‘So I’m free to say no, am I?’
‘I thought you already had done!’
‘And that makes no difference?’
‘Well, I’m very disappointed, and I hope you’ll reconsider. Would you like another glass of wine?’
‘Do you think another glass would make me change my mind?’
‘It might!’
‘And it might not!’
‘I’ll take a chance on that! But I really would like you to change your mind.’
‘Why?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Because I’d like to make love to you…’
‘But why?’
‘Why does any man want to make love to a woman?’
‘I don’t know. You tell me…’
‘Because he thinks she’s nice-looking and he fancies her something rotten!’
‘That’s lust. You said you wanted to make love to me!’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Lust is purely physical. Love implies tenderness…’
‘And how do you know I wouldn’t be tender to you? I’ll be as tender as you like!’
‘No, you won’t!’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because you won’t get a chance. You won’t get anywhere near my bed!’
‘Have another drink…’
‘No, thank you. I think I’ve had enough. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you either!’
‘Oh go on, we could have a lot of fun…’
‘You might, but I certainly wouldn’t! The answer’s no, and the answer’s going to remain no! I’m going to bed – and you’re not invited!’
Michael tried to delay her departure, reminding her, for instance, that they hadn’t yet had anything to eat, and in fact they continued wrangling for another half hour, but Tracey’s answer was still no, and finally she managed to escape to her room, and, she believed, relative safety. But Michael was not easily deterred, and it was not long before she heard a tapping at her bedroom door, which she greeted with a cry of, ‘Go away, Michael, I’m going to bed – on my own!’
After a while, however, she started to feel distinctly peckish, and she contacted Room Service to order a sandwich. Even so, she had not yet succeeded in ridding herself of Michael’s attentions, for when her sandwiches arrived, he was still lurking in the corridor just outside her bedroom door.
Even after that she found the telephone ringing every quarter of an hour or so, but she decided to ignore it, convinced that it was Michael, a suspicion that was later confirmed when her mobile too started to ring, and this time, of course, her phone revealed the identity of the caller. Still the calls continued until just after midnight, at which point Michael appeared to have got the message at last, for the calls ceased.
When he eventually went to bed, Michael went straight to sleep rather than fretting about his inability to persuade Tracey to share her bed with him, but he had, of course, had quite a lot to drink over the course of the evening, so that is not particularly surprising. It was not very long before he was awoken once more, however, for the phone starting ringing at about two o’clock.
He reached out to answer the bedside phone, said ‘Hello’, but there was nobody on the other end. It was only when he became conscious that a phone was still ringing that he realised that he had answered the wrong phone: the call was on his mobile. His first thought was that Tracey might have changed her mind and was about to invite him to join her, but when he picked up the mobile he found that the call was from a number that he did not recognise. Even so, he accepted the call and said ‘Hello?’ once more.
‘Are you listening?’ said a woman’s voice which sounded rather familiar, but which he could not place.
‘Yes,’ he replied automatically.
‘This is very important,’ said the voice. ‘I did not call the police. It was your family that called the police.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ he demanded, but there was no reply, for the caller had terminated the call.
Despite the enigmatic nature of the message he had just received, Michael was soon fast asleep again, for he had been too full of alcohol to take in much of what was happening, and the next thing he knew, there was somebody hammering on his bedroom door. He looked at the clock and saw that it was seven o’clock. He dragged himself out of bed, put on his dressing gown and went to open the door. There he found himself being confronted by a policewoman in uniform, and two men in civilian clothes. ‘Are you Michael Davenport?’ the policewoman asked.
‘Yes, I am,’ he replied. ‘What do you want?’
Michael’s three visitors held up their warrant cards, to indicate that they were all members of the police force, and one of the men said, ‘I am Detective Inspector Clarke, this is Police Sergeant Williams, and this is Policewoman Buchanan. We are investigating some allegations of sexually inappropriate behaviour.’
‘What has that got to do with me?’ asked Michael, puzzled.
‘That’s exactly what we want to find out,’ said the inspector, ‘and another colleague, Policewoman Bannister, will be joining us in a moment – oh, here she is.’
Michael’s eyes followed the direction in which the inspector was pointing, and, to his utter amazement, he saw Tracey coming towards them. What’s more, she too was brandishing a police warrant card, and holding something in her other hand which looked like a mobile phone.
‘I think you know Policewoman Bannister already, don’t you, sir?’
‘I didn’t realise she was a policewoman though,’ Michael growled.
‘I suggest that we move into your room, Mr Davenport, unless you would like our conversation to be overheard by the general public.’
Michael nodded, and they all went into his room, whereupon the Detective Inspector continued: ‘We would just like you to listen to this, Mr Davenport. Go ahead, Policewoman Bannister.’
Tracey flicked a switch on the little tape recorder she had been holding in her left hand, and this is what Michael heard:
‘Yes, I noticed that you were fairly free with your hands…’
‘Ouch!’
‘Does it hurt if I make comments like that?’
‘Not really. I was just joking.’
‘So what do you want from me? Do you want to get me into bed?’
‘Yes, please!’
‘Well, I’m sorry, but the answer’s no!’
As Michael heard his own words and Tracey’s responses being replayed to him, he went pale.
‘Are you denying that that is your voice and that of Policewoman Bannister?’ said the inspector.
‘No, but I didn’t realise she was a policewoman.’
‘Would it have made any difference, sir?’
‘Yes, of course!’
‘Why?’
‘I would have known better than to say something like that to a policewoman!’
‘I don’t believe it should make any difference! To be honest, it doesn’t sound to me like the sort of thing you should be saying to any woman! Would you like to hear some more? We’ve got the whole conversation…’
‘No, I don’t want to hear any more. This is entrapment, that’s what it is!’
‘I don’t think so, sir. Especially not when we’re responding to a number of complaints.’
‘What complaints?’
‘Complaints from girls who were afraid they’d lose their jobs if they didn’t accept your lewd propositions!’
‘What girls?’
‘You’ll find out when we get back to the station, sir.’
‘But I’ve got a business appointment at 10 o’clock. I can’t go to the station!’
‘Yes, you’ve got an appointment with Policewoman Tracey Bannister, haven’t you? She’ll be there at the station too, don’t worry, so you won’t miss your appointment!’
‘I think your policing methods are disgraceful, inspector!’
‘And I think the way you treat your female employees is disgraceful too, sir,
but I don’t expect you will agree with me!’
‘It’s only her word you’ve got to go on though, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s not. You heard yourself part of the recording she made, and she recorded the whole of the conversation. We have statements from some other young women too, and they all report remarkably similar conversations to the one that Policewoman Bannister recorded last night.’
‘Oh, do they really? And how many statements do you reckon you’ve got?’ Michael asked defiantly.
‘Eight.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said we have eight, sir. There are eight women who have submitted complaints to the company, which is why they called us in.’
‘That’s a bit underhand, I must say! Why didn’t the company ask me about it before calling the police?’
‘Because of the seriousness of some of the charges, sir. They include three accusations of rape.’
‘Rape? I’ve never raped anyone in my life!’
‘The conversation Policewoman Bannister recorded last night tells me you had rape very much in mind! And that would have made four.’
‘That wouldn’t have been rape! Rape is violent! I wouldn’t have been violent. I wouldn’t have hurt her. That was the last thing I had in mind!’
‘Rape isn’t necessarily violent, sir, it’s simply a question of insisting on having sex when the woman has said no. Now would you say, Mr Davenport, that you would have taken any notice if any of these girls had said no to your sexual advances?’
‘Of course I would! But of course a lot of girls say no at first! And then they usually change their minds when you get started!’
‘Oh, do they, sir? I wouldn’t know.’
‘Look, inspector… These girls work for me, I regard them as my family… I wouldn’t hurt any of them!’
‘Your family, eh? I seem to have heard that expression before somewhere. Play your other recording, Tracey.’
Policewoman Bannister pressed the switch on her recorder again, and Michael heard the words he had heard in the night: ‘This is very important. I did not call the police. It was your family that called the police.’
Michael turned to Tracey and said, ‘I thought that voice sounded familiar! But I didn’t recognise your mobile number when I accepted the call, and I never dreamed it was you!’
‘I have two mobiles. And no, you wouldn’t have recognised my voice because you hadn’t been listening to me properly, had you, right from the very beginning? But then you never listen to anything a young woman says, do you, especially when she says no!’
‘I didn’t mean you any harm, Tracey! Please believe me!’ Michael pleaded with a whimper.
‘Just get some clothes on, Mr Davenport, and we’ll go down to the station,’ said the inspector. ‘And you may make one phone call before we go. I suggest you call your solicitor.’
‘Can I call my wife too?’ asked Michael.
‘Frankly, I don’t really recommend your calling your wife, sir, because I don’t think you’d find her very sympathetic. We’ve already spoken to her, so she does know all about it, and, off her own bat, she said she wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if you had raped all those girls. Come on, get dressed and we’ll be off.’
‘I think I’d like to speak to her even so,’ replied Michael, whereupon the Detective Inspector relented, and allowed him to make two calls before leaving the hotel. He contacted a lawyer first, then called his wife.
‘I thought you’d be the last person I would hear from this morning!’ she said, on hearing his voice. ‘Have you heard anything from the police?’
‘Yes, they’re here now, and they said I could phone you if I wanted.’
‘I’m surprised you wanted to speak to me, given what you’ve been up to! But I’m glad you did call, because I wanted to tell you that when you come home I shall only allow you into the house to collect your belongings. This is the last straw, Michael, and I’m going to divorce you!’
‘Oh, please, Janice, don’t do that! What shall I do?’
‘You can do whatever you please,’ she replied. ‘I don’t care what you do! I’m sure one of those floozies you’ve been hob-nobbing with for God knows how long will take pity on you! But I certainly won’t! I’ve had enough!’
‘I’m sorry, Janice,’ Michael began to say, but she cut him short.
‘I just can’t understand how I was taken in by a man like you! You’re disgusting!’
‘Just tell me this,’ Michael pleaded. ‘How did you know that the police were involved?’
‘Because they came to see me.’
‘When?’
‘Last Friday.’
‘But that was before I even came up to the Lake District! Why didn’t you say anything about it to me?’
‘Because the police told me not to, because they were planning to set a trap for you, I suppose, and they didn’t want to ruin their chances of catching you. I don’t blame them either! You’re an absolute rat!’
‘Do either of our girls know about it?’
‘Not at the moment, no. But I expect they will do soon, because if there’s a court case, there’s going to be a lot of publicity, and they’re bound to find out! I just hope you haven’t tried it on with either of them! Have you?’
‘How can you even think of asking a question like that! Of course I haven’t! I’m not that sort of man.’
‘What sort of man are you then? A pretty disgusting one by the sound of it! How could you treat all those young girls like that! I can’t bear to think about it! There’s only one thing you’ve ever been interested in as far as women were concerned, and that’s self-gratification. Goodbye! This is the last time you’ll ever speak to me.’ Then she put down the phone.
As soon as Michael had finished speaking to his wife, the door opened, the Inspector reappeared, and saw Michael in floods of tears.
‘I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea of yours to ring your wife, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t expect anything quite like that! She even went as far as to suggest that I might have interfered with my daughters…’
‘I’m not surprised either, sir, given what you have been up to!’
‘But I wouldn’t have done anything to them! Oh, God, what have I done with my life!’ And he started crying again.
‘Come on, sir. I’ve got to take you to the station.’ And Michael, still in tears, meekly accompanied the policeman out of the hotel, was pushed roughly into the police car, and they drove to the station.
At the police station Michael was led into an interview room where he waited alone for half an hour until his solicitor arrived, after which DI Clarke and Policewoman Buchanan joined them and the interview began – such as it was, for, following the advice of his solicitor, Michael answered hardly any of the questions asked. So Inspector Clarke read out to him extracts of the statements made by some of the women who had complained about his behaviour, and then formally charged him with having raped three women and having sexually assaulted five others; in the afternoon he appeared at Keswick Magistrate’s Court. Given the seriousness of the charges he was remanded in custody awaiting a County Court appearance. Within half an hour he received a phone call from his boss informing him that he had been dismissed from his job; three months later he was sent to prison for five years.
‘Well,’ said Margaret, when she had finished reading David’s latest story, ‘I wasn’t expecting anything like that! What an odious character he turned out to be! Still, I suppose there must be some people like that in the world. But I didn’t expect that when I started reading the story — he came across as a pleasant, very affable character!’
‘Well, yes, of course he did,’ replied David, ‘I should imagine anybody who behaves like he did would normally give a good first impression, otherwise all those women wouldn’t be taken in by him! I mean, if slimy, odious characters gave themselves away at first glance, they wouldn’t get anywhere, would they?’
‘I expect my solicitor would advise me to refuse to answer a question like that!’ said David, laughing. ‘But I do have a good imagination – otherwise I wouldn’t be able to be a writer! And when you come to think of it, I’ve written loads and loads of murder stories, but you’ve never suspected me of being a secret assassin, have you?’
‘I suppose not,’ replied Margaret, ‘but then I’ve never met a murderer!’
‘How do you know? Murderers, rapists, blackmailers, confidence tricksters, they must all depend on presenting a respectable front to their victims. That’s one reason why their crimes are so odious!’
‘I guess you’re right! But that’s quite a worrying thought – I may never trust anyone who’s outwardly respectable again!’
‘Quite right too!’ replied her husband.
‘And now I expect you’re going to start planning your next story – I hope it doesn’t worry me as much as that one did! Promise that it won’t!’
‘I have absolutely no idea what it’s going to involve,’ said David, ‘you’ll just have to wait and see! You were complaining that I’d invented a nasty woman for last week’s story, and so this week I chose to invent a nasty man, just to keep the balance! The important thing is whether the story does its job, and fits in with the set of imagined scenarios…’
‘Oh yes, it does that all right, it’s very convincing. And I like the variation on the phone call as well – it was quite ingenious to have it coming from a member of the police force too!’
Chapter Four
On the first day of the following week, David began work on his next story. As they had breakfast, Margaret said to him, ‘What are you planning to write about this week then?’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ he replied.
‘Really?’
‘Really! I haven’t even started to think about it!’
‘But you told me when you first started on this project that your mind was absolutely full of ideas!’
‘So it was! But sometimes, when you start examining what appeared to be a promising idea for a story, you find that your idea doesn’t really work.’
At Dead of Night Page 7
