the family homes as the background to a photo shoot for a magazine feature, and that's how he gets to meet Jason.'

  Naomi nodded again, liking it. 'They are attracted to each other and . . . '

  'Jason invites Blacker to share his penthouse in London. They're very close, those two. The next thing is, Jason's older brother - the heir to the dukedom - is killed in a boating accident'

  'Lovely. Drops overboard?'

  'On a sea trip off the coast of France.'

  'Is it murder?'

  'Of course. Blacker is responsible. While the yacht was anchored in a big marina and everyone was sleeping, he came aboard and chloroformed the brother and dragged him out of the cabin and heaved him overboard. The body isn't recovered for several days. No one suspects Blacker. No one knows he was anywhere near the boat.'

  'This is more like it,' Naomi said, reaching out to put a hand over Zach's. 'You have such a fertile imagination.'

  'It never sounds so clever just describing the plot,' Zach said. 'It will grab you when I get it on paper.'

  'On the web,' she corrected him. 'It grabs me now. Does he tell Jason what he's done?'

  'Not yet. But of course Jason is now the heir. Blacker does all he can to cultivate the relationship. For a time everything is cool. Then there are problems. Blacker is taking too much for granted, bringing clients back to the flat to impress them. There's a suspicion he's pocketing money that Jason leaves around. They fall out, big time. Jason shows him the door. Blacker goes apeshit and tells Jason what he did to ensure he inherited. He says if the murder ever gets known he'll swear he was acting under orders from Jason. He demands a big pay-off, and gets it. Do you see now? That's the back story. It's all set up for the murder of Blacker some years later.'

  'By Jason?'

  'Yes. Maybe Blacker has surfaced again and wants a big handout to finance his publishing venture. Jason can see this blackmail going on indefinitely.'

  Naomi's eyes glittered. 'So he goes out to the cottage one night and sets it on fire? This is where our two stories touch base at a point of reality. Mine will be a faithful account of all the known facts about the fire while yours has soared away into fantasy.'

  Zach nodded. 'But I'm still not clear how this will look on a computer screen. What's the reader going to make of it?'

  'We'll use different fonts to avoid confusion. Mine will be in bold.'

  'Why not mine?' he said, challenging.

  'Because reality has to be paramount. The reader needs a structure and I'm providing it. You can be in italics if you want.'

  'No, I'll stay upright. It's easier on the eye.'

  With that settied, Naomi got him back on track. 'Where does the story go next? Have you thought of a reason why the other fires are started?'

  'It's got to be Jason covering his tracks. He's heard about Maurice being arrested and the whole thing about the circle. He panics a bit over Maurice. You see, he has a conscience and doesn't want someone else to go down for the crime he committed.'

  'That's all right - except you can't use Maurice's real name. Don't want to run the risk of libel.'

  'You just said it was all right to mention Blacker.'

  'That's because he's dead. You can't libel the dead. Never mind for now. We'll think of another name later. Go on. I'm hooked on this.'

  'Jason finds out who the secretary of the circle is and makes the call to Miss Snow asking her to meet him at the boat house.'

  'Why?'

  'To make it obvious someone other than Maurice is the arsonist. But instead of Miss Snow, Bob Naylor shows up. Jason panics, thinking they must be on to him. He slams the door on Naylor and sets fire to the place. Naylor escapes through the roof, so no one is hurt.'

  'You've really thought about this,' Naomi said with admiration. 'Now, what about the fire at Miss Snow's house?'

  'That's Jason again,' Zach said. 'He's under tremendous pressure by this time because he made that call and he knows all the recent callers can be traced.'

  'Why didn't he think of that before he made the call?'

  Zach gave a shrug. 'Carelessness? This isn't a foolproof plot yet. So he decides to set her place on fire. He's in the clear and the spotlight shifts to the circle.'

  'Not bad,' Naomi said. 'A few loose ends want tightening up, but you'll get there.'

  'I'm not used to writing crime stories.'

  'I said you'll get there,' she said with a touch of petulance.

  'Okay. Are you going to tell me how you've been getting on?'

  'You can read it on ChichesterMurderDetectives.com.'

  'You're not putting everything on there, are you?'

  She had a special smile for that question. 'Most of it.' She paused and looked to make sure they were not overheard. 'One thing I may not make public'

  'What's that?'

  'I've got a mole.'

  'A what?'

  'A mole.'

  Zach didn't know how to respond. Alarm bells sounded in his head. She'd taken her hand away from his, but her hormones had to be churning wildly. If she offered to show him the mole, he wasn't sure what he'd say.

  'I said I've got a mole.'

  'I heard you.'

  'Don't you want to know where?'

  'Tell me, then.'

  'In the MIT.'

  'Ah.' He nodded as if a mole in the MIT was a common complaint.

  You don't understand, do you? MIT is Murder Investigation Team. I've got a contact in the police station.'

  Relieved, he heard himself say, 'Brilliant.' Then he added, 'Who?'

  "You don't need to know. But I'll tell you this, Zach. There's a woman heading the investigation now and she's an ace detective specially brought in. Her name is Hen Mallin. She's already arranged for Maurice to be released.'

  'That's good.'

  She shook her head. 'Not good.'

  'Why?'

  'It means the rest of us are under the spotlight.'

  Zach moistened his lips.

  Naomi said, 'We're all going to be interrogated in the next twenty-four hours.'

  'Christ'

  'Yes, DCI Mallin is a tough lady. She knows about the photo of Blacker and the other man.'

  'How can she?' His eyes bulged. 'I've got it at home.'

  'They always take a video of the crime scene. It was still hanging on the wall at the time.'

  'We'd better hand it in.'

  'No. That would make you and me the prime suspects.'

  'It's withholding evidence. They can do us for that.'

  'We'll take that risk,' Naomi said with calm determination. 'Just make sure it's well hidden in case they search your place.'

  He was stunned. 'Would they?'

  'Is there somewhere at work you could keep it?'

  'Maybe - but I don't
like the sound of this one bit. Can I give it back to you?'

  'No,' she said. 'They could find my fingerprints at the scene. You've got no connection with the picture. It's better if it stays with you. Keep your nerve, Zach. This isn't the biggest crime in the world. I was starting to tell you about my discoveries. Remember I was going to check up on Bob Naylor?'

  He gave a faint nod. He was trying to think of places in the MVC shop to hide the photo. Behind an Elton John poster?

  'He's a Parcel Force driver. Lives with his fourteen-year-old daughter. His wife died four or five years ago. I haven't discovered why he came to the circle, except he may be looking for companionship. He doesn't seem to have written anything. Can't even use a computer.'

  He heard himself say, 'Neither could Dickens.'

  'What?'

  'Charles Dickens.' He'd spoken off the top of his head, but it felt good to get one over Naomi. 'You can write a novel with a pencil and paper if you want.'

  'Naylor doesn't look anything like a writer to me.'

  'We don't all have beards and bow ties. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt.'

  'He seems to have struck up a pretty strong friendship with Thomasine.'

  'She's a friendly sort.'

  'No question of that,' Naomi said with a toss of the head. 'We've all heard her erotic poems.'

  'Are you saying Bob has some other motive?'

  'In the absence of any literary aspirations, quite possibly. Why does the man join a writers' circle if he talks like a bricklayer?'

  'That's bitchy,' Zach said.

  'What did you say?'

  'Snobbish, then.'

  'Not at all. He's behaving suspiciously. He sits there taking it all in and volunteers nothing. If my first thought is correct, and he just wants to pair off with a woman, a circle like ours is a good place to find one. But if he's getting privileged information about us, then we'd better watch out, all of us.'

  'But you proposed him for press rep.'

  'And for a reason, to get him into the open, see what he's really like. He can't go on acting the ingenue if we thrust him in front of the media. They'll get behind the mask.'

  'You don't think he's the arsonist?'

  'One of us is, and he's the one we know least about.'

  Zach thought about that and took a sip of coffee. 'We don't know much about some of the others. Sharon, the hairdresser.'

  Naomi said, 'Her?' in a tone of contempt.

  'She says even less than Bob Naylor. The typical dumb blonde. What does she get out of the circle?'

  'Perfecting her communication skills?' Naomi said.

  Another bitchy remark, Zach thought, but this time he only said, 'That's a laugh.'

  'There's scope for improvement.'

  'She did tell us about this comic strip she's going to be working on. That was a surprise.'

  'Diversionary tactics? I forget what we were discussing at the time, but it stopped us all in our tracks. Now why would a pretty little airhead like that take up arson?'

  Zach looked across the room to see if anyone had overheard. He said in little more than a whisper, 'Is this going onto our website? It's a bit strong for publication, isn't it?'

  'I'm not accusing anyone. I'm keeping an open mind, simply recording everything people do and say, including the police.'

  He held up both thumbs in approval.

  She said, 'I was telling you we're all going to be questioned. You'll find a message on your answerphone summoning you to a special meeting tomorrow night.'

  'What if I'm busy?'

  She shook her head. 'We should both be there, Zach. We don't want to draw any more attention to ourselves. And you may be sure the killer will be there for the same reason.'

  16

  www.ChichesterMurderDetectives.com

  Welcome to our website, created by Naomi Green and Zach Beale. Share in this unique project, the writing of a real crime e-book by two authors currently under investigation for murder. Read that again if you like. It is true. We are suspects in the Chichester arson attacks and also members of the writers' circle that is the focus of these crimes. We will give the inside account. You can read our work in progress, case notes, character studies and plot ideas essential to the creation of a book.

  To learn more, left-click on any of the following:

  • About ourselves

  • Fires 1, 2 and 3

  • Victims

  • Suspects

  • Latest developments

  You chose Suspects. For legal reasons, their identities are encrypted. Not one of us has a decent alibi. You don't, when the murders take place at night. As if it's a beauty contest, I'll announce them in reverse order.

  11. Yours truly

  Well, it's not me.

  10. Zed

  He's my collaborator in this e-book and I've seen enough of him to satisfy myself he's not the arsonist. He was the only person to get unqualified encouragement from Blacker - 'a major work of the imagination . . . the new Tolkien'.

  9. The Chair

  He was in custody when Fires 2 and 3 happened, so it's not him.

  8. Greenfingers

  My husband doesn't have the guts, and aside from that he had no quarrel with Blacker. He's not a serious writer.

  7. Blondie

  Though present at Blacker's talk, she submitted no work, and so received no criticism. Reveals almost nothing about herself except that she was commissioned to do a strip cartoon for the local rag. She doesn't hack it as a writer, or a possible killer.

  6. Parcel Force

  As a newcomer, he has to be regarded with suspicion, but wasn't present at Blacker's talk and apparently never met the man. Unlikely to have caused the fire at the boat house unless his version of events is a lie and a distraction. Brash, opportunistic and doesn't have the makings of a writer or an arsonist.

  5. Archdeacon's Lady

  A dark horse, obsessed by status, ready to faint from shock if anyone uses a four-letter word, but secretly lusting for the Chair. Nose put out of joint by Blacker rejecting her book of tips as old-fashioned. Capable of starting fires.

  4. Nitpicker

  Weird - and thinks he's wonderful. Treats the circle as a shooting party, picking off cliches like game birds. I've heard he does strange things on his computer. He'd be top of this list if he had a more obvious motive. But he offered no manuscript, so didn't get the rebuff from Blacker.

  3. Passionella

  Another of the Chair's groupies, and a tireless writer of steamy romances. No stranger to rejections, she had her hopes raised this time, then dashed when she revealed how many of her scripts have landed back on her doormat. Was Blacker's 'I'll have to consult a colleague' the last straw? All those years of disappointment have to find an outlet.

  2. Schoolmistress

  Does her damnedest to be loved by one and all, so was the first to reel in Parcel Force the evening he turned up, and that's always been the pattern. Wears her faults on her sleeve, drinks too much and smokes too many, and delights in parading her libido in her poems. Men fall for it every time. And now she visits us in our homes, trying to solve the mystery. Methinks she doth protest too much.

  1. Welshman

  An attention-seeker with a vindictive streak. Had the biggest putdown of all by Blacker, not even getting his self-serving trash discussed in front of us. For a man of Welshman's self-importance, that was below the belt. We don't know what was said when he finally got his script back, but it wasn't complimentary for sure. When the Chair was pulled in by the police, Welshman was all too eager to cast him as the arsonist. Then there's this insurance connection. It may amount to nothing, but I intend to find out.

  YOU ARE VISITOR [347] TO THIS SITE

  17

  What is Charity ? A monk's cloak. Why f Because it covers a multitude of sins.

  Erasmus, Responsio ad Alhertum Pium (1529)

  Hen took DC Shilling with her to the women's refuge instead of Stella. 'Poor souls don't get the chance t
o look at a man from one week to another,' she told Stella. 'One this size should do them a power of good. Let them know we're not a shrinking police force.'

  The place was on the east side of the city on the Oving Road. They could have walked it in fifteen minutes, but Hen never walked anywhere when a car was available. On the drive out, she chatted to Shilling about nothing in particular and realised he was more than just a hunk. She liked his quirky humour. When she rang the doorbell and there was no immediate answer, he said, 'Do you want me to hoof the door in, guv?'

  'It's a refuge.'

  'Make 'em feel at home, won't it?'

  A window opened above them and a woman leaned out and said, 'Who are you?'

  Hen called up, 'Police,' and flashed her ID, even though it would be hard to see from upstairs. 'Show them yours,' she told her towering assistant. 'It's not me they're scared of.'

  'Oh, dear,' the woman said, 'are we in trouble again? Just a minute.'

  The door was opened by the public spirit of Chichester personified, dressed in a pink suit and white blouse with a ruff. She was Mrs Courtney-Andrews, she said, and they had to be careful about visitors. She gave Shilling a wary look.

  When she'd shown them into the office she explained that it was policy to open their doors to anyone in trouble - anyone female and grown-up - and this was always leading to difficulties with the authorities. 'We used to get more visits from you - the police, I mean - when our intake was only battered wives. These days it's the immigration people asking about asylum seekers.'

  'Illegals,' DC Shilling said.

  'Not in every case.'

  'They're the ones who interest immigration.'

  'Plenty about,' Hen said.

  'Well, yes, and most of them are desperate, poor souls. It's a double bind, isn't it? They can't ask for asylum unless they're in the country and the only way most of them can get in is illegally. They arrive in lorries and containers -well, I don't have to tell you, inspector. We don't turn them away.'

  'And you don't turn them in,' Shilling said.

  'Not when they've got this far, but we make it clear that they can't stay for long. We feed them up and give them any urgent medical treatment they need and send them on their way.'