“I’m usually investigating violent death. It’s hard to get too enthusiastic.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m fine, honestly.”
“Are you? Really?” The lightness disappeared from her. “I don’t want to lose you because you’re unhappy. It happens, you know. You’re sad at work, and then suddenly your home life doesn’t look so good either anymore, and so you start to look elsewhere for your happiness.”
Jejeune started to protest, but a Lindy under full steam was not one to halt to take on arguments. Especially not a Lindy with a little too much wine in the fuel tank already.
“You need your job, Dom. You need somewhere to focus your abilities, to use that, go on then, I’ll say it, that gift you have, that gift nobody can buy or learn, that separates the great from the merely very good, from the rest of us. You have it, Dom. I’ve seen it. You hear things others don’t; you see them in a different way. Why do you think the DCS is even considering this bird list idea of yours? Because it’s you. Anybody else would have been laughed out of the force. And knowing you, it’s probably going to turn out to be right. I’m not saying being a detective has to be all there is for you. A lot of people in this room no doubt have interests that they love far more than their jobs. But to have the kind of talents you have, and to let them all go to waste, just to watch birds … it’s wrong, Dom. Just wrong.”
Lindy backed off. She had said her piece and they both knew Domenic wasn’t going to offer any resistance. Not tonight.
“I heard Martin saying you have agreed to be interviewed for his program. Thank you. I know how much you dislike doing them.” She paused, tears starting to her eyes. The drink, thought Jejeune. And perhaps something more. “You’re a good man, Dom. A really good man. It’s just your rotten luck that you’re a good detective, too.”
Someone across the room called her and she was gone. It had been an odd way to put it. But good journalists sometimes had a way of capturing complex truths in a single phrase. And Lindy was a very good journalist indeed.
22
The orange glow was visible as soon as Jejeune’s Range Rover crested the rise on the outskirts of the village. It was impossible to tell from here the size or intensity of the blaze, or how far off it was, but the savage starkness of the flames against the surrounding blackness alarmed Jejeune. He put his foot down, plunging on through the dark country lanes, heading toward the false sunrise on the horizon.
As he slowed down to make the turn into the driveway, Tony Holland approached and tapped on the window. “Pity you had to come out in the middle of the night, sir. No bodies that we know of, but as it’s a person of interest, Sergeant Maik thought you’d want to know about this.” He waved his gloved hand toward the other end of the driveway, as if to emphasise the distance between himself and the messy end of the action. “If you had gotten here a bit sooner, you would have run into the DCS and Beverly Brennan. Both gone now. Not sure why they were here. Still, if it’s important, I imagine they’ll fill you in, eh, sir?”
He withdrew without waiting to see how Jejeune received his report and watched the tail lights bounce along the unpaved driveway toward the house.
From the forecourt, Archie Christian’s house showed no signs of damage, but all the noise, and the light, was coming from around back. Jejeune parked and walked around to the side. The judas gate swung crookedly, the lock having been crudely crowbarred. Jejeune stepped through into the rear courtyard, where he was greeted by scenes of controlled chaos. Shattered glass lay everywhere, and water-soaked furniture and possessions were piled in untidy heaps around the yard. Water dripped from the scorched metal skeleton of the greenhouse, and Jejeune could see pools where the runoff from the fire hoses had started to gather in the depressions in the ground. The far gates stood open, and a single fire engine was parked halfway inside. A number of cars were parked at odd angles around the courtyard, well away from the scene of destruction in front of the greenhouse.
The fire itself had been brought under control, but patches of grass and debris still smouldered and flared into occasional flames. In the flickering light, Jejeune thought he could make out words on the side of one of the buildings, but before he could read them properly, the guttering flames had died down again.
He saw Maik and Christian standing together near one of the halogen floodlights the fire department had set up. The conversation looked amiable enough from this distance, but Jejeune knew that both men were capable of making their point without waving their arms about. Christian was standing with his hands in his pockets, feet spread apart like a used car salesman. He was wearing a button down shirt with a tie loosely knotted just below the neck. He had on a pair of immaculate Italian silk trousers and highly polished patent leather shoes. Whatever he had been doing when the fire broke out, Archie Christian had been fully dressed at the time.
“I’m telling you, I can deal with this,” Christian was saying evenly as Jejeune approached the two men. “It’s just a couple of nutters at Earth Front, got it into their heads that I had something to do with Brae’s death, that’s all.”
“You saw them?” asked Maik. “These Earth Front members?”
Christian shook his head. “Didn’t see anything. First I heard was the glass breaking. By the time I got out here, they were gone. And then the fire kicked off and I had to get that dealt with. But it was Earth Front, all right. I told you, they’ve been sending me nasty notes. Besides, this is right up their alley, isn’t it? Bit of damage, a few naughty words on the wall, then run away and hide.”
“More than a bit of damage, though, Archie,” said Maik. “There’s nothing left of your sunroom. If you had been inside we might have had more to investigate than just criminal damage and arson.”
“Investigate? You’re having a laugh. You lot couldn’t find a dog’s tail if I showed you where the arse end was. Besides, whoever did this will be alibied all the way up to their you-know-wheres.” He shook his head slowly. “Help from the plod. Nah, I don’t think so.” He wandered off to examine some charred debris the firefighters had just brought out into the courtyard.
“The senior fire officer says definitely arson,” Maik said, turning to Jejeune. “They found a can in the driveway, an accelerant, probably petrol.”
They heard a shout and spun around to see a man sprinting away from the front of the greenhouse. There was a screeching of tortured metal as a large part of the structure’s frame broke away and crashed to the ground with a shattering of glass. A fire officer came around and moved everyone back toward the centre of courtyard. It was some moments before order was restored.
A young constable came over to Maik and passed him something. He had a big grin on his face. “Found it on the table in there, sir,” he said, nodding toward the charred structure. “Blimey, I only just got out before the front fell in.”
“The next time you’re in a burned-out building and you hear it creaking, young Hennessey, you get out right away. Never mind the heroics.”
He watched the young man slip away, no doubt with less praise ringing in his ears than he had anticipated. Maik turned the BlackBerry over in his hands, examining it as if it were a seashell. He rolled his thumb over the trackball and punched a couple of buttons.
“Here, leave that alone. Personal property that is.” Christian strode over hurriedly and snatched the device from Maik’s hand and stuffed it into his trousers pocket. “You ought to be careful. The last bloke who messed with my stuff has still got his hand in a cast.”
“Oh, I doubt that would happen to me,” said Maik pleasantly.
Christian was sobered by Maik’s tone. “Yeah, right, sorry. I’ve spent ages customizing the settings on there, that’s all. I don’t want a clumsy git like you restoring all the defaults again.” He sighed. “Look, it’s been a long night, right? The fire’s just about sorted. I’ll have a look at the damage in the morning. Nothing else we can do tonight, is there? Besides, I could use some kip.”
/> Christian walked off to survey what was left of his furniture. Jejeune, who had watched the conversation between the two men in silence, came up beside Maik again. His hands were tucked in his pockets. But his eyes were still on active duty.
“Who is that man, and what has he done with Archie Christian?” asked Jejeune.
“My thoughts exactly. You saw the place he had put together for himself in that greenhouse. He had put his heart and soul into it. The Archie Christian I know should have been talking about performing surgical procedures on somebody over this. Instead he sounds like an advert for the Samaritans. He might be planning to go after these people himself, I suppose, but I’ve never known Archie to soft pedal anything before. Something doesn’t feel right here.”
“Your restraint, admirable as it was, by the way, suggests that the BlackBerry was helpful?”
“Call log’s been wiped out, obviously, but not his address book. Now, just having somebody’s number in your BlackBerry might not be enough to get a warrant, but where Archie Christian is concerned, it’s all the proof I need.”
Jejeune looked thoughtful. “We still haven’t been able to confirm the source of the vet’s stolen drugs, I take it.”
“We’ve asked at all the racecourse infirmaries and veterinary centres as far out as Great Yarmouth and Newmarket. Folksham was among the first we checked. They said there was no record of anything missing, but if Christian is involved, that wouldn’t be a surprise. When it comes to helping himself to other people’s property, Archie is no mug. This will be more than just a case of somebody pinching some packages off the shelf. The shipping manifests will have been altered long before the drugs got to the infirmary in the first place. I’ll get on to the vets in the Folksham area to find out which labs supply their drugs. There’ll be a paper trail somewhere. It will lead right back to Archie, sooner or later.”
The two men watched Christian for a moment as he picked through the debris, careful as ever not to dirty his clothes. Maik shook his head again.
“Archie Christian, the Voice of Reason. Not on your life. You know he didn’t even call this in himself? A couple driving by saw the flames from the road and got on their mobile right away. But if they could see it from the road, Christian must have been aware of the fire by then.” He snapped out of his reverie. “The DCS was looking for you, by the way. I imagine she’ll want a word in the morning. She’s taking this Earth Front connection at face value. She’s worried that they might ramp it up even further, now that they have gone this far.”
“And you?”
“It could be them. I hate to agree with Archie, but it does have their mark, based on their activities elsewhere in the country. The trouble is, with Archie you can never be sure what else he’s been into. This could be nothing to do with the Brae case at all.”
Jejeune nodded thoughtfully. Earth Front had started off as just a bunch of overly zealous environmentalists, committed to aggressive anti-social acts to raise awareness for their cause. But there was enough of an over-the-top radical element to make the organization an attractive target for the professional anarchists, and in the past couple of years, things had become a lot more serious. If they were starting to get a foothold in this area, Jejeune could see why the DCS might be concerned.
“The connection between Christian and Brae is clear, though, just the same,” said Jejeune, “and if Earth Front really believes Christian was involved in the murder, targeting him makes sense. Until something comes along to suggest otherwise, I suppose we need to look into where the evidence is leading us. Have Constable Salter take a poke around Earth Front’s background in the morning. By the way, Holland said Beverly Brennan was here tonight. Any idea why?”
“Eco-terrorism is bad for business. Whether we like it or not, Christian has got some clout with the local business community. As far as they’re concerned, he’s a legitimate businessman. And Brennan won’t be too happy with something like this going down on her patch when she’s out there lobbying for investment.”
Maik watched the firefighters rolling in one of the main hoses, as a prelude to winding down their activities. “Looks like things are just about under control here, if you wanted to get off home. I’ll have the report on your desk first thing. In fact, I may as well head on in to the station now. I’m halfway there already.”
Jejeune checked his watch. An hour or so later and he might have considered staying up, too. He could have picked up the dawn chorus on the way in to work; that magical hour when the birds were just becoming active and starting to feed. But he was tired, and the prospect of a couple more hours of sleep followed by breakfast with Lindy sounded like an altogether better prospect just now.
He nodded at Maik. “I’ll leave you to finish up here. But before you go, please make sure you tell Mr. Christian we are going to be actively investigating Earth Front. That means a police presence around their headquarters for the next few days. And nights. The last thing we need is for him to show up with a van full of his friends with balaclavas and baseball bats, meting out their own particular brand of justice.”
“I’ll make sure he gets the message,” said Maik, his tone leaving Jejeune in no doubt that he would.
Maik moved off to direct a couple of constables sifting through the charred rubble. Jejeune took a final look around the courtyard before walking back to his car. In a case where nobody seemed to have any answers, at least somebody had made up their mind who was to blame for Cameron Brae’s death. He just wondered whether Earth Front’s conclusions were based on emotion, or on some evidence he had yet to uncover for himself.
23
By the time Jejeune reached the front desk, he could already sense the tension. The desk sergeant, a wizened old dinosaur with wiry grey hair and deeply lined face, had still not fully warmed to Jejeune: likely as much a reaction against the new order that the inspector represented as anything else. Nevertheless, despite his misgivings, the sergeant raised an eyebrow at Jejeune as he passed and nodded his head in the direction of DCS Shepherd’s office. “Brennan,” he mouthed. After all, when it came right down to it, Jejeune was still one of them. Wasn’t he?
Jejeune was just emerging from his office with a manila folder under his arm when DCS Shepherd appeared in the doorway of her own office at the far end of the corridor.
“Ah, Domenic, a minute, please.” She held the door open until he arrived. “Inspector Jejeune, I believe you have already met the Right Honourable Beverly Brennan, MP.”
Ushering Domenic into the room before her, she closed the door and retired to a chair in the rear corner.
Brennan was already settled behind the DCS’s desk when Jejeune walked in, sitting erectly in the high backed chair. She had her gloves off, nestled neatly beside her handbag on the side table. Her hands were loosely clasped before her, resting on the desk, as if ready to grasp any information Jejeune might choose to toss her way. Her blond hair was gathered up behind her neck, neat and manageable.
Brennan took off her glasses, setting them on the desk beside her. This was to be her meeting, regardless of the setting. Jejeune knew Beverly Brennan had made a career of confronting her adversaries on their own turf. Was he an adversary? She greeted him with a smile that did not quite reach her blue-grey eyes.
Jejeune took the seat opposite Brennan, putting his back toward the DCS. If the arrangement struck him as vaguely odd, a glance back toward Shepherd showed that she held no such misgivings. She was apparently quite comfortable to take on an observer’s role. But to observe what, exactly?
“Such a terrible business at Mr. Christian’s last night,” said Brennan without preamble. “As you may know, I paid a visit there myself, to see first-hand what these people are capable of. I am not here in any official capacity, you understand, but I am obviously concerned for the well-being of the local business community. Incidents like last night … well, clearly … Can I ask where your inquiries stand at the moment, Inspector?”
“We have a constable out at
Earth Front’s offices today, taking statements. We don’t hold out much hope of finding the actual culprits there, but if there are some discrepancies in the statements.…”
Jejeune waved an airy hand. If it was a gesture designed to annoy the politician with its seeming indifference, it was a well-chosen one.
The glance at Shepherd was brief, but significant. “I know the DCS would like, indeed we would all like, swift action on this matter. As you know, this is not the first threat toward a member of our community. Now Peter Largemount’s situation may or may not be connected, that is for you to determine. But coupled with this dreadful affair with Cameron Brae, people are beginning to wonder if they are even safe to walk the streets of Saltmarsh anymore.”
Jejeune cast another quick look back toward the DCS, but she was looking at her hands and did not make eye contact with her inspector. For her to be willing to sit back and let someone else run this meeting, in her office, seated behind her desk, suggested one of only two possibilities. Either Beverly Brennan had considerably more juice in this community than Jejeune had given her credit for, or the DCS was complicit in this set-up. Jejeune’s natural instincts were toward caution when he didn’t fully understand a situation, and it seemed better to let Brennan talk until she told him what was really going on, instead of offering any kind of defence that might be used against him later. He smiled indulgently, as if to suggest the politician couldn’t really appreciate the intricacies of police procedure.
“The greater concern here, of course, is the overall climate of intimidation and fear. These people cannot be allowed to go around terrorizing members of our business community. It is up to you to restore some sense of calm and reassurance. Instead, you seem intent on following up lines of inquiry that are, quite frankly, puzzling, to say the least.”
A Siege of Bitterns Page 15
