Death in Little Venice

by Leo McNeir

  “When did he do that? I thought you hadn’t seen him.”

  “He’d already hinted at it. He said it was best for all concerned. The PM’s lot wanted as many as possible of his opponents to be weakened or weeded out. I was considered expendable. With my backwoods constituency I wasn’t going to be able to marshal a big defence, and I could make way for a more sound man. They needed all the allies they could get.”

  “One of us?” said Marnie.

  “One of us, that’s right. That's what Maggie used to say. I always was one of us in her day. And I had a future in her day. I just got left behind when she got the chop. So bloody stupid, ditching Maggie, so bloody unfair. She was good for another victory, no matter what the wets said. People like a leader, someone with ideas they can understand. Do you know Tim actually thought I wouldn't mind going to the Lords.”

  “Why did he think that?”

  Malcolm ignored her question. “It got me wondering that it was his idea. Well, I told him he had another think coming.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “When he sent that note. I rang him straight away, told him I was going to fight every inch. That made him panic. He saw himself caught up in a big row. It would never do, just after Major had held on to his post. It would be a serious failure if he couldn't handle even a simple job like telling a friend he had to go to the Lords.”

  “Perhaps he thought you’d be better off in the Lords than stuck permanently on the backbenches.”

  “It was betrayal, Marnie, however you try to dress it up. That’s what Tim tried to do. No. He betrayed me like they’d betrayed Maggie. We shared the same fate.”

  “I don’t see why he’d want to betray you, Malcolm. You were friends. What would be the point?”

  “It wasn’t personal. It was a job he was given to do, tidy me out of the way without a fuss. Who better to do that than his best friend? That was the price of his advancement. And I’d be paying the bill.”

  “That’s why he was coming here, to talk about it at your invitation.”

  “Yes. It would count against him, you see. I knew the PM would be worried about stirring everything up again. This loose cannon could cause a lot of trouble just at that moment. I knew he'd come like a shot. I said we had to discuss it man to man.”

  “But you never did see him in the end. Or did you?”

  “What? Oh, er no, of course not.”

  “So you never had time to put things right between you.” Marnie was stalling. Where was Ralph? She had a quick glance at her watch.

  “No. We never put things right,” said Malcolm.

  *

  Anne had never been in this part of London before. She asked the way from another passenger getting off the bus at her stop, and set off in the right direction, walking quickly in time with the thoughts that were racing through her brain. She pulled the mobile out of her bag and pressed the buttons for Directory Enquiries. They gave her the number for Bristol University. She stopped walking and asked the switchboard operator for the Economics department.

  Another calm voice. “The departmental office is now closed and will re-open tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

  Anne’s shoulders slumped. She switched the phone off with a sigh, desperately needing backup. What could she do? Who could help her? The answer was simple: no-one. She was on her own. Or was she? What if …? The idea began to form. Yes. It might be worth a try. She pressed the buttons and made a quick call before setting off again at a fast pace.

  A minute later she arrived at the end of Malcolm’s street. It was a quiet backwater, and she knew the canal was only a short distance away. As she walked, she wondered if the local residents could obtain keys to the British Waterways gates controlling the towpath. She reached Malcolm’s number and slowed down so that she could see the names on the door bells. Grant was on the first floor.

  There was no-one else in the street. Anne turned back and slowly approached the house, casually mounting the steps like a cat coming home patiently waiting for someone to let her in. Anne put her hand on the door and pushed. It was locked of course. Almost at once there was a sound of movement inside the house, and Anne wondered for a second if she had accidentally touched a bell. She jumped back down the steps and moved away, pretending to be just passing by. Hearing the door open, she looked round hoping that Marnie would be coming out. A woman emerged with a small dog tucked under her arm. A Jack Russell terrier. She bent down to put the dog on the pavement, leaving the door to swing shut on an automatic mechanism. Talking cheerfully to her dog, the woman set off without a glance in Anne’s direction.

  Without hesitating for a second, Anne skipped across the pavement, took the steps in one leap and had her hand on the door before it could click shut. She waited. The woman continued on her way, now deep in conversation with the Jack Russell. Anne leaned against the door, and it opened silently. She slipped inside and let it close behind her.

  *

  The conversation was going slowly, Malcolm seeming to relive the last hours of Tim Edmonds’s life, Marnie playing for time, wanting Ralph to arrive on the scene. Past experience told her that he would not be there.

  “So you did know what you were going to talk about with Tim Edmonds. I thought you said you didn’t.”

  Malcolm seemed to have given up on his story. “No. I knew all right. I was going to tell Tim that I would not be giving up my seat. I told him I’d fight for it.”

  “Was that when you spoke on the phone?” said Marnie.

  “On the phone?” Malcolm looked puzzled. “Oh, yes, on the phone, yes, that's right.”

  “When you arranged for him to come here.”

  “Do you know, Marnie, he described me as a man with a brilliant future behind him … one of his blessed one-liners. That was the last straw, reducing me to a soundbite! Just like Blair or Mandelson. He made me think I was just lobby fodder or cannon fodder.” His voice tailed away.

  “But you’d get over it in time, Malcolm. You could have a new career in the Lords, be part of the government.”

  “No guarantees.”

  “It wouldn't stop you remaining friends and being drinking companions,” said Marnie. “Gentlemen of the libation.”

  Malcolm ran a hand across his forehead. “I don't know about you, Marnie, but I could do with something a bit stronger than this. Fancy something to go with your coffee?” He stood up and crossed to the sideboard where the bottles of drink were standing. Marnie glanced quickly down at her watch, and was almost caught in the act as Malcolm spun round. “What did you say, gentlemen of the libation? How peculiar. That’s what Maggie used to call Tim and me. It was her nickname for us. How on earth did you know that?”

  “I'm not sure … I …”

  “You couldn’t possibly …” He shook his head in confusion, putting both hands on the sideboard.

  “I suppose I must’ve –”

  “Nobody knew that name. I can’t think how you could …” He stopped in mid sentence, looking down at the sideboard. “What the hell!” He reached out a hand towards the hip-flask, clearly visible in its bag. “Where on earth did this come from?” He turned to look at Marnie with fury in his expression, fury mixed with fear and amazement. He pulled open the drawer and looked in, gripping the sideboard as if he was going to faint. Thoughts of the revolver brought Marnie to the edge of her seat. At that moment, from the hall came the unmistakable sound of a mobile phone ringing. Malcolm looked up and went out to check, shutting the drawer as he left. Marnie stood up and stepped forward, straining to hear what was happening outside.

  Malcolm found the hallway empty, but still the phone was ringing. He opened the front door as the ringing stopped and was surprised to see a girl standing there, a thin girl in jeans wearing a beret, holding a mobile phone to her ear.

  In the drawing room, Marnie could hear an all too familiar voice, though she could not make out what it was saying. Oh no, please, dear God, Marnie thought, please not Anne, not here.
<
br />   Anne smiled tentatively at Malcolm while talking into the phone. “Oh … Professor Lombard?” she was saying. “Professor Ralph Lombard? Hallo, this is Anne. I’m at the home of Mr Malcolm Grant … yes, the Member of Parliament, though I think he may be Lord Grant now …” While listening to the caller, Anne mouthed Sorry at Malcolm and walked into the hall. Bemused, Malcolm led her to the drawing room, where Marnie was standing waiting for them. Anne seemed to be winding up her conversation with a promise to phone back as soon as it was convenient.

  “My cue to go, I think, Malcolm,” said Marnie. “I’m sorry about this interruption, but I have to be getting along now. Meetings, meetings. You know how it is. We’ll resume our talk later perhaps.” She kissed Malcolm on the cheek and turned Anne towards the door, grabbing her coat as she passed.

  Behind her Malcolm was speaking, obviously still confused as if caught off guard. “Yes, perhaps. But I’m not sure there is much more to be said.” He was looking towards the sideboard as Marnie and Anne reached the door.

  “I know the way, no need to show us out.” Marnie had Anne in the hall with the door closing behind them in seconds. They set off down the stairs, two steps at a time.

  They had gone before Malcolm had had time to take stock of the situation. He stared at the sideboard, resting both hands on its polished surface. Slowly he pulled himself together and reached down to open the drawer.

  *

  Marnie opened the front door in the downstairs hall and almost pushed Anne through it. While Anne was intent on asking questions, Marnie all but frog-marched her along the pavement in the direction of the main road, looking out for a taxi.

  “Where did you spring from?”

  “I had his address in my notebook, so I just took off. I got this idea about what might’ve happened and I couldn’t bear to wait any longer.”

  “You nearly gave me heart failure, turning up like that. It could’ve been dangerous.”

  “I thought it was dangerous for you,” said Anne, breathless with rushing.

  Marnie shook her head. “Well, all I can say is thank goodness Ralph rang just then and knew where we were. It stopped Malcolm doing anything, made him think twice.”

  “What makes you think it was Ralph on the phone?” said Anne.

  “I heard you talking to him, quite distinctly. You said Ralph’s name.”

  Anne’s turn to shake her head. “It was my brother. I got Richard to ring me from home. I was just pretending. I knew Mr Grant wouldn't harm us if he thought Ralph was on the line. The police would believe Ralph.”

  “What made you think Malcolm might harm us?”

  “I told you I had this idea about what happened that night. I got scared. I thought I shouldn't take any chances, just in case. Then, when I saw your face, I knew I'd done the right thing.”

  Marnie hailed a taxi on the opposite side of the road. It paused, waiting for a gap in the traffic to turn. “You are truly amazing, do you know that?” She adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

  “Are you okay, Marnie? You look rather pale.”

  “I’m fine, just a touch of headache. That meeting was a bit of a strain.” She adjusted the bag again. “These past weeks have been a strain.”

  “Can I help you with that?” Anne asked. “Let me carry it.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Marnie looked at Anne, aware that a dull pain was growing behind her eyes. “It's surprising how heavy a revolver is. I've never had one in my bag before. I didn’t realise they were so big.”

  Anne gaped at her. “Revolver?” The taxi began its U-turn to meet them.

  “Malcolm’s. I took it from the sideboard.”

  “That's brilliant, Marnie.”

  “Not if we're stopped and searched by our friends the police, it isn’t. Technically, I've just stolen a firearm from an MP. In a my-word-against-his session, I wouldn't like to put money on which of us would be believed.” She opened the taxi door and slumped onto the seat. Before Marnie could speak, Anne called out an address. Marnie heard it, nodded and closed her eyes.

  25

  Thursday 19 January

  Anne sat on a stool in Mrs Jolly’s kitchen, as usual holding a mug of coffee in both hands, her thin features making her look like an orphan or a refugee.

  “It’s really nice of you to do this, Mrs Jolly.”

  “The least I could do to help, my dear. Now, let’s see about breakfast. One thing’s for sure, Marnie won’t be wanting anything. That was no ordinary headache yesterday. Did you realise she was going down with a migraine?”

  “No. She’s not had one since I’ve known her. She just looked so drawn and pale suddenly. I thought here was the best place to come.”

  “You were quite right.”

  “I should’ve thought of her sister’s, but it’s a long way from here, and I didn’t have the address.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly fine. You did the right thing. Now we have to decide what to do next.”

  “I’ve just left a message for Ralph to ring on the mobile. He’s at a seminar in Bristol today. I’ve rung the Economics department, and they’ve promised to get an urgent message to him.”

  “Good. He certainly gets around.”

  “Never stops.” Anne looked at her watch. “I suppose we ought to contact the police. I wanted to yesterday, but Marnie wasn’t up to it.”

  “And she isn’t yet, either. I think we’ve got to give her time to recover before bringing the police in. She couldn’t help them in her present state.”

  “How long will it take? I don’t know much about migraines.”

  “You’re lucky. I hope you’ll never know about them. My friend Vera’s a martyr to them. They can last from twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Horrible. I’m not letting the police anywhere near Marnie until she’s absolutely out of the woods. She wouldn’t be much good to them anyway.”

  “You don’t think Malcolm Grant will try and do anything?”

  “I’ve no idea, Anne. At least he can’t reach us here. Our first concern is to get Marnie better. That’s all we can do for now.” Mrs Jolly looked up, cocking her head on one side. “Can you hear something?”

  Anne got up. “It’s the mobile.” She brought it in from her bag and pressed a button. “Hallo? … No, I’m afraid she’s not available at the moment. Who’s calling, please? … Oh, Inspector Bruere, no … I can’t disturb here just now … No, it’s not possible …”

  Mrs Jolly reached out towards Anne, who passed her the phone. “Hallo? My name is Mrs Jolly. What can I do for you? … Really? Well, inspector, I’m afraid you’re not in any position to insist. Mrs Walker is ill. She is in bed with a migraine. You can ring back later … much later.” She pointed at the mobile. “How do you turn this thing off, Anne?”

  *

  Around twelve noon Mrs Jolly went up to see if Marnie was capable of eating, leaving Anne sitting at the kitchen table attempting the crossword in that morning’s edition of The Times. The mobile rang. Anne was half smiling when she reached for the phone, expecting it to be Ralph returning her call. She was sure this would be him. She was wrong.

  “Good afternoon.” The voice stressed the word afternoon. “This is Chief Inspector Bruere. I’d like to speak to Mrs Walker.”

  “I’m sorry, she’s not available at the moment. She’s unwell and can’t come to the phone.”

  “I think she’ll speak to me if you tell her who it is.”

  He thinks I’m stalling, Anne thought. “But she really is unwell. She’s in bed with a migraine.”

  “Who is this?” The voice was cold and intimidating.

  “I’m Marnie’s colleague, her assistant, Anne Price.” Anne had never felt so much the vulnerability of her sixteen years.

  Bruere spoke even more slowly, even more quietly. “Then I think you’d better assist her by telling her I want to talk to her. And I want to talk to her now. In person. I have to see her.”

  Anne felt her hand shaking. She stood up and walked out of the kitc
hen, meeting Mrs Jolly at the foot of the stairs. The old lady gestured that Marnie was improving, with a smile and a thumbs-up. The arrival of reinforcements made Anne more confident. “Mr Bruere, is it really urgent?”

  “You obviously haven’t heard the news.”

  “I’ll go and see what state she’s in and I’ll ring you back in a minute or two. Is that all right?” To her surprise, Bruere agreed, gave his number and made her promise to phone back within five minutes. His tone made her believe there would be consequences if she failed.

  “Are you all right, Anne?” said Mrs Jolly.

  “That was the police, Inspector Bruere again, Chief Inspector Bruere. He wants to talk to Marnie … now. He sounds very tough.”

  “Well, he’d better not try being tough on us.”

  Anne grimaced. “I said I’d see if Marnie was able to talk to him. He wants to see her.”

  “She’s awake, more or less, but still groggy. I think you’d better ask her if she feels up to it.”

  Anne went up and tapped gently on the door. The curtains were drawn. Anne walked quietly over to the bed. “Hallo,” she whispered.

  “Hi.” Marnie’s voice was weary, but had a hint of a smile at the edges.

  “How are you feeling? Silly question?”

  “Coming round, I think. Have you come to cheer me up?”

  A twinge of guilt. “Not exactly. I have a message for you.”

  “From Ralph?”

  “No. From Chief Inspector Bruere.”

  Marnie closed her eyes. “That makes my day, whatever day it is.”

  “He wants to see you. I’ve tried to put him off. He doesn’t know where we are.”

  Marnie sighed. “No. But he’ll find out sooner or later. We’d better get it over with.”

  Anne made the call.

  *

  With the visit from the police imminent, Mrs Jolly went upstairs to change, leaving Anne drinking a cup of tea in the silence of the kitchen. The radio was switched off to keep the house as quiet as possible for Marnie’s sake.