by Bill Kitson
I eyed her smug expression suspiciously. ‘And what makes you so sure of that?’
‘They were in the dressing room when Gerry disappeared. Everyone said so.’
‘OK, so I forgot that point – I can’t be expected to remember everything.’
‘Poor thing, getting forgetful are we?’ Eve patted me gently on the head, only to find herself in an armlock. ‘I surrender,’ she cried. ‘So why do you reckon the killer hasn’t had another go at Gerry, if he was the prime target all along?’
‘Just because we know Gerry’s alive and well, it doesn’t mean the killer does. I think the killer might have been told we were asking about Northern Lights, and gathering a lot of information, which is why they were afraid of either Mitchell or Thompson spilling the beans on something they knew, could even be drugs.’ I shrugged. ‘They might still believe that the body pulled from the Tyne was Crowther’s. And even if they suspect Crowther is alive, they can’t have any idea where to look for him. He could be anywhere from Land’s End to John O’Groats. He might not even be in this country, as far as they know.’
‘OK, you’ve convinced me. I suppose I was assuming the killer had knowledge simply because we did.’
We told Gerry and Sheila next morning, along with Charlie and Trudi. I was surprised by how well they took the news. ‘It isn’t going to affect our plans,’ Sheila told everyone. ‘Last night, Gerry asked me to marry him and I accepted.’
There was a break, as Trudi hugged her mother and after a slight hesitation, her new-found father and we congratulated the couple. ‘Let me make it plain,’ Sheila told us, ‘I want to be known as Sheila Crowther, not Sheila Hardin or Sheila anything else. If someone has a problem with that, or intends to harm my husband or my daughter, they’ll have me to contend with. Some evil people have already cost me almost twenty years of happiness. I am not prepared to forfeit another day.’
‘Why don’t I phone Alice Pattison and find out when Lew will be back from America?’ Eve suggested. ‘We could come along with you to London, if that makes you feel any easier.’
‘There’s only one problem,’ Crowther told us. ‘I need to find someone to tend my plants. I’ve a lot of vegetables will need picking soon, and there’s watering to do. Added to that, the hens have to be fed and the eggs collected.’
‘Leave that with me,’ Eve told him. ‘I think I know someone who might be prepared to help.’
Next morning I rang Neville Wade, and was relieved to hear the vet was in the best of health. Before I ended the call, I asked him a question that sprang to mind following my discussion with Eve the previous day. When I replaced the receiver, I wandered through to the kitchen and told her. ‘Wade said the most exciting thing that’s happened since we saw him was a German Shepherd bitch giving birth to a litter of nine puppies.’
‘You were on a long time just for that news.’
‘I took the opportunity to ask him about Thompson and Mitchell. It seems I was right, sadly. Their taste was for very young girls, but he’s no idea if anyone might have been blackmailing them. I told him about Gerry and Sheila getting back together.’
‘Was he pleased?’
‘I’m not sure. He sounded happy enough, but I sensed that he had reservations. Although I did suggest Sheila might want a word with him!’
‘I don’t envy him. Anyway, while you were on the phone I managed to arrange a babysitter for Gerry’s hens and plants.’
‘Who? How?’
‘Henry Price, the milkman. I remembered he has a big garden and grows a lot of produce, so when he delivered our milk a few minutes ago I popped outside to talk to him. I asked him if he could fit in tending Gerry’s stuff. He’d be happy to. He finishes his deliveries by late morning and then has nothing to do for the rest of the day. He’s also keen to talk to Gerry about offering eggs for sale on his milk round.’
Chapter Thirteen
Eve’s conversation with Alice Pattison was frustrating, as she was unsure when her husband would be back from the States. ‘He’d hoped to be able to fly back this weekend,’ Eve reported, ‘but it looks as if it will be later this week. Alice has promised to phone as soon as she knows anything. She’s aware how important it is.’
In the end, we set off on Friday. The previous afternoon had been spent introducing Crowther to Henry Price, who was to take care of the produce during his absence. Eve, Charlie, and I would be staying with the Pattisons. We drove there after seeing Crowther, Sheila, and Trudi safely installed in Sheila’s flat. That evening, we brought Lew and Alice up to date with everything that had happened. When we explained how we’d tracked Crowther down I could see Pattison was impressed.
‘We were lucky,’ Eve told him, ‘because Adam recognised Crowther’s alias. He made the connection between the name Charles Hardin and Crowther’s idol, Buddy Holly.’
‘Of course! A lot of musicians idolise their predecessors and contemporaries. Billy Quinn was a huge fan of Duane Eddy, and Wayne Barnett, who left the group, was a great admirer of Dion.’
When it came to describing current events, both Lew and Alice were shocked and appalled by the violent deaths of the two former members of Northern Lights, stunned by the events that had caused Crowther to disappear, and the implications of our theory about Carl Long’s death.
‘That isn’t the worst,’ I told Lew. ‘ We believe the only way the killer could have learned about us going to talk to band members was via a mole in your organisation, as you suggested previously, and we believe it must be someone who has been with you a long time. Have you any idea who it might be?’
Pattison shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Most of my staff have been there since I started the business. I can’t believe anyone would be that disloyal.’
When we told him of Trudi’s plans to record the songs Crowther had written for her, with her father playing the accompaniment, I could see Pattison the businessman take over. ‘This could make Trudi an even bigger star,’ he told us. ‘That song is a class above all the other material she’s had to work with so far.’
‘Wait until you hear the other one,’ Eve told him. ‘We think that’s better still.’
‘Then we’ll need a second contract,’ Lew said.
‘There is one minor problem, but I think Alice could answer it. Is it in order for Crowther to sign the contracts in the name of Charles Hardin? Although he wants to come out of hiding, we’re keen to protect his identity as long as we can.’
‘I’m no expert on contracts,’ Alice replied, ‘it isn’t my field of law, but I can’t see a snag. Many actors and actresses do it, and authors too.’
‘Plus a lot of performers,’ Pattison added. ‘A large percentage of them have almost forgotten the name they were born with. How are we going to protect Gerry’s anonymity when they cut the record, though?’
‘We had an idea about that as well,’ Eve told him. ‘Are you busy on Sunday?’
On Sunday morning Lew and Alice ferried all of us to the offices of Pattison Music and Management to sort out the contracts. The offices were not exactly what I’d envisaged. The mental image I’d conjured up was of a far newer building, one that was heavy on plate glass with plenty of stainless steel to hold it in place.
In fact, the red brick exterior housed a far more traditional suite of offices and meeting rooms, with the accent on comfort rather than an outward display of luxury. Lew told me that the idea was to create an atmosphere of solid, reliable reassurance to their clients, who were involved in what was a very chancy industry, with a high failure rate. The walls of the reception area were decorated with large photographs. The subjects were all groups or solo artists in concert. Although I cannot claim to be a music aficionado, even I was able to put a name to most of them.
We headed straight for Lew’s secretary’s office and as I was the only one with sufficient skill on a typewriter, I was given the job of typing the second contract, a rather wordy document.
‘Better leave the desk just as you found it,’
Lew warned me, ‘Melissa’s obsessive about tidiness.’
‘Yes, and it wouldn’t do to upset her,’ Alice added, ‘She’ll sulk for days, and Lew’s life won’t be worth living.’
When that was done, we got back in the cars and drove out to the suburbs, to the recording studio, where we witnessed a little showbusiness magic. Lew proved his experience in the industry had a practical grounding as he acted as session manager, watching over the recording in a professional manner.
We all returned to the Pattisons’ house, where Lew and Alice had organised a party to celebrate Gerry’s return. At one point Lew said, ‘I owe you and Eve more than I can hope to repay, and I feel sure Gerry is of the same mind. I must settle up with you for all your hard work.’
‘Don’t even think of it, Lew,’ Eve told him, ‘Adam and I wouldn’t hear of it. If you feel desperately anxious to lighten your wallet, send a donation to a worthy charity.’
I saw that Pattison was about to object, but I nipped it in the bud. ‘Apart from anything else, Lew, our work isn’t done yet.’
Pattison’s gaze strayed to Crowther, who was talking to Alice and Sheila. He looked relaxed, smiling, content. ‘I don’t follow you.’
‘There are two murders that remain unsolved, and I for one don’t believe the danger to Crowther and his family is by any means over. Luckily, we don’t believe those responsible know that Gerry is still alive. We’re sure they think he perished that night in Newcastle. However, that could change at any moment, and we want to be one jump ahead of them should that happen.’
‘How do you plan to do that?’
Eve and I had been discussing that very issue. ‘I think we ought to revisit your offices tomorrow, when all the staff are present. I think we should go around asking questions of anyone who was involved around the time Northern Lights was performing. If we’re right, and there is a mole within your business, our presence might just panic them. Or at the very least alarm them sufficiently for them to make a mistake and give themselves away.’
‘That’s fine by me, except that I won’t be there. I’ll speak to Harvey, my number two, and he’ll take care of you.’
Next morning, having arranged matters with Sheila, we dropped Charlie off at her flat. She and Gerry were going to take Charlie and Trudi on a sightseeing tour. Eve and I went from there to Lew’s offices.
Having announced our arrival to the receptionist, we waited for a few moments in the large foyer before a door to our left opened. The man who entered was about the same age as Pattison. He was small, fair-haired, slight of build, and good-looking with slightly effeminate features. He walked over to us with a quick, short stride which could uncharitably be described as mincing. His voice was gentle and pleasantly welcoming.
‘Mr Bailey? Miss Samuels?’
He shook hands with each of us in turn. ‘My name’s Harvey Jackson; Lew’s assistant, we’ve spoken on the phone. Lew phoned to tell me you were coming, and that you needed to look round and talk to everyone. He was hoping to have got back in time to meet up with you here, but by the sound of it, things aren’t going too well at the recording studios, so he doesn’t think he’ll make it in time. I’ve a little job to do, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting in Lew’s office, I’ll get you a drink.’
As we walked along the corridor leading to Pattison’s office, we had the chance to inspect yet more photos. The artists were much more recognizable, and I was able to identify several icons of the British music industry. The statement those images made about the stature and achievements of Pattison Music and Management was hardly subtle, but any aspiring performer could hardly fail to be impressed, even overawed, on seeing them – which was probably exactly what Pattison intended. Minutes later we were seated in his office, unseen the previous day, revelling in the opulence of the furnishings. All pretensions to modesty had ended at the threshold. If the rest of the building made a statement about the reliability of the company, Lew’s own suite shouted their success. As I sank into the soft, embracing cushions of the sofa, I had a momentary fear that I might never free myself from their clutches. Jackson held open the door for a pretty, blonde woman, who I guessed was in her late thirties. She advanced towards us carrying a tray containing a coffee pot and a plate, on which was a young mountain of biscuits. Jackson introduced her as Pattison’s secretary, Melissa Norton. ‘Melissa will be in the outer office should you need anything.’ He coughed politely, as he addressed Eve, ‘If you need to freshen up, the facilities are through that door to the left. Please excuse me; I have to interview a comedian.’ He smiled slightly. ‘At least, he says he’s a comedian, but he hasn’t convinced me yet.’
He raised his hand in salutation and departed in the wake of the secretary. Eve said something, but my attention was distracted, and I had to ask her to repeat it.
‘I said that he seems very nice. Don’t you agree?’
‘Er … yes, I suppose so.’ I was still pondering what I’d seen.
Eve misinterpreted my hesitation. ‘You didn’t like him? I never thought of you as someone who would take an instant dislike to a man having only met him minutes before.’
‘That’s not it at all,’ I protested. I was about to say more, to explain, but before I could speak, the office door opened and Melissa Norton re-entered the room, accompanied by another woman, who could have been her twin, so alike were they in looks and attire. Melissa introduced her as Judith Lane, who she told us was Harvey Jackson’s assistant and the company’s personnel manager.
‘Mr Pattison asked us to dig out the personnel files for anyone who has worked for the company for fifteen years or longer,’ Judith explained. She set down a sizeable mound of files on the coffee table.
‘Those are the ones for anyone still with the company,’ Melissa told us. ‘Do you need the ones for people who are no longer with us? Sorry, I mean the ones who don’t work here now, not those who’ve died. Mr Pattison said to ask you, as he wasn’t sure.’
‘I think these will do just fine,’ Eve looked at me for confirmation. ‘What do you think, Adam? Will these give you all you need for your research?’
‘I’m sure they will.’ As I spoke, I saw a look of relief pass between the two women.
‘I’m awfully glad about that,’ Melissa told us, ‘the others are stored in the basement and not easily accessible.’
Our examination of the files was long, boring, and ultimately fruitless. We had barely finished when Jackson rejoined us, with more apologies, which we dismissed as unnecessary. ‘Lew asked me to show you round and introduce you to members of our team. Would you care to start in the boardroom? Two of our most senior executives are waiting in there.’
The boardroom reminded me of a banqueting suite in a stately home, and as I looked at the huge oblong table that almost filled the space, I wondered if they had to use microphones when they held a board meeting. The two men seated at the far end of the table were all but dwarfed by it.
‘Allow me to introduce you,’ Jackson was clearly enjoying his role as tour guide. Having explained who we were, he introduced the men.
I admired Jackson’s style. Apart from Lew, he was the only one who knew the book story was a cover, but I could tell he had convinced both men by the look of weary tolerance on their faces.
‘Graham Stead,’ Jackson indicated the middle-aged man seated on the left, ‘is our contracts and royalties manager. He also has overall responsibility for the admin side of the business, which frees Barry, Lew, and myself to look after existing clients and headhunt new ones. Barry Walker here is our talent scout, one of the best in the business. Barry has signed some of the biggest names in show business to this company, long before they were famous. He specialises in vocalists and bands, while Lew covers all aspects of the industry, and I concentrate on speciality acts, plus new ventures. These days, that includes sport as well as entertainment. Lew is very keen to develop that aspect of the operation. Acting as agents for top sportsmen is becoming big business with the amounts they
earn nowadays.’
We chatted to the two men before moving on to meet the rest of the staff. I was impressed by how well everyone slotted together to perform a multitude of tasks, and I could tell Eve was too, by some of the questions she asked on our tour round the building.
‘We could have twice as many people working here,’ Jackson told her in answer to a question about staffing levels, ‘but they would spend a lot of the time twiddling their thumbs. Yes, it can get a bit manic at times, but it’s never boring, and seems to work efficiently.’
‘One thing that does surprise me is how many secretaries you have.’ I told him. In addition to Melissa Norton and Judith Lane we had met three others. One worked for Barry Walker, another for Graham Stead, while the third acted as liaison and filled in for any of the other four when needed.
‘Ours is a business that relies heavily on swift and accurate communication, whether by phone, telex, by cable, or in letter form. Added to which, Melissa and Judith spend a lot of their time acting as mother hens for the clients,’ said Jackson. ‘That entails everything from ordering their new stage clothes to arranging accommodation, flights, and even concert dates and venues, which is Judith’s speciality. It frees us up to devote our time and energy to developing the business.’
At the end of the tour, we thanked Jackson for his help, and as we shook hands I suggested he join us. ‘We’re going across the road for a coffee,’ I told him, ‘and we’d like to have a chat with you in private.’
Jackson looked at me for a moment, clearly speculating on my motive, before agreeing. ‘Give me a few minutes while I make a phone call and then I’ll join you,’ he told us.
We crossed the road and entered the small coffee bar I’d noticed earlier. ‘Would you mind explaining what we’re doing here, and what that was all about?’ Eve demanded.
‘It’ll become clear soon,’ I told her. ‘I’m only surprised you haven’t guessed already.’
