by Bill Kitson
‘Thanks, Johnny, but that won’t be necessary.’
Later that evening, I was sitting in the study making some plot notes for the next book I’d got planned, when Crowther entered the room.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ he asked.
‘No, I’d just about finished.’
‘Oh, good, because I wanted to ask you something.’ He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing how to continue. ‘When Lew told you about that tune, I could see it disturbed you in some way. Why was that?’
‘I still don’t believe what I heard on the radio was the same as what’s on that record.’ I gestured towards the record player.
‘Could it have been someone playing live?’
‘No, it wasn’t that sort of show.’
‘You said before there was something special about it. Something to do with the guitar?’
‘It was the way it was played. I definitely heard it, and there isn’t one on the recorded version.’
‘What sort of guitar was it?’
The question was ordinary enough, and my answer was straightforward. I certainly couldn’t have predicted the effect my reply would have on Crowther – and on me. ‘That’s easy, because you don’t hear them often these days. It was a Hawaiian guitar.’
Gerry clutched the back of a nearby chair for support, and I noticed his knuckles were white with the tight grip he had on the wood. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘When I composed that tune, I wrote the riff for a Hawaiian guitar. As far as I’m aware, the only other person who knew that was Billy Quinn.’
‘Did he use a Hawaiian guitar when you and he tried the song out? Perhaps someone else, the thief perhaps, overheard it played that way and copied it.’
‘If they’d done that, surely they would have put it on the record. It’s too good to leave out. Besides which, we didn’t have access to a Hawaiian guitar when we played it. The only reason we gave it a run through was so I could tell whether it was worth continuing with.’
I smoothed the hairs on the back of my neck down. If there was a logical explanation, I certainly couldn’t think of one. And neither, to judge from his expression, could Gerry Crowther.
Chapter Twenty-one
We’d been asked to report to the venue by 10 a.m. next day, which made for a very early start, for me and Crowther. We took Charlie with us to help speed up the work. The task of ferrying him to and fro was becoming a bit of a chore. Admittedly the fresh produce and newly laid eggs were more than welcome, but I’d be glad when the matter was resolved and our lives could return to normal. I’m not averse to company, or to having guests in the house, but it seemed as if Eve and I had barely any time to ourselves.
Mind-reading was something I’ve never been proficient at, but perhaps Crowther sensed some of what I was thinking. ‘I’m sorry, this must be an awful bore for you. It can’t be easy being landed with the three of us, and having all this to do as well. To be honest, Adam, I’ll be glad when tonight’s over with. Perhaps then, Sheila and I can start our life together and I can get to know my daughter properly. So, if I feel that way, you and Eve must be really frustrated at the unwanted company.’
Naturally, I protested, but how much of what I said he believed is another matter. We got the chores out of the way as quickly as possible and returned to Eden House before eight o’clock, with Crowther nursing a tray of our breakfast on his lap.
The process of filming a performance such as the concert Trudi was to appear in was new to me, despite my former career. My filming had been unrehearsed, on the spot, often with events unfolding in the background, and little chance for more than a single take. The spectacular, which was the TV company’s description, not mine, featured a combination of established stars, some household names, plus up-and-coming talent such as Trudi. All the acts were to be introduced by a comedian, whose role as compère befitted his status as a household name.
His task was made more difficult by the number of retakes, involving panning shots, tracking shots, sound level changes, lighting modification, and any number of other difficulties that prevented perfection. Despite the comedian’s undoubted talent, the whole process soon became tiresome, and after a particularly trying half hour, where every aspect of filming one act went wrong in turn, I nudged Eve. ‘Let’s get out of here while they’re setting up the next take,’ I whispered. ‘If I hear that joke about the three men in the desert one more time, I’ll scream. I vote we go for some lunch.’
Accompanied with some reluctance by Charlie, who was clearly anxious not to miss Trudi’s rehearsal, we left the venue and headed towards town.
One of the disadvantages I’d found from living in a village was the unavailability of a fish and chip shop. In suggesting we have this delicacy for lunch, I was conscious that we should not be absent for too long, in case I was called on to rehearse. ‘Good idea,’ Eve agreed, ‘but perhaps on the way I could show you that antiques shop.’
‘And that’s another good idea, but we’d better not be seen walking past in case someone recognizes us. We wouldn’t want to put the villains on their guard if it does happen to be connected.’
‘You still don’t think it’s the same Kendall, do you?’
‘I’m not saying that. It could well be, but equally, it could be someone totally different.’
‘One good thing, from our point of view – literally, is that the shop is close to a road junction, so we’d be able to observe the front of the building from the street corner without being visible from inside.’
Less than five minutes’ walk brought us to where Eve indicated the shop. ‘It’s along that road to the left, about four doors down.’
We reached the junction. Fortunately traffic was quite heavy, giving us chance to look round, whilst apparently assessing whether it was safe to cross the road. I looked towards the shop, but before I had chance to take in more than the name, Eve dragged me back by one arm, doing the same to Charlie with the other. ‘Quick, inside here,’ she hissed urgently.
We were standing in the entrance to a barber’s shop. She thrust us through the door and tugged at our sleeves. ‘Turn to face the inside of the shop,’ she ordered.
‘Why, what’s wrong?’ I asked as I obeyed.
Eve peered cautiously from between me and Charlie, who looked as perplexed as I felt. After a moment, she relaxed. ‘It’s OK, she’s gone now. Didn’t you see her?’
‘See who? I didn’t get chance to see anyone.’ I looked at Charlie, who shrugged.
‘Coming out of the antiques shop. It was Pattison’s secretary, Melissa Norton.’
‘I didn’t see her. You dragged us in here before I noticed anyone or anything apart from the shop sign. Are you certain it was her? You couldn’t have mistaken her for someone else?’
I was on the receiving end of one of Eve’s withering glances. Her tone was as icy as her expression. ‘Of course I’m certain. I think that more or less proves the connection, don’t you?’
‘Unless she was buying a whatnot for her Aunt Agatha.’
The stare got even colder, but before Eve could respond, the shop owner came forward to greet us. I hadn’t particularly needed a haircut, but couldn’t at that precise moment think up another excuse for having entered the shop. After an expensive but admittedly professional trim, I suggested we head for lunch.
‘Did you see the woman, Charlie?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t have known her even if I had. I wasn’t with you the day you went to Mr Pattison’s offices.’
‘One thing I did notice, before you manhandled me into the shop,’ I told Eve, ‘is the sign over Kendall Antiques window. According to that there are branches in Harrogate, London, and Cheltenham.’
‘Sounds like a profitable business.’
‘That’s true, but the point is, all three of those are very expensive places to set up a business.’
‘Oh, I see what you mean.’
‘The cost of renting a shop, plus the local rate
s would be steep compared to other places. And that’s before you stock it.’
‘Wouldn’t that be the same everywhere?’ Charlie asked.
‘Not necessarily, because the sort of items offered for sale in an upmarket place like this would be dearer to buy than a town where the residents aren’t as well-heeled. And the more expensive the stock, the more of your working capital is tied up until it sells, and then you’ve to replace them. It’s a vicious circle.’
I thought about the sighting, and it more or less convinced me Eve was right in her assumption. There could be little chance of an innocent reason for Melissa Norton going into Kendall Antiques. She had to be his accomplice. It must have been through her information that he realized the danger posed by us asking questions about Northern Lights and Crowther, and the potential threat should either Mitchell or Thompson talk about their part in events years ago.
‘We ought to tell Hardy, don’t you agree, Adam?’
We’d reached the fish and chip shop and were waiting for a table to come free in the restaurant area. ‘Certainly, but not until we’ve eaten.’
Getting hold of Hardy proved harder than we’d hoped. Holding a meaningful conversation with officers at Dinsdale police headquarters, whilst feeding coins into the public call box, proved both frustrating and unrewarding. Eventually, as my stock of change was dwindling towards zero, I was told that Detective Inspector Hardy was out of the office, and that they couldn’t tell me when he would return.
‘That was a complete waste of time and money,’ I said when I emerged from the phone box, allowing the heavy door to slam to behind me. I explained what little I’d learned. ‘Why don’t you phone Johnny Pickersgill,’ Eve suggested. ‘Ask him to contact Hardy and tell him what we saw. It’s got to be better than feeding coins into that all day.’
Unfortunately, Pickersgill wasn’t at home either, but I left a message as best I could. His wife took delight in telling me that she and Johnny would be attending the concert. ‘There were some spare tickets, and DI Hardy wants us there. Apparently, as the concert recording has been cancelled a couple of times, the TV people are desperate to fill the seats so that the whole thing looks and sounds better. I’m really looking forward to it.’
‘What should we do now?’ Eve asked as we wandered through the town centre.
‘I think we ought to go back to the Centre, but keep a low profile for the time being. Without a police presence as back up, we could risk putting ourselves in danger, or tipping off Kendall and Melissa Norton.’
‘Maybe we should leave it a while before going back,’ Eve suggested. ‘I think I’d be uncomfortable if that woman is there, knowing what we do.’
‘OK, we’ll continue, but as long as you promise all we’re doing is window shopping.’
Out of my eye corner I saw Charlie grin. ‘Something funny?’ I asked.
The cold tone in my voice didn’t deter him. ‘No, I was just thinking it was like being out with my mum and dad.’
It was a pleasantly warm afternoon spent wandering around. Charlie asked to visit the sports shop, but eventually, conscious that the producer would want me at some stage for a sound check, we ambled back to the Conference centre. We walked into the foyer, arriving in the middle of a minor crisis. It was clear that Lew Pattison was extremely angry by the ferocious scowl on his face. ‘Something wrong?’ I asked, displaying once more my talent for stating the obvious.
‘There’s been a king-sized mix up over the security arrangements for Gerry and Trudi,’ he growled. ‘The men were supposed to have arrived before now. I don’t know what the hell’s gone wrong. I’ve got Harvey Jackson and Barry Walker standing guard over Crowther, with Sheila and Graham Stead as Trudi’s minders. Left to myself I wouldn’t have bothered, the Centre staff are quite capable, but Gerry threw a wobbler and threatened to pull out, taking Trudi with him if I didn’t sort something out.’
He glared at us as if it was our doing, which I thought was somewhat ungrateful. ‘Have you found out what’s happened to the security men? Could they have been stuck in traffic, perhaps?’ Eve asked.
‘No, that’s another problem. I rang the company and the receptionist told me the only person who could tell me isn’t available at present, but if I ring back in another hour he should be out of his meeting. Normally I’d have Melissa or Judith dealing with this, but both of them seem to have gone walkabout. I don’t suppose you’ve seen either of them on your travels, have you?’
I was about to reply; to tell him we’d seen Melissa Norton in town, but Eve warned me off with a slight shake of her head. ‘Didn’t I say this concert was jinxed?’ Lew asked despairingly. ‘I was wrong, fated is more like it.’
We uttered polite meaningless words of consolation, and left Pattison to fume as he awaited news from the security company. Inside the auditorium, we sat down to watch the rehearsal, which seemed to have made little progress during our absence. Our enjoyment of a talented singing duo was brought to an end when Alice Pattison appeared behind us. She tapped Eve on the shoulder. ‘Lew wants to talk to you,’ she whispered. ‘It’s urgent, and he’s really upset.’
We followed her out of the auditorium, trying our best to do it silently. I hoped our departure wouldn’t be noticed, or taken as criticism of the singers on stage. Outside, Pattison was pacing up and down, at little short of a march. ‘I’ve just got hold of the managing director of the security firm. He was the one who took the order in the first place.’ He paused, and his expression got even grimmer, if that was possible. ‘He was also the one who took the phone call cancelling the men who were supposed to be here for tonight’s show.’
‘How come?’ Eve asked. ‘Who rescinded the order?’
‘He told me it was a woman, and that she said her name was Melissa Norton, and that she was my secretary. I can’t believe that Melissa would have done such a thing. Why on earth would she do that? If I don’t get a convincing explanation she’s about to become my ex-secretary.’
‘Have you asked her about it?’
‘No, that’s another thing, she’s disappeared. I tried the hotel where my people are booked in, and she isn’t there.’
‘I think we know why,’ Eve told him. ‘We didn’t mention it earlier, because we were waiting for the police to get here.’ She recounted our near meeting with Pattison’s secretary. ‘She was definitely coming out of the antiques shop, which we assume must belong to Tony Kendall. I think that proves beyond doubt who his accomplice within your firm is.’
‘Are you telling me that Melissa was involved in all this violence? All the deceit? I don’t believe it. I could quite easily imagine Kendall doing those terrible things. I could imagine him stealing Gerry’s music and passing it off as his own, but I can’t for one moment see Melissa being involved.’
Pattison looked from one to the other of us, seeing no support for his backing of the woman who worked for him. Even Alice seemed unconvinced by his protestations. It was, we knew, another classic case of someone being too close to the accused, and being unable to believe they could be wicked. If I had one niggling doubt, it was because I felt there was something that didn’t quite fit. One piece of information that was wrong, but I couldn’t at that moment put my finger on what it was.
‘One thing,’ I told him, trying to put a positive slant on what we’d heard, ‘if neither of them is here, there’s no immediate threat to Gerry or Trudi. Hopefully, by the time the audience begins arriving for the recording, Hardy and his men will be on site, and they will have all the protection they need.’
For once, it seemed my prediction was proved accurate, which made a pleasant change. We returned to the auditorium, in time to see Trudi perform the first of her songs. During the whole of the time they were on stage, Crowther stayed in deep shadow behind his keyboard. Obviously the producer had given detailed instructions to the lighting team. After a while, I was called to the front of house, and went on stage. I went through a sound test, commending Trudi, and introducing her backi
ng instrumentalist, with the immortal line, ‘Let’s have a big round of applause for Mickey Mouse.’
‘I thought you were going to give the game away,’ Crowther told me as we went backstage. ‘Mickey Mouse, indeed.’
‘It’s the ears, Gerry.’
I was relieved when Hardy, with a party of a dozen men and women, all smartly dressed, entered the auditorium shortly after the rehearsal of the finale had ended. I recognized Johnny Pickersgill and his wife amongst the group, but the rest were strangers. Having introduced us to his wife, Hardy explained, ‘There are seven male officers, plus four policewomen, all with their partners.’
‘How will we recognize them in an emergency?’ Eve asked.
‘Good question, but I thought of that. All the male officers are wearing a buttonhole.’ Hardy indicated his lapel, which sported a white rose. ‘The women all have a brooch of some description pinned to their dress.’
‘That works for me, let’s hope it isn’t necessary.’
‘I have news for you,’ Hardy told us. ‘Our fingerprint people confirmed that the prints on the valuation Pickersgill got from the antiques shop match those from the hit and run vehicle. So it seems that your theory was right and the shop owner is Tony Kendall. We have obtained an arrest warrant for him on suspicion of murder.’ Hardy paused before delivering the bad news. ‘Unfortunately, when we visited the shop to execute the warrant, there was no sign of him. The girl who was in charge told us he had left soon after lunch. He told her he was going on a buying trip and would be away for several days. Apparently this is quite a regular occurrence, so she thought no more about it. He didn’t indicate when he’d return.’
‘If he does return. It sounds to me like he’s done a runner.’
‘You may be right,’ Hardy agreed, ‘perhaps John Pickersgill’s acting isn’t as convincing as we’d hoped. It could be that his visit to the shop aroused Kendall’s suspicions.’
‘Maybe not,’ Eve told him. ‘It’s more probable that someone tipped him off that we were on to him. We tried to get word to you. Adam and I went for a walk earlier and we were close to the shop when we saw someone coming out. They could have recognized us and warned Kendall.’
