‘Mrs Jeffries, I wouldn’t trouble you without good reason, but I have important news for you. Edwin Smith, the man convicted of your daughter’s killing, was innocent.’
A long pause followed before Kathleen Jeffries said sharply, ‘That is absurd. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Believe me, I do. A woman has now given Smith an unbreakable alibi for the time of the murder.’
‘You seem to have overlooked that he confessed to the crime.’
‘His confession was false. Someone else strangled Carole. I am sure you would be anxious, perhaps more than anyone, for the true culprit to be found. There has been talk that there was another boyfriend in her life, someone other than the pop singer Ray Brill. I wondered if you might have any idea...’
‘This is an outrage!’ Even standing alone on her doorstep, he could feel the heat of her anger. ‘How dare you come here and talk such nonsense! I have no intention of discussing the matter with you any further. Now be off with you, or I shall call the police.’
One advantage of having acted on behalf of so many of life’s losers was that Harry had learned when to admit defeat. Quietly, he said, ‘Of course I will leave, if that is what you want, Mrs Jeffries, but I can assure you my only wish is for the truth to come out. Perhaps you’ll at least be willing to think it over. In the meantime, goodbye.’
She didn’t answer and reluctantly he trudged back to his car. He still wanted to talk to Kathleen Jeffries, but he was equally sure that he would make no headway for the time being. The loss of a daughter to murder and a husband to suicide would be enough to harden any heart and he would need to reconsider his tactics before having any chance of making a more fruitful approach to her.
Time to try Ray Brill. He jumped into the MG and set off for the centre of the resort. In one of the side streets behind the elegance of Lord Street’s shops was a clutch of large three-storey terraced dwellings, all of which had been converted into flats. The shabbiest was the one where the fallen star had landed. The salt wind from the sea had stripped much of the paint from the walls and the front garden was knee-high in brambles and bits of brick. A rusting supermarket trolley which lacked one of its wheels had come to rest on the path which led to the door.
Ray Brill’s name was next to the bell of the ground-floor flat. Harry rang twice long and loud, but no-one answered. Perhaps his quarry wasn’t even in town and his trip was going to be altogether wasted. He swore, but as he paused for breath the front door opened and a fat man in an anorak emerged.
‘Do you know where I might find Ray Brill?’
The man had the morose air of a chocoholic on a sugar-free diet. ‘No prizes for guessing, pal.’
‘I’m not very good at guessing.’
‘He’ll be chucking his money away in the arcades, if I know anything.’
‘Do you know which arcades he goes to?’
‘Try the places down at the front. I only wish I had the money to throw around like that,’ the man grumbled. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. Do you know how much my bloody ex-wife takes off me each week? Can you guess?’
Harry escaped before the fat man could tell him and drove to the promenade. Even out of season, the resort bustled and none of the amusement arcades was crying out for the lack of customers. A handful of truanting schoolkids and a clutch of unemployed teenagers he would have expected, but he also saw plenty of adults, middle-aged men and women wearing ancient coats and glazed expressions, pushing coins into slots with such singleness of mind that he felt sure that if a bomb exploded in the Floral Hall their eyelids would scarcely flicker.
In each place he visited, the flashing lights half-blinded him, but it was the noise that made his head begin to throb. Every arcade had its own incessant cacophony of weird electronic bleeps, cascading pennies and blazing guns. He watched the punters absorb the messages of the ever-changing liquid crystal displays which shone so brightly on the machines that enslaved them. Here people spoke a foreign language and followed severe commands from inhuman masters to nudge or hold, to wait for the fair play reel or to match the bar to earn a prize. They clutched at promises of big cash jackpots and a fresh pack of cards every time, digging deep in threadbare pockets for the privilege. WIN! WIN! WIN! urged the one-armed bandits as the oranges and lemons spun round and round, but as far as Harry could tell, for all the occasional tinkling of coins in pay-trays, time after time the slaves lost, lost, lost.
He was on the point of abandoning his search when he saw a face he recognised. Ray Brill’s photograph had appeared in several of Ken Cafferty’s newspaper clippings: Harry guessed it was a publicity shot taken during the heyday of the Brill Brothers, perhaps by Benny Frederick himself. But Ray had become old before his time. His slick dark hair had thinned and the sallow cheeks and boxer’s nose were now patterned with dark red thread veins. Although he could be little more than fifty years old, he looked as though he had long since qualified both for a bus pass and a spell at the Betty Ford Clinic.
He was juggling twenty-pence pieces in his left hand and pressing buttons on a poker game machine with his right, as absorbed in the task as a scientist engrossed in calculations of infinite complexity.
‘Ray Brill?’
He spun round as if an invisible puppeteer had jerked his string. ‘What d’you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?’ The husky tones that had once sung poignantly of heartbreak had become harsh with the passing of the years and he spoke with the faint habitual slur of a man seldom laid low by drink but never wholly sober.
‘My name’s Devlin. I’ve come from Liverpool to talk to you.’
‘Oh yeah? You know who I am?’
‘I have one of your records at home. “Blue On Blue”.’
‘What d’you want? My fucking autograph?’
‘I’d like to talk to you about Carole Jeffries.’
Mention of the girl’s name seemed to concentrate his mind. ‘What is this? Why all the fuss about a bit of skirt who died thirty years ago?’
‘You’ve spoken to a man called Ernest Miller.’
‘What if I have?’ Beneath the truculence, Harry sensed unease.
‘Miller’s dead, but I...’
‘Dead?’ He propped himself against the game machine as if in need of support. ‘You’re having me on.’
‘I wish I were. He collapsed over the weekend. I was his solicitor and...’
‘So you’re a brief,’ said Ray Brill scornfully. He made it sound like a confession to unspeakable crime. ‘What d’you need to talk to me about Carole for?’
‘Ernest Miller learned that Carole wasn’t strangled by Smith, the man who was sentenced for the murder. I’d like to find the man who did kill her.’
Harry gave Ray Brill a searching glance, but to his surprise the man seemed almost to relax. It was as if he had expected the conversation might take a different turn. ‘Can’t help you.’
‘Something’s on your mind, though. What is it?’
Ray Brill gave a harsh bark of laughter. ‘Nothing. Certainly not you, Mister Harry Devlin.’
‘You and Carole were drifting apart, weren’t you? You’d had your fun, you were getting tired of her. Did she ever make your temper snap?’
‘What are you suggesting - that I murdered the little cow? Don’t you know, smartarse? I had an alibi.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard that. But are you saying you wouldn’t like to find out who really murdered her?’
At a nearby machine a young boy hit the jackpot and whooped with delight. Ray Brill fiddled with the money in his hand and finally said, ‘Smith did it. Everyone knows that.’
‘No, Ray, he was innocent. Someone else strangled Carole, I promise you. Does that shock you? After all, there once was a time when she meant something to you.’
‘If I lost sleep over every girl I’ve screwed,
I’d never have another decent night’s kip in my life.’
His sneer provoked Harry. An electronic rifle roared in his ear and he found himself shouting to make himself heard. ‘She’d found another boyfriend, hadn’t she? That’s what really hurt you. For once, the great pop star was going to get the elbow himself. Did you hate that? Did you crack on that you were the one giving her the push? How jealous were you, Ray?’
The noise died down and Ray Brill gave him a savage glare. ‘You’re fucking crazy. There was no-one else. Now why don’t you piss off out of here?’
Harry shrugged and made his way to the exit. There was no point in arguing with a man in such a mood. He already had the vague feeling that Ray had said something significant. Besides he had seen through the fury in the bloodshot eyes. No question about it: Ray Brill had something to hide.
‘You’ve been seduced,’ said Harry to his partner at the end of the afternoon. They were standing in his office, their arms full of glossy brochures. ‘I never thought it would happen, but you’ve succumbed to the wiles of a silver-tongued charmer. Does Heather know?’
For the first time that he could ever remember, the big man blushed. He spoke hurriedly, as if to cover confusion. ‘You don’t seem to realise that what Benny Frederick is telling us about video as a practice development tool makes plenty of sense. We need to promote ourselves more effectively to potential clients.’
‘I can’t see the people I act for queuing up at the television lounge in Walton Jail to watch us.’
‘I was thinking more of businessmen in the Round Table,’ his partner said impatiently.
‘You’re saying they have pronounced criminal tendencies?’
Jim snorted. ‘You simply never meant to treat this meeting seriously, did you?’
‘You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m glad Benny’s so talkative. I’m dying to ask him about the Carole Jeffries case. Now that really is a matter of life and death. I’d just like you to get this marketing malarkey out of your system, that’s all.’
A resigned sigh. ‘We’d better go back. He’ll be wondering what we’ve been talking about. I take it your answer is no, then?’
‘Not so fast, I want to keep his interest. Let me handle this my way.’
‘Didn’t the last person you said that to get twelve years?’
Harry grinned. ‘For Chrissake, he was an armed robber. Bloody lucky not to get fifteen. Now let’s have another chat with Mr Frederick.’
They returned to Jim’s room, where Benny Frederick was glancing around, taking in the ordered mound of correspondence as well as the framed certificates on the wall. He had darting eyes the colour of coal and Harry felt sure they would not miss much. His hair was still the same anarchic mass of dark curls it had been during his heyday as a photographer and his slim frame seemed not to carry an ounce of fat. At a distance he would have passed for a man of thirty rather than of fifty plus.
‘Had a chance to talk things over?’
‘We’re having a spot of trouble identifying our unique selling point,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe we could put our cards on the table and adopt the slogan Cheap Advice For Those Who Can’t Afford Better.’
Jim raised his eyes to the heavens but Benny simply giggled and said, ‘I realise you’d need to contain costs. I’m not suggesting a remake of Ben Hur.’
‘Carry On, Crusoe and Devlin might be closer to the mark. Anyway, we need to mull it over. Thanks for sparing your time and talking to us. We do appreciate it.’
‘No problem. I realise it’s a big investment for a firm like yours, a ...’ For once, even Benny faltered, a suitably glamorous euphemism eluding him.
Harry came to the rescue. ‘A niche practice?’
Another giggle. ‘Exactly!’ He stretched out a hand. ‘Well, delighted to have the chance to meet you.’
‘The feeling’s mutual. As a matter of fact, there was another reason why I wanted a personal word with you.’
Jim Crusoe said hastily, ‘I think I’d better be off. I have a difficult trust deed to draft tonight. I’ll let the two of you - have your chat.’
He shot Harry a cautionary glance as he left. As the door closed behind him, Benny turned to Harry with an expectant look and said, ‘You were saying?’
‘There’s a business I’ve been looking into and I think it’s possible that you may be able to give me a little inside information.’
A crease appeared in Benny’s brow but he simply said, ‘Fire away.’
‘It’s not a current case of mine, but rather one that happened thirty years ago and it has suddenly come to life again.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘You will be when I mention the Sefton Park Strangling.’
Benny stared at him. ‘What on earth has that to do with you?’
The past few days had given Harry plenty of practice in explaining his interest in the killing of Carole Jeffries and overcoming people’s reluctance to accept the notion of Edwin Smith’s innocence. Benny heard him out in silence, occasionally pushing a hand through the black curls, as if unable to believe what he was hearing.
‘Amazing,’ he said in the end. ‘If it’s true. Even so, I don’t see where I come in.’
‘You employed Carole, worked with her five days a week. What can you tell me about her?’
Benny took his time before replying. ‘She was a gorgeous girl. I suppose you’ll have seen photographs, but even a couple I took never did her justice. Her hair was long and fine, her skin absolutely flawless. She was a child who looked like a goddess - and behaved like one. I could have sworn she was immortal.’
‘But she wasn’t immortal, was she?’
‘No, poor kid.’ He paused. ‘Apart from that, what can I say? I suppose she was thrilled by glamour. That’s why she joined me. In those days I was photographing all the top stars. She wasn’t bothered about working in the shop - in fact, she could be a lazy little cow - but she loved the idea of mixing with the John Lennons and all the others who used to beat a path to our door. But above everything she was daring and determined. Once she set her mind on something, she wouldn’t let anything get in her way.’
‘You make her sound ruthless.’
‘Maybe so. She had a famous father who let her run wild. He was always an easy touch where she was concerned. Whatever she wanted, she could have. I knew the family, they lived near to me.’
‘I’ve tried to speak to Kathleen Jeffries - but she rebuffed me.’
‘You don’t surprise me. Her memories must be painful even after all these years, although she was never besotted with Carole in the way her husband was. I don’t criticise Guy. I’ve never fathered children and never will, but I can imagine the joy of having an offspring who seemed so perfect.’
‘Shirley Titchard didn’t regard her as perfect.’
‘You’re a lawyer,’ said Benny, mischief glinting in his black eyes. ‘Would you say Shirley was an unbiased witness? After all, Carole stole Ray Brill from her. I felt sorry for Shirl, but it was a contest in which there was only ever going to be one winner. Though once she had her man, things began to change. I’ve known Ray since he was a kid and he always had a roving eye himself, but Carole was more cold-blooded. After a while she decided he’d served his purpose.’
‘She tired of him?’
‘Yes, she had great fun going out on the arm of a pop singer who could make the other girls swoon, but she kept her eye on the main chance. I reckoned that, the moment someone more appealing than Ray Brill came along, she would ditch him without a second thought. The truth is, she had the moral scruples of a chainsaw.’
‘And did someone else come on to the scene?’
Benny scratched his ear. ‘Maybe.’
‘Was Ray jealous?’
‘You’ll have to ask him that.’
�
�When he sobers up, I will.’
‘It could be a long wait.’
‘I’ve gathered that. As well as gathering from your guarded answer to my question that Ray was the jealous type.’
A shrug. ‘None of us likes to be rejected. Especially when we’ve come to expect adulation.’
‘Was he jealous enough to kill?’
‘Come on!’ Benny seemed genuinely shocked by the suggestion. ‘Ray wasn’t delighted to be dumped, but it was no catastrophe. He’s always been able to pick and choose.’
‘Okay - so can you tell me who had caught Carole’s eye?’ He paused for a moment, watching Benny’s face for a reaction. ‘Was it you?’
‘What in God’s name makes you suggest that?’
‘Am I right?’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you? I thought my tastes were well enough known in Liverpool.’
‘You wouldn’t be the first person to swing both ways. You were her boss, the person giving her the chance to meet all the right people. She owed you a lot. And she was lovely to look at, even if there was a splinter of ice in her heart. I can imagine that, being with her day after day, you might have been attracted against your - shall we say, better judgement?’
The mass of curls shook vigorously. ‘You’re right, I did find her attractive. I’d have had to be neuter not to sense her appeal, but it went no further than that.’
‘Then who?’
Benny sighed. ‘I’ve never discussed this with anyone before.’
‘There’s always a first time.’
‘Are we speaking in confidence?’
‘I can’t force you to tell me anything,’ said Harry. He thought it a good politician’s reply.
‘You give me the impression that you won’t take no for an answer.’
‘Too many people have died not knowing how this whole sorry mess would end,’ said Harry. ‘Edwin Smith, in ’64. Ernest Miller, the man who put me on to the case originally. Smith’s mum, only yesterday. To say nothing of Carole herself, and Guy, who couldn’t face continuing to live without her. I think they all deserve to have someone who’s willing to work to bring the truth to light.’
Yesterday's Papers Page 18
