Chilling Out

by Andrew Puckett

'It was Dr Goring who employed me here, to take over Grouping after Pete Coleton became lab manager.'

  He'd got on well with him, then? – Reasonably well, yes.

  Had he still been on good terms with him when he'd come down this time? – They'd said hello, but that was about all.

  Had he approved of Goring's reorganisation of the service? – Of course not, it was going to cost him his job.

  Then Tom had moved on to Friday evening…

  He said now, 'D'you like Jessie?'

  Paul hesitated. 'Not much.'

  'Why not?'

  'She wore her stripes too heavily. She was too young for the job and it went to her head.' The past tense, Tom noted. 'It needs someone with more experience.'

  'Someone like you, perhaps?'

  Paul's eyes flicked up. 'I'd make a better job of it than her,' he said defiantly.

  'In what way?'

  'I know more than she did and I'd be a better manager. She had favourites, she set people against each other.'

  'Divide and rule, perhaps?'

  'Call it what you like – I happen to believe that you get the best out of people by treating them fairly.'

  He was tacky, he was shifty and his pride was inordinate, Tom thought, paraphrasing Kipling. 'D'you think she could have killed Dr Goring?'

  Paul looked away, apparently giving the matter serious thought. 'She might have,' he said at last, 'after he sacked her. She's got an evil temper.'

  'She says that someone photocopied all her notes and gave them to Dr Goring before the TV interview – that was you, wasn't it?'

  'She would say something like that, wouldn't she?' He didn't seem to have noticed the accusation.

  'You didn't answer me. It was you, wasn't it?'

  'It wasn't any of us – she imagined it because he got the better of her.'

  'But Dr Goring admitted to Dr Medlar that someone had kept him informed.'

  'Did he?' For a moment, Paul looked genuinely surprised. But about what? Tom wondered. The fact that Goring'd had a spy, or the fact he'd admitted it?

  'Well, it wasn't me,' he said.

  'Did you see the interview?'

  He nodded. 'Yes.'

  'So what do you think about the accusation she made at the end of it?'

  'Palpable bullshit. She did it in desperation because she'd lost the argument.'

  'How can you possibly know that?'

  'I've got eyes and ears,' he said. 'It was obvious Goring knew what he was talking about. What she said was a lie and she deserved to be sacked for it.'

  'Did you know that the door handle of the freezing-room was broken?'

  He blinked at the change of direction. 'Er – not at the time, no.'

  'But you were at the meeting Jessie called, weren't you? When Steve Tanner came in to tell Dominic about it?'

  'I left early.'

  'Didn't you see the notice on the door?'

  'Not then, no.'

  'When?'

  'Later. Someone told me about it.'

  'When did they tell you?'

  'I can't remember. Sometime Friday, I think.'

  Tom switched the questioning back to his relationship with Goring, hoping to show it had more substance than he'd previously admitted, but Paul retreated behind a wall of monosyllables and Tom, realising he wasn't getting anywhere, let him go.

  Was he really as obtuse as he seemed, Tom wondered as he washed his hands in the gents, or was it deliberate? Did he really think he could run the place better than Jessie? Tom knew from his own past experience, as well as from Holly, what a poisoned chalice it was.

  As he went back up the corridor, a couple of girls glanced at him curiously and he heard them giggling after they'd passed him. He checked his fly as soon as he was back in the office, but nothing was adrift, nor had he dribbled, so he phoned Dominic and asked for Ashley to be sent along.

  While he was waiting, he picked up the phone again and dialled the number Personnel had given him for Craig. After several rings, it was answered by a woman with a strong Devonian accent.

  'Warm Welcome Farm.'

  So someone there had a sense of humour, Tom thought as he explained that he wanted to come and talk to Craig. There was a tap on the door and a fresh-faced man of about thirty with a humorous face put his head round. Tom beckoned him in and pointed to the seat.

  "Es, that's all right,' the woman on the phone said, and then told him how to find the farm. 'Y' can't miss it,' she added, which should have warned him.

  He glanced at his watch as he put the phone down – getting on for five, so this would have to be the last interview today.

  'Mr Jones, I presume?' the fresh-faced man said.

  'And you're Mr Miles?'

  'So you're going to beard Craig in his lair? Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing, but rather you than me.'

  'Is he really that bad?'

  'Depends on your point of view, I suppose.' He made a face. 'Jessie didn't think so.'

  'Jealous?'

  'Me? I'm a respectable married man.'

  Tom said, 'And as such, do you believe in this affair of hers with Verity?'

  Ashley hesitated, obviously taken by surprise. 'I really can't say.'

  'So you don't believe in it?'

  'As I said, I can't comment on it.'

  Tom realised he wasn't going to get any further. 'How long have you been here?'

  About four years, Ashley told him. No, he hadn't known Goring previously and he had no idea whether there was any truth in Jessie's allegation. He spoke easily, openly, and Tom found himself liking him.

  'Where did you come from?' he asked him. 'Before you came here.'

  'London.'

  'I thought so. D'you miss it?'

  'Yeah – about as much as I do Craig, come to think of it.'

  Yes, he'd known about the faulty freezer door, it had been reported at the meeting Jessie had called. Who was there? He reeled off the same list as Jessie and Maria. No, none of them had left early so far as he could remember.

  He became thoughtful when Tom told him about Jessie's theory of the rotten apple. 'You know, I thought when I watched the interview that he had everything off remarkably pat. It seemed too good – or bad, rather – to be true, so she could be right.'

  'So, who?'

  He took a breath. 'There are one or two here who don't like her, but as to whether they'd go that far… I don't know.'

  'But you do think that someone did?'

  'I said she could be right, which isn't the same thing, is it? And I've no idea.'

  'She was right, as it happens,' Tom said, and explained how he knew.

  'Didn't Dr Goring say who it was?' Ashley asked after a pause.

  'Apparently not.'

  Ashley's expression didn't change. 'Well, I still don't have any idea who it was.'

  'Did you like Jessie?'

  He nodded, his frank blue eyes meeting Tom's. 'Yes, I did. Still do.'

  'D'you think she could have killed Dr Goring?'

  He gave a half-laugh. 'That's certainly putting it on the line.' He paused. 'I really don't think so.'

  'Why not?'

  'Because… she just wouldn't. She isn't that nasty.'

  'So, who?'

  'Pass,' he said deliberately.

  'That Friday night, what time did you meet Dominic?'

  'About eight.' He didn't have to ask which Friday night.

  'About?'

  'It was just before or just after… just after, I think.'

  'What time did you leave home?'

  Ashley regarded him with a lazy smile. 'About seven thirty, as I'm sure you already know. And yes, my only witness is my wife, and yes, I suppose I would have had just about enough time to dash in here, slam poor old Goring into the freezer and still meet Dom.'

  'Did you?'

  'Don't be stupid.'

  So there was steel beneath all the good cheer… 'Why is it stupid?'

  Ashley paused before answering, his eyes meeting Tom's again.
'Because I've got no motive and anyway – ' another smile – 'I'm not that nasty either.'

  Tom thought this as good a place to stop as any, so he thanked him and told him he could go. At the door, he turned.

  'Is it true Verity chucked a dildo at you?'

  'Where d'you hear that?'

  'It's doing the rounds. One story has you catching it in your teeth and doing a belly dance.'

  Tom smiled. 'So that explains it.'

  'Explains what?'

  "The funny looks I've been getting.'

  'So she did do it…'

  'She dropped it on the desk in front of me hoping to shock me, so I asked her if I could keep it.'

  Ashley laughed. 'Hoping to shock her back, I suppose – no chance! Where is it now?'

  'In the bin.'

  Ashley laughed again and left.

  Chapter Seventeen

  'Come on in, Ash, take the weight off your feet.'

  Ashley gently closed the door and did as he was bid, noting a trifle sourly how snug was the fit of Jessie's mantle on Dominic's shoulders.

  'I'm on call tonight,' he said. 'I need the bleep.'

  'Sure.' Dominic opened a drawer and handed it to him. 'Dickhead finished with you, has he?'

  'He has.'

  'How'd it go?'

  'Well, Verity's right about one thing, he's a cool sod. Asked me outright if I'd killed Goring.'

  'What did you say?'

  'Told him not to be stupid.' He paused. 'Did he ask you that?'

  'Not in so many words, no. He wanted chapter and verse on exactly what I was doing before I met you, though.'

  'What's his game, Dom? We've already been through all that with the police.' He glanced over Dominic's shoulder. 'Talk of the devil…'

  Dominic glanced round in time to see a panda car passing the window, then turned back to Ashley. 'I think he's telling the truth – about one thing, anyway. Mad Maggie's shitting herself at the possibility that Goring was closing Tamar in order to give his son-in-law a leg-up.'

  'Was he, d'you think?'

  Dominic shrugged. 'I don't know and I don't really care any more.'

  Ashley studied him closely. 'Seems pretty incredible, though. What d'you think about the other business, that Goring had a spy here?'

  'I would have said it was a load of bollocks, a symptom of the stress Jessie was under, but Dickhead says that Goring confirmed it to the boss.'

  'Any ideas?'

  A tap on the door prevented Dominic from answering.

  'Evenin' all.' It was Verity, in cockney mode. 'Ain't cha got no 'omes to go to, then?'

  'We were talking about Dickhead,' Dominic said.

  She smiled faintly. 'Put you through the mill, did he?' she said to Ashley.

  'Sort of.' He gave her the gist of the interview.

  'Sounds as though you got off lightly.' She looked from one to the other of them. 'Has he seen all of us now?'

  'All except Adrian,' Dominic replied. 'Said he'd see him first thing tomorrow.'

  'He won't get much out of him,' Verity said.

  'So then it'll be back to the beginning and third degrees all round,' Ashley said morosely.

  'Let me put it this way,' said Verity, 'I shan't be responsible for my actions if he does…'

  Dominic was looking past her to the open door, where Arthur the orderly was standing with a uniformed policeman. 'Can I help you?' he said.

  'I'm looking for Miss Verity Blane,' the policeman said.

  'That's me,' Verity told him. 'and it's Ms.'

  'Ah. Well, I'd be grateful if you'd accompany me to the station to help with our enquiries, Ms Blane.'

  'Surely,' she said easily.

  'Verity, wait a minute.' Dominic got up and went to the door. 'D'you need any help, can I phone anyone for you…?'

  'It's all right, it's all been arranged,' she said to no one in particular.

  He watched them go, then slowly came back in and sat down. Ashley got up and gently pushed the door shut. 'What the hell are we supposed to make of that?'

  'I don't know,' Dominic said slowly.

  Tom, meanwhile, was lost. The instructions he'd been given were easy enough to follow on the main road, but then he'd turned off, and once past the village of Catspaw, where he was supposed to find the farm signposted on the right, he'd instead dropped into a valley and come to a ford surrounded by tall trees. The sign said 'Deep Ford', and by the look of the dark water swirling past his headlamps, it wasn't kidding. There was no room to turn round, and the packhorse bridge beside it was too narrow even for the Cooper.

  He pulled out the map and trained the light on it, but found himself glancing up again at the surrounding trees. For all his city breeding, Tom wasn't normally bothered by the countryside, but there was something about the way the gibbous moon filtered through the network of bare branches above…

  He told himself not to be a fool, then locked all the doors and tried to concentrate on the map. Yes, he'd taken the wrong bloody turning after Catspaw. He put the map down, slewed himself round in the seat and started reversing back, looking for a place to turn. His neck had a crick before he found one, a gateway silhouetted by the moon. He turned into it, felt the back wheels sinking into mud… Sod it! He spun the steering wheel, found first and gingerly let in the clutch… and the front wheels span for sickening moments before gripping and pulling the little car away. Five minutes later he was in Catspaw, and five minutes after that, he'd found the track to the farm.

  He'd seriously considered giving up after leaving the ford, but supposed that since he'd told them he was coming, he ought to carry on… Now, as the Cooper grounded in a rut for the second time, he wished he hadn't. He gritted his teeth, lurched on and a few minutes later, beneath another clump of trees, he reached the farm.

  He parked beside what he thought must be the farmhouse and climbed out. Dim light squeezed past a drawn curtain. He found the door. There was no bell, so he brought down the ancient knocker. A few moments later, the door creaked open to reveal a woman whose face was as shapeless as her clothes.

  "Es, m'dear?'

  'Mrs Scratchley? I've come to see Craig. I spoke to you on the phone.'

  'So 'e did. 'E's down in the cowshed, milkin'.' Her accent was as ripe as the smells escaping past her. 'Jus' past the 'ouse, on yer right. Can't miss it.'

  'Thanks.'

  The door crunched shut behind him as he gloomily followed instructions.

  It wasn't quite so bad as he'd thought. He came round the side of the house and saw a light above a doorway across the farmyard. He could hear the hum of an electric motor inside.

  He picked his way across and pushed the door open. The hum became louder and a long line of cows gently steamed in the dim light -

  'Aye?'

  He jumped as a sinewy man in overalls emerged from between two of them.

  'I'm looking for Craig Scratchley.'

  'Oh aye… Craig…' he bellowed, and another figure appeared.

  'My name's Jones – ' Tom began.

  'I know,' Craig cut him off. 'Down here.'

  He led Tom along the row of dangling tails to a small room with a wooden table and broken-backed chair.

  Does the stuff I put in my coffee really come from a place like this? Tom wondered as Craig said:

  'So what d'you wanna know, then?'

  'Only to confirm what Jessie Pengellis told me this morning,' Tom said, keen to get the visit over.

  'Depends on what she told you, dunnit?' He was putting on the yokel aggro for Tom's benefit, although his accent wasn't naturally as strong as his parents'.

  'That on Friday the seventh, you had – er – a disagreement with her, she told you to pack and leave her house, and then left you to do that.'

  'Well, that's the truth,' he said, then added deliberately, 'The truth as far as it goes, like.'

  Tom looked up at him. 'What d'you mean, as far as it goes?'

  'I mean jus' that, as far as it goes.'

  'Is there any m
ore?'

  Craig shrugged. 'Might be. Depends, dunnit?'

  'Depends on what?'

  'On what you think it's worth.'

  Tom said, 'How about it's worth me not telling the police that you've been messing them about?'

  'Then I dunno what you're talkin' about, do I, mister.'

  Tom sighed as he pulled out his wallet and extracted a ten pound note.

  Craig peered at it. 'Godda be worth more'n a tenner.'

  'Why don't you try me and we'll see, eh?' Tom said, wondering what could have possessed Jessie to have allowed him into her house, let alone her bed. Ah, the ways of a man with a maid…

  Craig took the note. 'Well, I did what she said and left after a couple of hours. After I got back here, I remembered somethin' I forgot, so I went back again… and what d'you think I saw?'

  'Well, what?'

  'Jessie,' he said. 'I saw Jessie.'

  'What time was this?' Tom asked after a pause.

  "Bout nine. Half-past, maybe.'

  'What was she doing?'

  Craig shrugged. 'She got out of her car an' went inside.'

  'Then what?'

  'Then nothin'. I weren't goin' in there with her there, was I?'

  Not after you'd done the place over, no. 'So why didn't you tell the police this?'

  He shrugged again. 'Didn' ask me, did they?'

  Tom could think of a better reason. 'Does Jessie know you saw her?'

  'Course not.'

  Bloody liar… He was about to leave it there when he thought of something else. 'The last weekend you worked at the centre, the Sunday, Maria was called in, wasn't she?'

  Craig looked meaningfully back at him and Tom reluctantly found another note.

  'That’s the lot,' he said. 'OK?'

  'OK,' Craig said, taking it. 'Yeah, Maria was called in Sunday, for an urgent cross match.'

  'How long was she there?'

  Well, she'd come in about four, left about seven. Yes, he supposed it was a long time for a cross match, but she'd stayed behind tidying up for a bit.

  'Was she in her lab the whole time?'

  He shook his head. 'No…' The ward had rung at about half-five asking where the blood was, he'd gone looking for her but couldn't find her at first, then he'd found her in the drivers' room looking through the key box. No, he didn't know why. She'd issued the blood at about six and left at just before seven.

  'And between six and seven she was tidying up?'