He wiped his plate clean with a piece of bread and chewed it thoroughly before replying. ‘Yes, he showed it to me. You had no choice, I’d say.’ He reached for the mug of tea.
‘Do you think so? I didn’t tell him any of those things. He didn’t ask me anything.’
‘No. He didn’t get them from me either, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
‘But…?’ She stared at him perplexed.
He took a sip of tea and placed the mug carefully back down on the tray. ‘He knew it all already.’ Brock straightened his spine against the back of the chair and flexed his shoulders. ‘I’m afraid I seriously underestimated our problem, Kathy. I shan’t do it again. The only thing to say on the positive side’ - he turned his neck slowly - ‘is that they do seem to have cured my bad shoulder.’
20
‘The other good thing,’ Brock said later, when they were washing their plates in the kitchen, ‘is this conference. They feel inhibited about disgracing me while I’m supposed to be representing the cream of my profession at an international conference. They feel bound to wait until I get back.’
‘You’re still going to Rome?’
‘Have to. I’m booked to fly out on Saturday. What day is it today? I’ve lost count.’
‘Thursday.’
‘That means it’s Good Friday tomorrow. Is that right?’
‘I suppose so,’ Kathy said. ‘I’d forgotten it was Easter. When will you get back?’
‘Well, it might be advisable for that date to become a little uncertain. The formal business of the conference finishes on Friday, but I suppose, if my paper was brilliant enough, my Italian colleagues might feel it necessary to ask me to extend my stay. I don’t actually use up all of my back leave until the middle of April.’
Kathy stared at the soapy water in the bowl, again wondering if he was telling her he was bowing out.
‘I don’t think,’ he said, wiping the last plate with the tea-towel, ‘that they’ll go for you until they’ve made up their mind what to do with me. I may be wrong, but that was the feeling I got. There were one or two interruptions, phone calls, in the course of their inquiries, concerning relations between forces. You are still formally on secondment from the Met, which makes it a little more awkward for them. And, of course, it now looks as if you were right about Petrou being murdered. Embarrassingly so. They won’t forgive you for that.’
Brock took the dishes over to the cupboard. ‘Let’s see, you’re “Eric”, aren’t you?’
‘How on earth did you know that?’ Kathy looked at him, astonished.
‘Jill told me. Nice girl. Patrick’s a pleasant fellow too. You’re lucky to have such good neighbours.’
‘And when did you meet them?’
‘About four in the morning. I woke up with a foul headache and went searching for an aspirin. Jill and Patrick were down here. They fixed me up.’
‘They were down here then?’
‘Mmm. Jill had just got in from some disco. She offered to take me next week, but I had to tell her I’d be in Rome. They did say they were a bit concerned about you.’
Kathy shook her head in disbelief. ‘You think … you think Division will just leave me in suspense for a while?’
‘Yes. They don’t need to rush. I think you should keep very quiet. Not do anything to attract anyone’s attention. Trust no one.’ It reminded her of Tanner’s earlier advice. ‘On the other hand, if you knew of ways to stay in touch -indirect, inconspicuous ways - it would be very useful to know what was going on.’
‘You haven’t told me what happened to Rose,’ she said.
Brock frowned and lowered his head. ‘I feel like some fresh air. Is there anywhere around here we can walk?’
They put on their coats, crossed the main road at the front of the house and followed a lane opposite that led down to the banks of the stream which flowed through the centre of Crowbridge. There was a path along the bank, wide enough for them to walk side by side, and they followed it slowly, watching the heavy current swirl past between clumps of willow and hawthorn.
‘Poor Rose,’ Brock said at last.
‘Tanner said we shared the responsibility for her death.’
‘Perhaps he’s right. It makes it worse that I was there and couldn’t prevent it. Hell, I don’t even know what happened! One moment I was feeling the first needle going in, and the next thing I remember was trying to get my legs out from underneath her body - twenty minutes later. I can’t blame them for being sceptical. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if a witness had told me that.’
‘But you’d passed out in similar circumstances before -Beamish-Newell could confirm it.’
‘Yes. I wonder if he did.’
‘Anyway, if you had been awake you’d have received the same treatment as Rose. How did they do it?’
‘Those treatment rooms are linked to one another by connecting doors. They must have been in one or other of the adjoining rooms and waited for Beamish-Newell to leave, then stepped in, cut Rose’s throat, locked the door to the corridor and switched off the light. Then back into the next room, take off the protective clothing - there was a hell of a mess, it must have been all over them - bundle it up and march off down the corridor.’
‘Pretty cool - and chancy. It would have to have been someone in the clinic who knew the routines. God, the more you think about it, the more difficult it sounds.’ Kathy shook her head. ‘And why do it anyway?’
‘Because they knew she was going to tell me something crucial. Something worth taking a risk for.’
‘Who knew she was going to talk to you?’
‘I don’t know. Grace Carrington, certainly, but I don’t know who else. Rose might have spoken to her boy-friend about it. Maybe even Laura Beamish-Newell.’
‘They couldn’t know that you would pass out. And they couldn’t know when Beamish-Newell was going to leave. Well, that’s not quite true, is it? One person could have known both those things: Beamish-Newell himself.’
‘Yes. He rearranged the time of my session. And it seems odd if he left the room knowing I’d passed out. I imagine he’s been giving a fairly detailed account of his movements after he left the room.’
‘As he did the first time - all lies. And anyway, people would only be able to vouch for him once he had left the room. They wouldn’t be able to say what he’d been doing before that, when he was alone with Rose and -’
‘And one ever-alert undercover detective,’ Brock muttered bitterly.
Later, when they turned to retrace their steps along the river bank, Kathy asked, ‘How about your paper to this conference? Did you get it finished?’
‘All but. It seems pretty spurious now, though. If it were any good, it should tell me how to solve this one.’
‘It was about serial crimes, wasn’t it?’
‘The hidden thread,’ Brock said without much conviction, ‘that links the actions of the serial killer. I’ve had plenty of time to ponder that over the last few days. But it’s amazing how much easier it is to spot in retrospect.’
Brock was anxious to get back home to London. Kathy could understand, but all the same she didn’t relish the prospect of being left in limbo without a future or a plan. Later that afternoon she walked part of the way with him to the vehicle yard attached to Division, where Brock’s car was being held. Rain was beginning to fall as they shook hands on a street corner and wished each other luck.
That evening she came upon Patrick in the kitchen.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘that it’s time I had a rusty nail.’
Over the following days she followed Brock’s advice, keeping a low profile and approaching no one at Division. On Tuesday the morning papers carried the news that an unnamed male employee of the clinic, aged thirty-three, had been taken to Division headquarters the previous evening, exactly one week after Rose’s murder, and was helping police with their inquiries. The local radio news repeated this through the day, but by evening had added nothing to i
t. At seven Penny Elliot rang.
‘Kathy, how are you? I thought you might have rung me.’
‘I wanted to, Penny, but I thought I’d better leave you alone.’
‘You sound depressed. Have you heard the news?’ ‘Only what’s been on the radio.’
‘They’ve charged someone. Someone called Geoffrey Parsons. Do you know him?’
‘Yes. He was the victim’s fiancé. What has he been charged with?’
‘Murder, I understand.’
‘One murder, or both?’
‘I’m not sure - just one, I think. Anyway, it vindicates you, doesn’t it?’
‘Maybe. Do you know what evidence they have?’
‘Well, not really, they’re being very tight-lipped down on the second floor. But one of my people claims to have heard that the girl was pregnant.’
Kathy shook her head. ‘Oh God. But it doesn’t make sense, Penny. Why would he have killed her, especially if she was carrying his child?’
‘Well, that’s the point, apparently. The rumour is that it wasn’t his. The blood group of the foetus was wrong. But it would have been right for the previous victim to have been the father.’
‘Petrou?’ Kathy was startled. ‘But she would have to have been at least five months gone.’
‘I imagine they won’t know for sure till they’ve done the DNA tests. Kathy, this is just hearsay. The place is buzzing with rumours. Can’t you get back in here and demand that they come clean with you about what they’ve found out? It was originally your case, after all. It isn’t right that they should put you in this position.’
‘Thanks, Penny. I’ll think about it. Maybe I should just wait awhile.’
‘You know best. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know the good news. Is there anything I can do to help?’
Kathy hesitated, then said, ‘Do you know the DC I had on the original investigation - Gordon Dowling? I’d like to get in touch with him, but I can’t seem to track him down.’
‘I know him, but I haven’t seen him around for a while. I’m not sure if he’s part of Tanner’s team at present.’
‘Very unlikely. He’s probably on suspension, like me.’
‘Oh, well, I’ll try to find out where he is.’
‘What about Belle Mansfield, in technical support? Have you seen her lately?’
‘The systems analyst? Yes, she came up in conversation the other day. She’s leaving, apparently. Handed in her notice.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘Was she involved?’
‘I’m not a good person to know at present, Penny. That’s why I didn’t want to contact you.’
The line was silent for a moment, and when Penny spoke again Kathy could hear the hesitation in her voice. ‘But Kathy, surely now … now they’ve caught the girl’s killer …’
‘If I’d done as I was told, she’d still be alive, Penny.’
‘You can’t think like that! You didn’t kill her!’
Kathy didn’t reply.
‘Kathy,’ Penny’s voice sounded worried, ‘you need help, somebody to talk to about this. I could speak to someone.’
‘No! No, Penny. I appreciate you ringing, but I just want to keep out of the way at present. If you could find out about Dowling, that would be a help. And if you do learn of any new developments, I’d really appreciate hearing about them.’
The days dragged. Kathy took to visiting the supermarket just to hear the sounds of normality and get away from the deathly silence of the house, but she always came back within an hour in case someone rang.
On the Thursday of that week, she decided in desperation to take the only positive step she could think of that wasn’t likely to get straight back to the investigating team at Division. She drove the twelve miles to Edenham, parked her car in the council car park behind the main street and walked into Jerry Hamblin’s greengrocer’s shop.
Jerry finished serving his customer with some remark, obviously catty, which Kathy didn’t catch but which had both Jerry and the woman cackling with laughter. Then he turned and his face dropped as he recognized her. ‘Oh my God! I thought I’d seen the last of you. It’s this business at the clinic, isn’t it? That’s what’s brought you back, like a bad smell.’
‘Hello, Jerry. No, I’m not involved in the investigation at all.’
There was a flatness to her voice that sounded genuine to Jerry and made him hesitate. ‘Why’re you here, then?’ he said, marginally less aggrieved.
‘I was just passing. Thought I’d have some more of your juicy grapes, if you still have them.’
‘It’s not the season, dear. Just passing, were you?’ He stared at her sceptically, and she looked back for a moment and then dropped her eyes.
‘Well … there was something. I’d hoped to see Errol, really.’
‘He’s not here, as you can see. What did you want him for?’
‘You are still together, then?’
‘Of course we are. Why shouldn’t we be?’
‘I hoped you were. I was afraid our investigation must have -’ she shrugged ‘- caused trouble for you.’
‘Yes, well, don’t bother yourself about that. Just leave us both well alone.’
‘When I was leading that inquiry, I said something to Errol that was unforgivable. I wanted to apologize to him.’
Jerry looked at her, incredulous. ‘The copper wants to apologize! Bloody hell! Whatever will they teach you next? And what was this thing you said?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Was it about Alex Petrou having Aids, by any chance?’ ‘Something like that. He told you?’
Jerry nodded. ‘Actually,’ he said, fiddling with the avocados on the tray in front of him, ‘your interfering probably did our relationship a bit of good. Brought a few things to the surface. We decided to make a fresh start. Went away at Christmas for the holiday of a lifetime, to the States - like a second honeymoon, you might say.’
‘I’m glad. I hope it works.’
‘God, you do sound pessimistic. Have you been having a rough day or something?’
‘Sorry.’ Kathy smiled briefly and made to turn and leave. ‘Here,’ Jerry said, ‘fancy a drink, do you?’ ‘What about the shop?’
‘It’s half-day closing. Come on, I’ll come back later and clear up properly.’
Jerry untied his apron and took a leather bomber-jacket from the hook behind the door to the back of the shop. They stepped out into the cool afternoon and walked down the High Street to the Hart Revived.
Jerry brought two glasses of white wine over to their table near the fire. ‘I want to hear what the latest is on this new killing,’ he said.
‘I told you, Jerry, I’m not involved. You heard they charged Geoffrey Parsons?’
‘No! When was that?’
‘Tuesday. It was in the papers this morning.’
Jerry frowned. ‘Parsons. I wouldn’t have thought he could kill a rabbit!’
‘Yes, I agree. You thought Beamish-Newell killed Alex Petrou, didn’t you?’
‘Did I?’ Jerry adjusted his glasses and looked coy. ‘Of course you did. So did I.’
‘Yes, well, we all make mistakes. Why would Parsons have done it?’
Kathy hesitated. ‘The suggestion is that Rose was pregnant and Petrou may have been the father.’
Jerry’s eyes widened and his mouth formed a shocked O. ‘The bitch!’
‘I wouldn’t describe her as that,’ Kathy said.
‘Not her, him! That bitch Petrou! I knew he was a slut, but really!’
Kathy nodded. ‘He certainly seems to have got around.’
‘So all that about Fiendish-Cruel coming round to see Errol was completely irrelevant, as it turned out.’ Jerry rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘I could have saved us all a lot of pain by keeping my trap shut.’
‘Maybe. Did you know that he told us Errol was supplying Petrou with ecstasy?’
Jerry flinched. ‘What are you up to, Kathy?’
�
�Nothing. I just wondered if our lot ever followed up on that with Errol.’
‘No, they didn’t.’ He shuddered. ‘God! That’s the last thing we need.’
‘And they haven’t been back to see you this time?’
Jerry shook his head.
‘Finish your drink,’ Kathy said, ‘and I’ll get you another.’
When she sat down again, Jerry was contemplating the flames flickering in the grate. ‘I really did the dirty on old Fiendish, when you come to think of it,’ he said.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, there was me thinking he was a murderer, that he was using Errol and getting him into trouble, when really it was Errol who’d been letting Fiendish down, playing around with Petrou, selling him stuff, all that. He didn’t need to do that, especially not to Fiendish-Cruel.’
‘As a good customer, do you mean?’
‘What? Oh, well, not only that. Fiendish had been good to Errol before. One of the reasons I was willing to make allowances for Errol was that he lost his mother last summer. It really upset him: they were ever so close. She was a funny old duck. Do you know that it was only the Christmas before last that she realized that we were gay? We’d been living together for almost twenty-five years, and she hadn’t the faintest idea! My Mum and Dad came down to have lunch with us on Christmas Day, ‘cause really my Mum’s a terrible cook, and Dad’s always saying I’m twice as good as she is. Anyway, we invited Errol’s old dear over as well for a real family occasion - she was a widow - and she and Mum were sitting together sipping their sherry in the living room while Errol and I were in the kitchen cooking, and my Dad was out in the garden smoking his pipe, and suddenly she said to Mum, as if it’d been on her mind quite a bit, “Evelyn, do you think our boys are quite, you know, normal?” and my Mum said, “No, of course not. They’re both queer as coots, you silly old bat.” ‘
Jerry broke into peals of laughter, Kathy joining him, until there were tears running down both their faces.
‘Anyway, she got cancer soon after, poor old thing. They tried all sorts, but in the end they couldn’t do anything for her. Errol was ever so upset. He told Fiendish-Cruel one time he was out at the clinic, and Fiendish was good with him. That’s how he got to know him well, really. Fiendish even went to see the old duck in hospital and afterwards when they sent her home. He gave her some of his organic medicines, but of course they didn’t do no good either.’
B&K02 - The Malcontenta Page 23
