by Bill Kitson
Eve stared at me for a moment, which seemed longer to me. Her gaze was one of the piercing ones that always makes me uncomfortable. ‘All right,’ she admitted, ‘so my idea was a wild one, but you never get them, I suppose? There’s no need to pour scorn on it simply because it wasn’t the product of your over-heated imagination. Or were you rehearsing prose for a change in career, moving from crime fiction to fantasy, perhaps? The Kalahari desert indeed!’
To this day, wild ideas are known in our house as ‘Kalahari dreams’.
When Pattison had phoned to tell us about the deception he’d set up, he also informed us that he had told Harvey Jackson to arrange security for the concert, to supplement that provided by the venue. ‘I’ll be coming up to Harrogate the day before to supervise the arrangements and liaise with the TV Company,’ he told us.
Despite the precautions he’d put in place, I was uneasy, and told Eve so. ‘Being of a naturally cautious nature I think it would be sensible to tell DI Hardy what we’re up to with Gerry, and ask if it’s possible for a police presence in the amphitheatre too. It may prevent trouble and, who knows, with a bit of luck they might be in a position to make an arrest.’
‘I think pretty much all of what you said makes perfect
sense,’ Eve replied. She paused then, but I knew there was more to come, and waited in trepidation. I wasn’t disappointed. ‘The only thing I would take issue with is your opening statement,’ she said with a smile that combined sickly sweetness with a touch of venom. ‘To describe yourself as “being of a naturally cautious nature” is one of the most outlandishly preposterous claims of all time. How long have I known you? Less than two years, and in that time I’ve been tied up and left to die in a dungeon accompanied by a pack of hungry rats who had me on their menu as their tastiest meal for centuries, then kidnapped at knife-point and held prisoner by a triple murderer, and only a couple of weeks ago had my home wrecked as a warning to keep our noses out of other people’s business. All this because of you and your so-called “cautious nature”. If that’s a representative sample of the after-effects of you behaving cautiously, heaven help me if you ever become reckless.’
I stared at Eve admiringly. ‘You really have a superb way with words. I think you should take over the writing and I’ll go into partnership with Gerry Crowther growing peas and beans.’
Later that morning, as I was enjoying a quiet half hour in the study with the door closed, pretending to work, I picked up the magazine that had been left on the dresser. This time, instead of heading straight for the Diane Little article, I read the whole of the paper. I don’t know if I’m unusual in this, but with newspapers and magazines I often start at the back page, then work my way to the front. I think this might stem from my interest in sport rather than politics or economics. I bypassed the Diane Little column and eventually ended up reading the editorial. As I reached the final paragraph, I stopped reading and began to cast my mind back to the facts we knew. I read the paragraph again, to make certain I had understood before going in search of Eve. Following the pungent smell of raw onions, I found her in the kitchen. Eve was chopping vegetables for the casserole she was cooking for the evening meal.
‘Have you a minute to take a look at this?’ I asked, putting the magazine on the worktop. I pointed to the editorial. ‘Concentrate on the final paragraph.’
Eve read it through and then looked up, her surprised expression telling me the significance hadn’t been lost on her. She was about to speak when the phone rang. I went to answer it, meaning to get rid of the caller as quickly as possible so as to return to our interrupted impromptu meeting. However, when I heard the caller’s voice, my plans changed abruptly.
Ten minutes later I returned. Eve stopped work and turned round, a carrot in one hand, a kitchen knife in the other. ‘Who was on the phone?’ She gestured down the hall, using the carrot to point with, which was a mild relief.
‘Pete Firth, he rang because Julie passed him my message. He still didn’t want to talk, but he admitted he was scared, both by his visitor, and by what happened to Mitchell and Thompson.’
‘Did he say who visited him?’
‘He implied it was Steve Thompson, but he wouldn’t tell me outright. Anyway, he’s going to think about whether to attend the concert or not.’ I gestured to the magazine. ‘What do reckon to that? It seems to eliminate one more suspect, don’t you agree?’
‘I do, but where do we go from here?’
‘I think we should phone Hardy and get him to look at that, then we can try and get him to investigate your other theory.’
Chapter Twenty
DI Hardy looked at the article for much longer than the time needed to grasp its meaning, by which I realized that he hadn’t grasped its importance. I explained, ‘It states in the final paragraph that Music Magic has recently celebrated its sixteenth anniversary and that the circulation continues to increase. All very nice, but the point as far as we’re concerned is the date the magazine went on sale for the first time. Sixteen years ago would make in 1966. Our theory, or rather Eve’s, was that Robbie Roberts, the former Northern Lights musician who founded Music Magic, got the working capital needed by filching music written by Crowther and recording it, creaming in the royalties. However, the Mystery Minstrel didn’t appear until 1968, by which time this magazine was well established.’
‘So on that basis, you think we should discount Roberts as a suspect?’
‘Perhaps not entirely. Don’t have him down as a non-runner; just lengthen the odds against him.’
‘OK, who do I chalk up as favourite?’
I looked at Eve. This was down to her. She’d been the one who had devised the plan she was about to put to Hardy. ‘Our prime suspect is now a man called Tony Kendall. He was the Northern Lights keyboard player until Crowther joined the group. There wouldn’t be room for two members playing the same instrument, so Kendall had to go. This would have left him very bitter, I guess. Added to that, from what people have told us about him, Kendall is the type who worshipped money, and would go to any lengths to get it.’
Eve paused for a second, gathering her thoughts, then continued, ‘I asked Crowther whether Kendall might have heard him playing one of the pieces that were later recorded by the Mystery Minstrel and realized the potential. Crowther isn’t sure. He only played it through two or three times, because he wasn’t satisfied with it. The alternative is that if Kendall saw the sheet music lying around, that could have been enough to inspire him to steal it.’ She stopped and looked at me. I knew my cue and took up the story.
‘We have a few problems regarding Kendall, though.’
‘What might they be?’
‘The first is that as far as we can tell, nobody has seen Kendall since the day he left Northern Lights. I say, as far as we can tell, because we do have one idea, but it’s a fairly long shot, and we have nothing to confirm it as yet. The second, is that even if we locate Kendall we have absolutely no proof. All we’re working on is guesswork and supposition.’
Hardy chuckled. ‘They seem to have worked well enough for you in the past.’
‘The other stumbling block,’ I added, not wanting to make things too easy for him, ‘is that we’re fairly certain that Kendall, or whoever is responsible, isn’t working alone. We believe they have an accomplice, someone working within Pattison’s company, and that person has been passing information about our activities. What we don’t know is who that person is.’
‘Any other problems?’ Hardy smiled, robbing the question of any hint of sarcasm. ‘Not that those aren’t big enough.’
‘No, I think that about covers it.’
‘What was your idea?’
I handed the conversational baton back to Eve. ‘When we were in Harrogate the other day I went shopping with Sheila Bell. In the process we went in a shop named Kendall Antiques and it made me wonder if that was the same Kendall.’
Hardy looked sceptical.
Eve explained her reasoning before
I asked. ‘I seem to remember you had fingerprint evidence from the car involved in Thompson’s death, is that right?’
‘We do, and DS Middleton from Leeds also matched it to a single print found in Mitchell’s garage.’
‘Even better, because Eve has an idea as to how to prove one way or the other if it is the same Kendall, and if he is behind the murders.’
Eve, explained. ‘I thought that if someone were to go into the shop with an item and ask for a valuation for insurance purposes, they would be able to walk out with a sheet of paper with Kendall’s prints on, ready for comparison. We would have gone ahead and done it, but for one of the problems that Adam outlined. If we’re right, and one of the conspirators works in Pattison Music and Management, and they happened to be around when we went in, they’d be certain to recognize us, and the game would be up.’ Eve gave Hardy little chance to ponder over this before continuing, ‘However, they wouldn’t get suspicious if a stranger walked in.’
‘I suppose I could get someone to do that. Which, I guess is the reason you asked me here.’
‘Only part of the reason,’ Eve replied.
Hardy thought for a moment. ‘So where do we find an antique? It would need to be something valuable, something worth insuring as a separate item.’
‘I thought of that too. The sign actually said Kendall Antiques: Fine Arts and Antique Jewellery.’ Eve reached across and took a jewel case from the dresser drawer. She opened it and laid it on the table. ‘How about this?’ she asked.
Hardy stared at the necklace with admiration. The perfect ovals of the rich, red stones stood out sharply against the brilliant translucence of those gems surrounding each one. He gestured towards the jewellery. ‘Are those what I think?’
‘Rubies in a diamond setting,’ Eve confirmed. ‘They were commissioned by my great-grandfather as a wedding gift for his young bride. My great-grandmother also had another one which he had made for their silver wedding. That one was passed down to my sister. It has sapphires instead of rubies though.’
‘We don’t have much time before the concert,’ I pointed out, ‘and it would ease Crowther’s mind considerably if we were to get this resolved before he goes on stage. Which reminds me, we were going to ask you if you would like to go along in an official capacity, together with DS Middleton and one or two other officers. That way we might wrap the whole business up.’
‘That sounds like a good plan. I think it best to appoint officers rather than ask for volunteers, though. I don’t want to get knocked over in the rush. I’ll leave this necklace here and ask Johnny Pickersgill to take it through to Harrogate tomorrow, get the valuation, take the document to the fingerprint guys, and return your jewels.’
The day before the concert, when I was on my daily run to Allerscar in my role as gardening assistant, Eve took a phone call from Lew Pattison. ‘He wants you to travel to Harrogate,’ she told me. ‘Apparently the TV producer is keen to talk to you, to discuss your part in the concert.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I said that wasn’t possible. I told Lew you were already behind with work on your next book, and that was because you’d been spending far too much time looking after his clients and dealing with their problems, as well as acting as host for them. I said your publishers were getting twitchy about you meeting the deadline they set you for delivery of the manuscript.’
I stared at my intended with admiration. She looked so innocent and guileless, it was virtually impossible to believe her capable of uttering such a tissue of lies and half-truths. ‘I don’t have a deadline to meet,’ I pointed out weakly.
‘I know that, and you know that, but Lew doesn’t. If that TV producer is so desperate to talk to you, let him drive here from Harrogate. I don’t see the need, myself.’
‘Did Lew give any indication of what the man wants from me?’
‘None whatsoever. I told him they could either phone you or come here. Alternatively, they’d have to wait until tomorrow. That can’t have been satisfactory, because he rang back a few minutes later to inform me that they will be coming here later today, and to make sure we’re in. I told him I couldn’t give any guarantees, they’d have to take their chance. To be honest I was a bit annoyed with Lew. He’s not usually that inconsiderate.’
‘Maybe he’s feeling the pressure. This is a big event, after all.’
‘There are other ways of dealing with pressure than taking it out on other people, though.’
Pattison’s car pulled up outside Eden House just as Eve was on the point of serving dinner, which caused her to suffer a distinct sense of humour failure. I think Pattison could tell she was fuming, because he promised not to keep us a minute longer than was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, I don’t think his companion, who I judged to be in his mid-to-late-twenties, was listening, or if he was, he paid little heed.
He took me through every aspect of television appearance, speaking slowly and reiterating several points, as if talking to someone for whom a TV set is a novelty. I listened, my increasing frustration wearing away at my patience, until he began to lecture me on the art of talking to camera. ‘Many people find the experience too stressful to cope with,’ he said, ‘which is why I wanted you to come through to Harrogate so we could have a trial run, so to speak. Just to get you familiar with the technique.’
‘I’m immensely grateful for your thoughtfulness.’ As I spoke, I saw Eve wince at my sarcastic tone. ‘Just how stressful do you think speaking to camera with an audience of a thousand people can be? Tell me how you think it compares, for example, to recording a live news report with mortar shells exploding all round you, machine gun bullets flying past, and your cameraman having to stop shooting in mid-sentence because he’s been hit by shrapnel?’
‘Er … no … I don’t suppose it does compare. Have you done that?’
‘I have, and when you’ve spent as many hours talking to camera as I have, perhaps you will appreciate that it holds no terrors for me.’
I dare not look at Eve, so I glanced at Gerry and Sheila instead. That was a mistake, because Crowther was biting his lip, while Sheila was examining the wallpaper intently. To give him his due, the producer realized his mistake and apologized, and a few minutes later they departed. Before they left, Pattison assured Gerry that he had organised personal security for both him and Trudi at the venue. ‘Or rather, I got Harvey Jackson to sort it out. You remember Harvey, don’t you?’
‘Yes, he was a friend of Billy’s, I’d heard he was still with you,’ Crowther said.
‘There will be quite a few from the old days there tomorrow. Harvey’s secretary, Judith Lane, for one, plus Melissa Norton, Graham Stead, and Barry Walker.’
‘You must pay them well, to keep them all this time.’
‘Please tell them that.’ Pattison turned to me. ‘I did what you asked, Adam, or rather I got Graham to do it. He checked that tune out, and the only recording of it in existence is the one by the Mystery Minstrel. We’d better get off now. I left Alice at the hotel, and we haven’t dined yet.’
‘Neither have we,’ Eve reminded him.
I was still standing in the middle of the room, in a state of shocked silence as Eve ushered them through the front door. What Lew had told me made no sense. If no other recording of the tune existed, how come I’d heard a different version on the radio? I was sure I hadn’t been mistaken, but now I was beginning to doubt both my memory and the evidence of my own ears. The version I’d heard on the radio was too dissimilar to that on the record I’d bought for me to have been wrong.
‘Now perhaps we can have dinner. I only hope it hasn’t been spoilt,’ Eve remarked acidly.
She was still speaking when the doorbell rang. Charlie’s giggle earned him a murderous glare from his aunt, who wheeled and marched down the corridor towards the front door like an invading soldier. I feared for the safety of whoever was on the other side of it. She flung the door open and paused, her aggression almost visibly draining awa
y as she stared at the amiable face of our village policeman, who looked somewhat taken aback on seeing the virago in front of him.
‘Sorry to intrude,’ he told her. ‘Is this a bad time? Only, I wanted to return your necklace as soon as possible.’ He led out the jewel case.
‘Sorry, Johnny, I was on the point of serving dinner. Do you want to come in for a minute?’
He stepped through into the hallway. ‘I won’t keep you. I only wanted to give you this, and to let you know the mission was successfully accomplished. I got a valuation letter with the man’s prints on it. It’s gone off to the fingerprint guys for checking. While I was there, I had a look round and spotted the old musical instruments. I think young Charlie could be on to something.’
‘Can you describe the man who gave you the valuation letter?’
The interruption came from Crowther who had followed Eve. Pickersgill turned to look at him for a moment. ‘Fairly ordinary, about your age and size.’
‘What about his hair?’
‘The lighting in the shop was so poor it would be difficult to say. Mid-brown, I think, neatly trimmed, that’s about all I can remember.’
‘In that case I don’t think the man you saw was Tony Kendall. He was already losing his hair when I knew him, and that’s nigh on twenty years ago. He’d be bald as an egg by now, I reckon. What do you think, Sheila?’
She shook her head. ‘I never actually met him. I think I saw him on stage with Northern Lights once, but by the next gig I attended, he’d left the group.’ She smiled. ‘I wasn’t your groupie at that point, remember.’
Johnny was about to leave when he turned and said, with concern, ‘By the way, I hope you actually do have that necklace insured. According to the bloke who examined it, it’s worth well into five figures. I’ll get you a copy of the valuation if you need it.’
