by Claire McNab
“How long ago was this, when you glanced at the book?” Carol smiled to herself over “glanced”-she was sure Nicole would have avidly read it.
“A few months ago. I didn’t mean to do it, I just happened to see it…”
“So you didn’t see it recently?”
“Well…” A little girl voice. “I think Colly knew I’d peeked. He started locking the journal in his desk, or taking it with him.”
Carol’s tone was one of mild interest. “So he might have had it with him in the hotel?”
“It isn’t here. I’ve looked everywhere, so Colly must’ve taken it with him.”
“We didn’t find it in the hotel room.”
“Where is it, then?” said Nicole petulantly.
Carol didn’t want to give her a chance to embark upon a fruitless conversation about the whereabouts of the journal, as she was sure whoever had killed Raeburn had taken it. She said, “When you did read a little of it, was there anything in particular you remember?”
“Yes,” said Nicole triumphantly. “He said Alanna Brooks was a bitch. That she was just using him.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
Nicole was angry with Carol’s obtuseness. “She was sleeping with Colly. Taking advantage of him. She didn’t care about him at all, but at first he thought she did.”
“They were having an affair?”
“I just told you so!” Nicole snapped. Then, changing to a note of complaint, “Is it any wonder Colly was so upset he didn’t know what he was doing? That’s why he took too many pills-she made him so unhappy and angry. If you like, she killed him!”
Douglas Binns was anxiously contrite. “Inspector, I’m afraid Miss Brooks is still in the rehearsal room walking through her movements for Turandot.” He coughed apologetically. “You could wait in her dressing room…”
“Would you take us to the rehearsal room, please.”
He hesitated, then said, “Of course.”
Carol and Anne followed him through the familiar low-roofed wide corridors, across the Green Room and down a flight of stairs to a large octagonal room with a high ceiling and mirrored walls. Colored plastic tape laid in patterns lined the polished wooden floor. Alanna Brooks was deep in conversation with a small dark-haired man.
“That’s the conductor,” said Binns in a hushed voice. He seemed to want to keep them occupied so they wouldn’t interrupt what he obviously considered an important conversation. He indicated the tape on the floor. “There’s a different color for each opera. Singers have to know the positions of the flats in each scene, and, of course, where the doors are.” Seeing Anne blinking at a large sign which declared, extraordinarily, NO JUMPING AFTER 7:30, he added, “This rehearsal room’s sandwiched in the middle-the Concert Hall’s above us, and the Drama Theater’s below…”
Carol left him with Anne and strode over to Alanna Brooks, who looked up, startled, as she approached. She muttered an excuse to the conductor, then advanced to meet Carol. “Inspector Ashton? I told Douglas I’d be delayed.”
“It’s necessary I speak with you immediately.”
Alanna’s voice was polite, her expression strained. “Of course. Do you want to go to the Green Room, or my dressing room?”
“Somewhere private.”
The narrow window of the dressing room poured dazzling light into their eyes. With a muttered comment, Alanna pulled curtains across to block the glare. “Please sit down.” She licked her lips. “Now, what is it?”
Carol waited until Anne had notebook and pen ready, then she said, “We interviewed Lloyd Clancy this morning.”
Alanna sat very still. “Yes?” she said.
“Why did you wait so long before threatening to take some action against him? You must have known last weekend what he’d said on Saturday night.”
“Inspector, I didn’t know then. I saw you after Aïda on Friday, then went on to a party. James Kant was there and he told me what Lloyd had said-it was the first I’d heard.”
James Karit was a well-known opera and theater critic and had been one of the four Lloyd Clancy had accosted at the Museum of Modern Art; Carol had no doubt he would corroborate her story. “Do you mean to take Mr. Clancy to court, or is it just a threat to shut him up?”
Alanna narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re implying. I don’t need to shut him up, as you put it.”
Carol said pleasantly, “So this is a serious matter, from your point of view?”
“It’s obvious it is.”
Ignoring the edge in Alanna’s voice, Carol said, “It seems you didn’t tell me the truth about your relationship with Collis Raeburn.”
Her expression didn’t change, but she straightened in the chair. “I believe I did.”
“I have it on good authority that during the last year you were lovers. Is that true?”
“No.”
Carol raised her eyebrows fractionally. The silence hung in the room. At last Alanna said, “We weren’t exactly lovers. I went to bed with him a couple of times, that’s all.”
I can hardly ask if you used condoms… “Why did you lie before?” Carol’s slight emphasis on “lie” made Alanna flinch.
Alanna said earnestly, “It didn’t seem relevant. And I didn’t want to think about it. It was a stupid thing to do and Collis only despised me for it.” She looked for some sign of acceptance. “That’s why I didn’t want to say anything.”
Another pause which Carol deliberately let last until even Anne shifted in her chair. Alanna said, almost desperately, “Is that all? I’ve got to get back…”
“Is there anything else you haven’t been completely truthful about?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Lloyd Clancy?”
Her expression hardened. “About Lloyd,” she said firmly, “I’ve been absolutely truthful. I don’t usually hate people, but with Lloyd I could make an exception.”
Anne waited until they’d been cleared by security at the stage door entrance. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”
“Partly.”
Anne fished her sunglasses out of her bag. “I’d hate to be the person to have to tell Raeburn’s lovers that he might have given them HIV-but somebody has to.”
Carol nodded, thinking of Pat James’s younger brother. “I think the news will be out soon.” As Anne looked at her with surprise, she added, “An arrest for murder should do it.”
“Inspector Ashton… Carol,” said Sykes, smiling winningly.
Carol looked stonily at his sleek, self-satisfied face. “Mr. Sykes?”
“As a matter of good PR, I think the time’s right for a statement on your progress with the investigation. I’m afraid the news about Alanna Brooks suing her leading man has stirred things up. I’ve spoken to Eureka Opera’s public relations person, and she agrees we need some damage control here.”
“We?”
He looked taken aback at her tone. “It’s a matter of cooperation. Eureka has been besieged by the media, just as we have. Collis Raeburn’s funeral is on Thursday and that’ll be, I fully expect, an international media event. It would be advantageous if you could indicate something definite by Wednesday.”
“You want the whole case neatly tied up and presented by Wednesday?”
“Not the full written report, of course, but an indication…”
“The Commissioner sent you to say this?”
Even Sykes was not immune to Carol’s contemptuous anger. He flushed as he said, “Not exactly. After all, it is my area-public relations, that is.”
Carol had a sudden thought. “Has Kenneth Raeburn been talking to you?” She didn’t need his reply, his expression was enough. “And is Mr. Raeburn insisting that I find his son’s death was an accident?”
“He believes it was.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sykes.”
He didn’t accept her dismissal. “Inspector Ashton, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to tell you how to do your job…”
&n
bsp; “No?” said Carol caustically. “Then just what are you trying to do?”
She expected the phone call from Kenneth Raeburn. “Inspector Ashton, I’d like to see you.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Raeburn, but I’m on a very tight schedule. Could we discuss it on the phone?”
“Not really.”
You bastard. You think there’s a chance this call might be recorded. “Could you give me some indication?”
“I’m concerned about your investigation, Inspector. It’s ten days since my son’s body was discovered and you seem no closer to establishing that it was an accident. As you know, the funeral is in two days, there’ll be a great deal of publicity, and people will want answers.”
“I’m afraid an investigation doesn’t run to a set agenda, so it’s impossible to predict exactly when it will end.”
“I insist on seeing you tomorrow. It won’t be necessary for me to take this higher, will it, Inspector?”
Carol controlled her anger, ignored his last question and made a time to see him.
She sat frowning after the call. Was there any point in going to the Commissioner?
“To hell with it!” she said, startling Anne, who had paused in the doorway. “Yes, Anne?”
“Simon Sykes gave me this media release for you to vet. He didn’t want to see you himself, just asked if you’d glance at it and make any changes.”
Carol smiled cynically. “You know,” she said, “I think Simon Sykes might be just a little scared of me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Carol got up early the next morning, David, in rumpled pajamas, was already in the kitchen. “Mum, can I stay with you and Auntie Sarah for the rest of the week?”
“Darling, I’m on a case, so I may not see that much of you.” Expecting his pout, she smiled when it appeared. “All right, I’ll ask your father. He’s back tonight and Eleanor was going to pick you up tomorrow, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Can I come on the run with you?”
She rumpled his blond hair. “If you hurry.”
David kept up with her for the first ten minutes, then began to fall behind. She slowed to a walk as they reached the bush path. “Do you run the whole way, Mum?”
“Yes, but I do it every morning, that’s why I can.”
“If I lived with you, I could do it too.”
Warmed by his words, she put an arm around his shoulders. “Aren’t you happy with your father and Eleanor?”
“Yes. But I like being with you.”
“David, I love having you here and you can come as often as you like, you know that.”
He looked up at her. “Why’s Sybil gone away?”
Say something direct, Carol. You owe him that much.
“You know how your Dad and Eleanor love each other-how they do things together, sleep in the same room…”
“Well, they’re married, Mum,” he said, making it clear this was self-evident.
“Sybil and I are like that… it’s just like we’re married.”
“Then why’s she moved out?”
“Because we’re not getting on at the moment. We’ve got some problems we’re trying to work out.”
David looked sideways at her for a long moment. Then he said, “Can we start jogging again?”
That’s enough. It’s a beginning.
“Sure,” said Carol, “but I bet you can’t keep up.”
While David was dressing for school, Carol had breakfast with Aunt Sarah, who frowned at Carol’s toast and black coffee, but managed not to give her usual lecture on health foods. Carol defiantly poured herself a second cup of coffee, ignoring her aunt’s muttered comment. “I said something on the run this morning about Sybil and me. If David asks you any questions, please answer them.”
“He won’t, Carol. David must have picked up something from Justin’s casual remarks or assumptions made about you and Sybil being together… that sort of thing. Now you’ve given David a bit more to think about. He’ll fit it all together, and when he’s ready, he’ll ask you what he wants to know.”
“I may not have the luxury of waiting-Kenneth Raeburn’s leaning on me.”
“What about the calls on your answering machine?”
“I know who made those,” she said with dour satisfaction. “But that’s not necessarily much help.”
Aunt Sarah patted her hand. “If you’re outed, you’re outed,” she said. “And there’s probably nothing you can do about it.”
Carol wanted the relief of losing her temper, breaking something, screaming her rage. Instead she said calmly, “Except to find that Collis Raeburn’s death was an accident. That would take the heat off.”
“At least you’ve got a choice.”
“You know, my dear Aunt, that I haven’t.”
“Tsk,” said Aunt Sarah. “Principles are such a curse.”
Kenneth Raeburn had insisted that they meet outside her office. “I’m staying at the Park Royal. It’d be more convenient if we met in the foyer.”
Carol was early, and had brought Anne with her. Kenneth Raeburn, chest out, standing as tall as possible, was already there. He frowned when he saw the constable. “I’m sorry. What I have to say is confidential. There can be no third party.”
Edgy and impatient, he still spoke in his usual soft half-whisper. Although his well-cut dark suit was appropriate to the hotel’s elegance, his broken nose and insolent stare seemed incongruous. “Well?” he demanded.
Carol directed Anne to wait out of earshot, then sat down with him on a plush lounge. “Why is this confidential? Constable Newsome is assisting the investigation and is quite aware of all developments.”
His gesture dismissed her comment. “I don’t want to waste time. I expect you to find that Collis died by a combination of unfortunate circumstances. It was not suicide, not murder, but an accident.”
Carol was equally terse. “You’re not in a position to dictate the results of my investigation.”
“What would it hurt you to come to this conclusion?” His voice, almost inaudible, shook with tension. “The mere suggestion of anything else will ensure that the inquest is a circus, and will destroy his memory, not to mention what it will do to Nicole.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take any of that into consideration. I’m only concerned with the truth.”
“The truth?” he sneered. “You don’t tell the truth about yourself…”
Carol wanted to hit him. She said in a controlled voice, “This has nothing to do with me personally. I’ve got a job to do, and I’m doing it.”
“It’s a matter of your arrogance, Inspector. You refuse to see his death as a sad, unnecessary accident. You want it to be murder, because that gives you so much more publicity, doesn’t it? You’re in this for your own glory, so don’t pretend to have any high ideals.”
“There’s no point in continuing this conversation.”
Raeburn nodded to himself, as though satisfied with her hostile response. “Don’t leave. You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
“Mr. Raeburn, attempting to influence a police officer is a criminal offense.”
He laughed contemptuously. “Don’t give me that. You must know I’ll deny everything, and frankly, I don’t imagine you’re recording this. You know what I’m going to say, and you’d hardly want your colleagues to hear it.”
“There’s nothing you can say that will change my findings one way or the other.”
“No? I’ve had you investigated by a discreet and very expensive private detective. You live with a Sybil Quade, who was a suspect in one of your cases. Now she’s your lover.” He paused for her reaction. When her expression didn’t change he said contemptuously, “Detective Inspector Carol Ashton, closet lesbian. Is that why you’re persecuting Collis’s memory? Because you think he was queer, and you hate that in him, as you must in yourself?”
Armored by her icy rage, Carol said, “Did you encourage your daughter to leave threatening messages on my answering m
achine, or was it her own idea?”
“I’m not here to answer questions. I’m here to tell you what it would be very wise for you to do.”
He rose from the lounge as she did, looking up at her with venomous intent. “Let me make you a promise, Inspector. Unless you find that his death was an accident, you’ll face the consequences. You ruin Collis’s reputation-I’ll ruin yours.”
“This better be urgent,” said the Commissioner. “I’ve rescheduled an appointment with the Minister because of you.”
Even though the Commissioner had previously given his full public and personal support to gay and lesbian police officers when a splinter group had attempted to out them, Carol still felt a stinging apprehension as she said evenly, “Kenneth Raeburn is trying to blackmail me into making a report that presents his son’s death as an accident.”
“Blackmail you? How?”
Carol put the miniature tape player on his desk. “I had an idea that’s what he was going to do, so I was wired. Constable Newsome observed our meeting, but wasn’t within earshot.” She pressed the play button and sat down. Raeburn’s voice was soft, but clear. Without comment they listened through to the end.
She didn’t expect his response. “Sybil Quade, eh? The Bellwether murders?”
“Yes.”
Frowning, he rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “You’re not denying what he says?”
She met his gaze directly. “About being a lesbian? No.” She needed to say something more. “But that’s my private life. It has nothing to do with my job.”
“It shouldn’t have anything to do with it, you mean.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Tough it out, Carol.”
“You don’t think I’m compromised? You’re not taking me off the case?”
The Commissioner looked irate. “Because of Kenneth Raeburn? Hell, no.” He gave her a slight smile. “Or because you’re gay? Hell no, again.”
She returned his smile, her respect for him at a new level.
As she turned to go, he said, “Want my advice? Have Bourke threaten to charge Raeburn with trying to pervert the course of justice-that should shut him up for a while. If you’re sure about the daughter, suggest she might be charged too. And close the murder case as fast as you can. It’ll be out of Raeburn’s hands then and he’s not as likely to cause trouble for you, or for himself. Basically what I’m saying, Carol, is if you can make an arrest, make it now.”
