by Paul Charles
Pictures with words
In deep shades of blue
I once loved a stranger
I’m told she was you.
Well, yes, pretty obscure. What on earth were they about? Were there any clues out there waiting for him in Circles’ lyrics? He hoped not. When Sean Green wrote I once loved a stranger / I’m told she was you, had he just thrown the you in to rhyme with blue? And who was the you? A few questions there for KP. He’d been around when the lyrics were being written; perhaps he would have a clue what they were all about. Although, those lyrics were written nearly thirty years ago. What could they possibly have to do with this particular murder?
Kennedy found himself, as he brewed up the first cup of tea of the morning, thinking about KP. Now there was a character. Could he possibly have murdered Wilko and then kicked the door in just to give the pretence that when he arrived at the dressing room, the deed was already done?
The telephone rang on his desk. It had been ringing for some time, he realised. He’d been so lost in his thoughts it took him some time to tune into the high-tech purring. God, how he hated all this modern equipment.
‘Hi, Kennedy here.’
‘Oh, hello yourself, Christy. It’s Rose here, Rose Butler.’ She sounded almost apologetic.
‘Hi Rose. Good to hear from you. How are you doing?’
The detective heard a sigh on the other end of the phone. ‘Oh, not too bad. Sorry. Listen, I’m sorry to be bothering you on a Saturday morning but there’s something I need to talk to you about,’ Staff Nurse Rose Butler continued in her soft County Kildare tones, ‘I mean, it’s probably nothing but I need to get it off my chest.’
She and DS James Irvine had dated for quite some time but it hadn’t worked out. Kennedy had been a bit sad about that, he’d felt they were well suited.
‘Fine. As I’m passing the hospital this afternoon, do you want me to drop in for a chat?’
‘Ah. No. I’m not ringing you from the hospital. I’d prefer to meet with you somewhere outside.’
‘Is this urgent, Rose?’
‘Well, I don’t know. It might be.’
Kennedy began sensing that it was. ‘Look I’m off to interview somebody in about twenty minutes. So, why don’t we meet up, say, noon in Camden Town?’
‘Great. That sounds fine,’ the nurse answered.
Kennedy was sure he could hear the relief in her voice. ‘Café Delancey or the Golden Grill?’
‘Oh, the Golden Grill every time, Christy, and we won’t need a reservation. See you there at twelve. Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ Kennedy agreed and wondered what could be upsetting Rose so. If he knew her even just a little, then he knew she wouldn’t be bothering him about nothing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WPC Anne Coles and DI Christy Kennedy left the bustle of Camden Town behind them as Coles cut across the High Street in an unmarked Ford Sierra. They turned into College Street, into Pancras Road and came to a stop in front of the once elegant terrace of Goldington Crescent. The middle house was the home of Wilko Robertson and his wife, Susan. Susan had spent the night at her sister’s in Wimbledon, but decided she’d prefer to be interviewed by the police in her own home.
It was the sister, Tracey, who answered the door. She showed them into the front room where they found a surprisingly-sprightly Susan waiting for them. The widow had done herself up for the police visit. While she wasn’t exactly plump, her dark trouser suit was at least a couple of sizes too small. Her hair was tied back into a thick, unglamorous ponytail. She rose from her sofa to meet them.
Tracey offered them tea or coffee. Coles went for coffee and Kennedy opted for a cup of tea. In the sister’s absence, the police offered Susan their condolences for her loss. Coles could see Kennedy was trying to ascertain how able for questioning the widow was. She seemed, on the surface, to be remarkably together.
Kennedy paced the room, taking in the details. The good room, Coles guessed, used for special occasions. It looked like a show room in a department store catalogue. Blue curtains, three-piece suite and large rug just in front of the fireplace. A teak coffee table and wall unit, but no television or stereo. Most unusual for a musician’s house, the WPC thought.
‘Susan, are you and your sister close?’ Kennedy asked, as he sat.
‘Well, yes. We are really,’ Susan answered, as if considering this for the first time. ‘Wilko was always on tour somewhere and so, over the years, I’d become a bit of a rock widow. When Tracey moved to London she would come stay with me when he was away. She’s always lived in South London. I always thought she should just move in with us. We’ve always had lots of room. Wilko was fine with it but Tracey would say she’d be too embarrassed to bring someone back to her sister’s house. But we are close and I cannot remember a time in my life when we weren’t. We’ve always been close.’
Susan stopped talking and looked at Kennedy, staring directly into his green eyes. Coles thought she appeared to be assessing her senior before imparting some information.
‘This may sound weird to you, I hope it doesn’t. But, having Tracey…let’s just say I’ll get over losing Wilko more quickly because Tracey is around. Are you married?’
‘No,’ Kennedy answered.
‘Yes, well, that’s the thing you see. When you’re a wee girl you dream of getting married and living happily ever after. I know everyone in the world today knows that’s not reality. But I didn’t. I thought Wilko was the reason I’d been born and when I met him my life was complete. To cut a very long story short, it wasn’t, we weren’t. Although we didn’t split-up, we drifted apart, physically and spiritually. I found other things to fill up my life again. To compensate, you know? The reason I’m telling you all of this is because I realise I’m not exactly playing the part of a grieving widow and I just wanted you all to know why.’
‘We all grieve in our own way,’ Kennedy replied with a gentle smile.
‘Refreshments!’ Tracey called as she entered the room, pushing a tea trolley in front of her. The WPC took the time to examine the widow’s sister, and she was sure Kennedy was doing the same. Tracey wore no make-up, had short, cropped hair and quite a sharp-featured face. She wore loose-fitting jeans and a blue k.d. lang sweatshirt. She was at least five years younger than her sister.
‘Could we talk a bit about why Wilko left Circles?’ Kennedy asked once they’d started into the tea.
‘Aye, not exactly the master of perfect timing, was our Wilko.’ Susan smiled at her sister and they both had a laugh. ‘He felt it was all over to be honest. He thought the band was finished. He’d all these people telling him he was the star and Circles needed him more than he needed them and that if he wasn’t careful his career would go down the drain with the band. These people convinced him that he should split and go solo, before it was too late. He listened to them, he went solo and, as they say, the rest is history.’
‘Who were these people?’ Coles asked.
‘Oh, people Sean would have kept Circles away from, but who saw a meal ticket with Wilko. There was a tour manager, he came in after KP left…’
‘Simon…’ her sister cut in.
‘Aye, that’s him. Simple Simon Peddington. He was the worst thing that ever happened to the band. He couldn’t manage a piss-up in a brewery. Anyway, Sean fired him for fiddling the float or something. He’d become a great drinking buddy of Wilko’s and after he was fired he just kept on at Wilko about going solo, until eventually Wilko agreed. He hooked Wilko up with a solicitor, who has since done time for running off with some other client’s money. Get the picture?’
Both Kennedy and Coles nodded.
‘What was the name of that particular solicitor?’ Kennedy enquired.
‘Oh, that’s an easy one. I’ll never forget his name. Slimebag. Richard “call me Richie” Slattery.’
‘So, nothing happened with the solo career then?’ Coles asked.
‘Oh, at first it was brilliant,’ Susan replied. ‘He was
keen as mustard. He’d lots of energy for it. He even put a bit of energy back into our marriage. I suppose in a way, with him and Sean splitting up, it was all very traumatic for Wilkenson. They’d been together longer than Wilko and I had and with all the touring and studio work and rehearsals, they’d certainly spent a lot more time together. So with Wilko leaving Circles, and breaking away from Sean Green, he needed me. But then the breaks didn’t come his way. That was the thing about Sean Green. He knew how to put together a good team of people and took his time to get it right. You would have thought that Wilko would have learnt something being around him all those years. But, no…’
‘But he was the lead singer of a successful group, wouldn’t he automatically have an audience?’ Coles cut in.
‘Well, you have to remember that Circles were on their last legs. It was all but over. Don’t forget, this was before Sean Green turned it all around. Some even said Wilko had been holding him back. When Wilko started to make his record he was making music by committee. The manager wanted one thing, the producer wanted something else. Then the A and R men would show up and they’d want something else. He’d come back here each night and he’d be at his wits end. “Make it longer; shorter; more verses; less verses; get to the hook quicker; get to the hook later; make it faster; make it slower; get a guitar to do what the saxophone is doing; have a saxophone do what the guitar is doing.” You know, things like that and on and on and on and I’d have to listen to it all at three o’clock in the morning. And that was just the A and R people. Then the next night it would be the radio promotion people, and they’d have a totally different set of opinions to express and just as forcefully, mind you. Then the press people, then the sales manager, then the marketing guy…’
‘But you said Wilko didn’t have any hits,’ Coles said, as she considered how comfortably Susan talked about all of this.
‘Yea, if it’s a hit, it’s because of the record company’s executive input. If it flops, it’s because the artist buggered it up. After it had all gone pear-shaped the record company didn’t even want to put out the record.’ Susan stopped speaking and broke into a smile, directed mostly at her sister. ‘You can tell how I’m a rock wid…’
Mrs Robertson stopped mid-sentence.
‘God I’ve just realised, I’ve called myself a rock widow all these years and now I really am!’
Coles thought that Susan was going to lose it and the interview would be over. But she smiled at her sister.
‘At least you won’t turn out like Yoko,’ Tracey said.
‘What, with all the fans hating her?’ Coles felt compelled to ask.
‘No, stinking rich,’ Tracey laughed. ‘With all that money who gives a shit if they hate you or not?’
‘Colette, now she’ll be the Yoko,’ Susan added.
‘Was Wilko well off?’ Kennedy’s turn for a question.
‘Well, he once had a lot of money. I know that. But he’s also spent a lot of it. To be honest, I couldn’t tell you exactly how we stand financially. At the time he left Circles I know we were very flush. We had some money stashed away. Sean gave Wilko a very generous golden handshake when he left the group. He also changed the publishing deal around, I don’t really know how. Wilko tried to explain it to me, but I couldn’t get a grasp of it. I just know he got another cheque and was grinning from ear to ear for at least a week. In a way I felt sorry for Sean around that time. You know, Wilko had left the group and it was looking like Sean’s career was over, but there he was making sure Wilko got his share. Wilko was thinking that Circles were history, they were finished, they were nothing without him. He was grabbing the money out of Sean’s hands as fast as he could.’
‘Was Wilko bitter when Sean took Circles on to greater success?’ Kenned again.
‘I don’t know if bitter would be the correct word. More hurt, you know? His career was being shot down in very expensive flames and Sean comes out smelling of roses. I think for Wilko it was more, “how can he do this so easily without me?” He began to feel bad about himself, I think. The record company turned him down. He even tried to buy back the unreleased album. They wouldn’t sell it to him. Then, believe it or not, his lawyer Slattery rings Wilko up and advises him that he had been able to buy the album back.’ The wife’s disbelief was still evident in her voice, all these years later.
‘What? He bought it back for Wilko?’ Coles asked.
‘No. The bastard had only gone and bought it back for himself and then he’d the cheek to sell it to Wilko at a profit. Wilko bought it from Slattery, spent some more money on it and his manager, Peddington, still couldn’t get a deal for him. Throughout all of this Wilko was still playing the rock star bit, you know, limos everywhere, dining at the Ivy every week, and generally wasting a lot of money. He was also spending quite a bit on the horses at this time.’
‘A lot?’ Kennedy asked.
‘I really don’t know,’ Susan replied. ‘I mean, look. Wilko and me, we had our differences, and we lost whatever it is you are meant to have years ago. Actually, more like a lifetime ago. But he did provide for me. A bit of the Scottish work ethic, you know. He was the man of the house; the breadwinner and he always provided. No matter what shit he was going through financially, emotionally, romantically or chemically, it didn’t matter, he always gave me the housekeeping money. He did have his good points too, you know.’
‘Aye,’ Tracey agreed.
‘You know, I feel really sad now…’ Susan continued.
‘We understand,’ Kennedy said softly.
‘No, no, not like that,’ Susan began. ‘I’m sad that I don’t feel like grieving. It’s like I’ve already been through this, ages ago. I’ve spent so many nights grieving. He’s been gone from my life a long, long time. If Tracey hadn’t been around, goodness, I don’t know what I would have done. But the thing is, I can’t cry over him. I just can’t cry. It might have been different if we had children. I might feel differently then, you know, knowing that they’d lost their dad. But it’s weird. It’s like being released from a long sentence. I suppose I shouldn’t have told you that, I suppose it could be construed as a reason to murder him.’
‘But it’s okay, pet, you couldn’t have. Remember you were with me Thursday night while they played Dingwalls,’ Tracey reminded her sister.
‘Did Wilko talk to you about rejoining Circles?’ Kennedy asked, finishing off his cup of tea.
‘Yes, he did actually. Quite a bit.’
‘Why did he want to return, after all that had happened?’
‘Well, Sean had these plans to put out a new album, to tour. The seventies were becoming fashionable again, and Sean wanted to keep Circles on top of it. He’d done very well without Wilko but I still think he wanted another crack at America and I think he felt the original band would be more viable than one with a replacement singer. He’d mentioned the idea to Wilko ages ago and Wilko used the opportunity to start up a dialogue with Sean again. They had been good mates and Wilko had met only bastards since going solo. Added to which, Sean was still Wilko’s publisher, and Wilko wanted to write songs again and look for new songs for himself. So, they hung out again for a time. It was like the old days, the three of them, Sean, Wilko and KP. They were meeting up more and more and Wilko was becoming happier again.
‘Sean promised Wilko he’d help him sort out his problems with the managers and lawyers, and convinced Wilko that the Circles revival wasn’t going to be a long-term thing. He just wanted to have a profile for the band so that the catalogue would sell. He felt the more current they were the easier it would be. He also said there would be lots of time for Wilko’s solo career and that he would help Wilko make a record after they’d done the Circles album. He even told Wilko that, if he wanted, he would set the whole thing up for him. And that’s one thing about Sean; he’s a great organiser. He thinks about absolutely everything. Wilko was still existing from the money he received for the Circles stuff, so he thought that if the deal was okay there couldn’t poss
ibly be a down side.’
‘Was the deal okay?’ Coles ventured.
‘I believe they were still working on it,’ was the widow’s reply.
Minutes later Kennedy and Coles were in their unmarked car on the way back to Camden Town.
‘So, I suppose we’ve added another name to our list of suspects?’ Coles guessed, as she negotiated the heavy traffic on Delancey Street.
‘More like three, I’d say,’ Kennedy mused. ‘Who were you thinking of?’
‘Robert Clarke, Wilko’s replacement. He stood to lose a lot by Wilko rejoining the band. He was my choice. So are you also considering Wilko’s manager, Simple Simon?’
‘Yep.’
‘And…’ Coles faltered. ‘Not Susan, you don’t think…?’
‘No, but perhaps her sister.’
‘But they were together on the night of the murder.’
‘So she says. And she offered the information up very quickly. But you can see she’s very protective of her sister. She’d given up her entire life for her. Perhaps she felt that it was time Susan escaped from Wilko. Maybe she’d found something of her own and wanted to move on. I don’t know, there’s something there, I’m just not sure what. Long shots, all of them, I know, but they are the only shots we have at this stage.’ Kennedy noticed they were just about to pass Arlington Road.
‘Ah, good,’ he said. ‘Just drop me on the corner here, I’ve got to see a nurse.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Golden Grill was very quiet. Rose Butler had not yet arrived so Kennedy ordered a cup of tea from Vange, the waiter, and intended to review his interview with Susan Robertson and her sister Tracey. But he found himself thinking about Rose.
