by Paul Charles
‘Do I have an alibi?’ Green laughed. ‘Well, no, unfortunately not. I hardly want to get spotted by the fans so, over the years, I found ways of disappearing into the woodwork for those ten minutes every night.’
‘And no one saw you that evening during the band break?’
‘As I said,’ Green replied, standing up, drawing the interview to a close, ‘I have found a way of being there without anyone knowing it. It gives me the freedom to check out the sound in the house and how well the band is doing. However, in this instance, it also means I don’t have an alibi.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘So, what do we have?’
It was time to regroup in Kennedy’s office and review the information they had amassed so far. Not a lot, Kennedy imagined. It was coming up to twenty-four hours since the murder and it wasn’t that they hadn’t made much progress, no, Kennedy mused, it was more a case that they hadn’t even left the starting blocks.
Kennedy’s team sat in his rectangular office – Irvine, Coles, Allaway and Lundy. There were already a few photographs on the noticeboard, showing the body from various angles in the dressing room at Dingwalls Dancehall. The name Wilko Robertson was handwritten underneath. Kennedy had also put up the publicity handout photograph of Circles. The space on the felt board, usually reserved for suspects, was as green and uncluttered as an Ulster pasture. For a few moments no one spoke. Finally, Irvine stood up, walked over to the tea area, helped himself to a fresh cup and began the conversation.
‘It would seem to me that, if the roles had been reserved and Sean Green had been found dead, our prime suspect would be Wilko Robertson.’
‘True, true. Does this tell us anything?’ Kennedy asked. He was all for looking at things upside down, but he wasn’t sure Irvine had a direction with his thinking.
‘Well, if our murderer was aware of this perhaps they thought it might have thrown some dust over their own tracks,’ Irvine struggled on.
‘What’s with all that locked-door stuff?’ Coles threw into the conversation.
‘Yes, indeed. What good could it possibly do to lock the door from the inside?’ Kennedy mused.
‘A smokescreen, perhaps?’ Irvine offered.
‘But,’ Coles cut in, ‘what advantage would that give the murderer?’
‘I suppose the main advantage has to be that we are being encouraged to consider more how the murder was committed, rather than who may have committed it,’ Kennedy replied. ‘Oh, Lundy, do us a favour. Why don’t you do the honours for the rest of us with the tea, you know how everybody likes it by now.’
Lundy looked like he was about to offer some protest but chose instead to sullenly go about his new duties.
‘So you’re suggesting we forget about how it was done and concentrate on who did it?’ Irvine asked.
‘Not entirely, no,’ Kennedy began. ‘Just don’t get so lost in the method that we lose sight of everything else. Okay, let’s look at what we have. One possibility is that Kevin “KP” Paul did it. He simply staged the locked door after breaking in and murdering Wilko. Now, I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t feel that KP is our man. No more than a feeling at this stage and they’ve been wrong before but I feel he’s an okay guy, maybe even a good guy.’
‘But are you saying that just because someone is a good guy he can’t commit a murder?’ Coles enquired.
They all considered this point for a time before Coles continued, ‘What do we know about Wilko…? He was in a very successful group, sold lots of records, toured the world, sold out concerts, liked to drink, enjoyed the company of women, spent a lot of money, gambled a bit, did some drugs…’
‘Where did it all go wrong?’ Irvine said, part in jest, part in regret.
‘Okay,’ Kennedy interrupted, ‘we need to find out about his missing years. We need to find out why he left the group and why he returned. We need to speak to his wife. At this stage he’s just a dead, washed-up rock star. Even his partner Sean seems to have concluded his mourning. Let’s find out from his solicitor exactly what shape his finances are in. Let’s find out if he owed any money and, if so, how much and to whom. Let’s find his mates and see what kind of a chap he was. Let’s put some flesh on his bones. See if he owed someone a lot of money, either for gambling or for drugs – both can be dangerous to your health. Find Wilko’s wife. All we know is that she called her sister to come and comfort her when she heard the news. We need to find this woman. Let’s check in again and follow up all leads. Can I leave you two,’ Kennedy looked at Lundy and Allaway, ‘to track her down this evening?’
‘But I’ve got a…’ Lundy began, but thought better of it. ‘Yes, that’s fine.’
‘You and I will see her first thing in the morning,’ Kennedy continued, addressing Coles. ‘I feel we’re getting behind on this one already.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Queens bar and restaurant was packed to overflowing on the cold Friday evening. As late as September, the Queens, at its busiest, was never packed because all the clientele would spill out onto the street where Primrose Hill Road cuts into Regent’s Park Road. In the summer months the first-floor restaurant opens out onto a balcony affording a wonderful view of Primrose Hill itself.
Kennedy and ann rea had spent many a moonlit night on the very same balcony watching the world go by. Those were the best times for Kennedy. Until he found Primrose Hill, he never thought he would find anywhere in London that enjoyed a small-village type of street life. Equally, he never thought he would find someone as perfect for him as ann rea. Primrose Hill he could enjoy forever and it would ask for nothing in return. ann rea, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether. She hadn’t disappeared from his life completely – sometimes Kennedy felt it would be better for him if she would – but nonetheless he’d lost her. It had all started off so well. He felt immediately, from the first sighting at Heathrow, that ann rea was his soulmate for life. The minute he looked into her impish brown eyes he knew she was the one. This certainty proved to be his undoing, because it was this confidence that gave rise to ann rea’s worries. It was his sureness that drove her away. Funny how your strength sometimes works to your own disadvantage. Tonight, together again in the Queens, there was no friction between them at all. Had Kennedy already given up, he wondered? Had ann rea? It had always been more than sex for Kennedy. It had always been love. He looked at her now across the table, smiling, relaxed, comfortable, glass of white wine in her hand and no apparent problems. She was smiling that smile that could, and did, turn heads at every table in the Queens. She was dressed in black slacks, a white silk blouse and a black Matador waist-length jacket that Kennedy had never seen before. She was stunning, simply stunning. She could have done him a favour, Kennedy thought. She could have looked haggard, in ill-fitting clothes and maybe toned down the smile just a bit. It seemed that being single suited ann rea. Kennedy would have preferred not to admit this to himself but it was so blatantly true.
‘You’re looking great, Kennedy. The single life seems to agree with you,’ ann rea remarked jovially, after they’d chosen their meal. Cumberland sausage and mash, without the onions and gravy for Kennedy, with the onions and gravy for ann rea.
‘Funny you should say that. You’re no tramp yourself.’
She laughed, took a sip of wine and continued. ‘Hey, Kennedy, what can I tell you? I’m happy. I’m so happy I didn’t even read my horoscope this morning and I’ve been looking forward to this meal all day.’
‘Ah, but there’s something more,’ Kennedy continued, as he topped up their glasses with a cheap, cheerful and crisp Bergerac.
‘Well it’s odd. But recently, while pottering around in my own doom, gloom and darkness, I saw an interview Francis Ford Coppola did quite a time ago. They were talking about the badness in people and what it does to them and Coppola said “If, in life, you put yourself in harmony with things you will get much better results than if you go against them”. So, that’s what I’ve been trying to do.
Put myself in harmony with things. I’ve been going against the grain for too long and it’s been getting me nowhere fast. So, here’s to harmony,’ ann rea said, as she raised her glass.
‘To harmony,’ Kennedy toasted.
The conversation inevitably worked its way around to the murder of Wilko Robertson.
‘Have you any idea why Wilko left Circles in the first place?’ Kennedy asked once they got into it.
‘Oh, absolutely. He thought the band was finished, which they were. He didn’t want to go down with them. But it’s funny, when partnerships like that split up, you get to see who is responsible for what. And it would appear that Sean was the one in the driving seat. Sure, as lead singer, Wilko got all the glory and all the credit. But when Wilko left, he figured that the band would split, and from their ashes he could start his own career. But Sean merely replaced him and moved into another gear. From what I hear that’s when the real money was made.’
‘Yeah, Leslie Russell has given me a bit of a background on all the deals. But Wilko did okay out of all the deals as well though, didn’t he?’
‘Well, he didn’t do great compared to Sean. However, I understand he didn’t leave penniless. The truth is, if Wilko hadn’t left, they’d probably still be just another band plodding around on that chicken-and-chips-in-a-basket circuit, hoping for a comeback along with another hundred or so refugee bands from the seventies. And the nicest thing we can say about Circles is that they wouldn’t have been near the top of the list of groups in line for a break.’
‘Who’d have been the top of the list, Elvis?’
‘Presley? He’s never been out of favour to be honest. All his early stuff is so brilliant and didn’t he just look so beautiful in the early days?’
‘Well he certainly could sing, but no I meant the other one,’ Kennedy replied, he found it difficult to refer to men as beautiful.
‘The other one? Nah, no chance. He lost his attraction when the band left and he got to be just a wee bit too desperate if you ask me.’
‘Not as desperate as Pauley Valentini though?’ Kennedy said smiling at the memory.
‘I don’t know about that. Anyway, as it happened, Wilko went off into obscurity. I think he’d a few false starts and nothing really got off the ground for him.’
‘How long was he out of the group?’
‘Must be about six years,’ ann rea guessed.
‘Long time to go without an income. Could he have been rich enough?’
‘Probably not, although I believe he made a few bob out of the greatest hits package. You see, there’s another thing. That was so successful, it moved the band into another league. Set them aside from all the rest. And the new singer, Wilko’s replacement, was good.’
‘I must admit, I was surprised at how a band who’d being going for so long could just change singers and carry on like nothing happened,’ Kennedy said, as he ordered another bottle of wine. ‘Why did it work for them?’
‘Well, you couldn’t really see the join. Close your eyes, listen to the vocals, there’s not much difference. Same voice, different face.’
‘Why then did Wilko go back to Circles?’ Kennedy pushed.
‘I hear he needed the money. His attempt at a solo career had fallen flat on its face and he needed to do something fast. He wasn’t going to get many more chances outside of Circles.’
‘Okay here’s another one for you. Why did Sean Green take Wilko back into the band?’
‘That’s a much more interesting question altogether. I wondered about that too. There doesn’t seem to be an upside to it. He had it all going his own way. He controlled the band. They were on a financial high. Sean must have been smart enough to realise that Circles were never ever going to have a creative comeback. Maybe he’s just a good guy and he was repaying an earlier debt to the singer who was now down on his luck. Maybe he’s a control freak, the temptation of having Wilko back in as a humble wage earner in what was now Sean’s band was just too great a chance to pass up. Maybe one of the other band members, or KP, or Leslie Russell campaigned to get him back in the band. But believe me Kennedy, that is the most interesting question in all of this. If you can find out the answer to that, I think you will be on your way. To where, I’m not sure,’ ann rea added with a smile.
‘Speaking of Leslie Russell…’
‘Yea?’ ann rea replied.
‘Remember when you and I first met him. I think it was about a couple of weeks after our first date. I was talking to him about the school teacher case?’
‘The Cumberland Basin drowning. Yes?’
‘Well do you remember after one of our joint dinners he rang you up and invited you out?’
‘Yes?’ ann rea replied. Kennedy was getting the suspicion that she knew where he was going with this.
‘Well, did he by any chance…’ Kennedy paused to find the words.
‘Did he ring me up again and invite me out, now that you and I are no longer seeing each other?’ ann rea cut to the quick.
‘Well, yes actually.’
‘Ah, Kennedy, you’re so predictable.’
‘And?’
‘Well, he did and he didn’t.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Russell has far too much class to be rejected again. So, he rang up on the pretence of something or other and then got to the subject of you, then of you and I, in a round-about way. He asked how you were doing. He said he’d heard we were no longer stepping out. Asked me if I was seeing anyone else.’
‘And?’ Kennedy prodded hopefully.
‘I told him I wasn’t and I hadn’t planned on starting again.’
‘But that’s absurd.’ Kennedy was thrilled.
‘How so?’
‘Well, at some point you are going to meet someone else and it’s going to happen. There’s no point in trying to ignore that.’
‘Why do all men feel that a woman is always waiting around for the right man to come along, Kennedy?’
‘That’s not what I meant and you know that.’
‘I’m not so sure, Kennedy. In any case, I’m here to tell you that it’s not true. If I’m destined to be by myself that’s fine, I enjoy my own company. I’m now starting to enjoy my life. And here’s the important bit Kennedy. A woman does not need to have a man in her life to be fulfilled and enjoy herself. I have a great life, a great job which I thoroughly enjoy.’ ann rea paused, drained the remainder of her glass of wine and added an, ‘Although…’
‘Although?’
‘You did have your uses.’ ann rea smiled coyly as she watched the waiter refill her empty wine glass.
‘Did?’ Kennedy asked.
‘Do,’ ann rea said with a smile.
‘Dessert?’ the waiter enquired.
‘No,’ ann rea said. ‘No, thank you. We’re going to enjoy our wine for a bit, and then have dessert at his place…’
Twenty-five minutes later, in the warmth and comfort of Kennedy’s bed, the detective and the journalist satisfied another hunger; repeatedly.
‘You know, Christy,’ ann rea began, just as both were about to drift into sleep, ‘I’m not looking for anyone else. I’ve met the best there is. If it isn’t going to work with you it isn’t going to work with anyone. So don’t ever worry about there being someone else.’
Kennedy didn’t hear the end of her sweet whisperings; he was too busy sleeping happily in her arms.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At eight o’clock the following morning, Kennedy quietly crept out of bed, showered and, tip-toeing around his room, dressed. ann rea had quite a bit to drink the previous evening so he decided to let her sleep on. He watched her sleep. He could lie next to her for hours, watching her as she slept.
She could let herself out when she woke; she still had her own set of keys to his house. When they split up, Kennedy had never thought of asking her to return the keys and she’d never offered them. He left a little note saying merely, Talk to you later? Cheers, Christy. He kissed her on the fore
head, ruffled her hair and quietly left his house.
Shortly thereafter, he was out enjoying the peace and tranquillity of Primrose Hill. At eight thirty on a Saturday morning, the hill is nearly always deserted, except for the magpies. Kennedy spotted three. ‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl…’ Mmm, Kennedy thought, was that girl ann rea? What had she been saying to him late last night? He racked his brain but all he could remember was, ‘at this point in her life she had to…’ something or another. Did that mean that perhaps later? He recalled their conversation about Wilko and he remembered, clearly, ann rea advising him that he should try and find out why Sean Green had brought Wilko Robertson back into the band.
They’d made love. My God! He thought. Was ann rea being very clever? Could the thing she’d missed the most, from being separated, be making love to him? Perhaps that was it. So, by sleeping with him last night she was, in a way, helping herself to deal with not having him around. Clever. Typical of ann rea, the detective thought fondly.
He’d reached the borders of Primrose Hill. The closer he got to North Bridge House, the more he thought of his current case and the less he thought of ann rea. Perhaps that was the trick; like a magnet, her power weakened the further he was away from her.
At his desk, he found what he’d hoped would be awaiting him, the current whereabouts of Susan Robertson. He figured it would be about an hour or so before it would be a socially-acceptable time of the day to go visiting the widow. Time to settle down again and work his way gradually into the day. The thought process, he believed, only worked effectively when it was not being pushed or forced into an unnatural overload.
He made notes to himself on whom he felt he needed to interview that day. For some reason, he couldn’t figure out why, he kept getting flashes of Sean Green’s subservient wife, Colette. He reasoned that the flashes must come from the incessant chorus of “Colette Calls” which had been battering his head since the beginning of this case. He’d kept meaning to buy a Circles CD. He was trying to remember some of the lyrics of “Colette Calls”. He was sure he had got one of the verses right:
