A Life for a Life (20 page)

‘So what did Parc-Reed do about it?’

‘I don’t know exactly, but they told me not to worry about it… they said it was being taken care of…’

‘How? How was it being taken care of?’

‘I’m not sure… pressure on Weisman from our parent company, I believe, pressure on the major journals not to accept his paper.’

‘And then when I produced evidence of these side-effects myself, you rubbished them and had me sent away for three months?’

‘That was Connie and Ian… Yes, all right.’

‘Good, Leo.’ Fraser brought out the cassette recorder, switched it on and tested it. ‘Now, repeat all that for the tape, please.’ He held out the microphone.

Leo’s eyes went still as his mind worked… ‘All right.’ he said.

‘Good,’ Fraser said again when he’d finished. ‘Next question: how many Parc-Reed shares do you own?’

‘Two thousand.’

‘Wrong answer, Leo. How many shares do you, or
have
you owned?’

Leo looked into his eyes, said, ‘I’ve never owned more than two thousand… I swear that’s the truth.’

Fraser picked up the kettle. ‘Sure about that?’

‘It’s the truth!’ Leo’s lips clamped shut and he stared mulishly back at him…

He doesn’t think I will, he’s calling my bluff…

Do it, gotta do it…

He poured a dollop over his right knee—

Leo screamed and bucked backwards, banging his head on the work surface. Fraser grabbed him, pulled him upright and poured some cold water over his knee.

‘You
bastard
, you
bastard
…’ Leo whimpered.

He’s right… I’m a doctor… I’m supposed to relieve pain, not cause it…

Struggling to keep his voice level, he said, ‘How many Parc-Reed shares do you or have you owned?’

‘Thirty thousand… I sold them a week ago.’

‘Good. How about Ian Saunders?’

‘Thirty thousand.’

‘Has he sold them too?’

‘Yes.’

‘How about Connie?’

‘She… she never owned any.’

‘Wrong answer, Leo…’ Fraser reached for the kettle again.

‘No, no – I swear it, I offered her some, but she refused.’

‘So why was she pushing Alkovin?’

‘She thought she could make her name from a paper on it, that’s all she was interested in, I swear it.’

Fraser stared at him, his mind whirring…
Could be true… might explain why she was going to come clean, not so much to lose as the others, why they had to kill her…

‘All right. How did you and Ian manage to buy and sell these shares without your names appearing on the public register?’

Leo hesitated, and Fraser could understand why. Up until now, everything he’d admitted was deniable, or could be blamed on to Connie and Ian.

‘Through a nominee account,’ he said at last.

‘Who was the broker?’

‘I don’t know, it was arranged by the company – No-oo!’

Fraser had snatched up the kettle again and held it hovering above his legs… ‘The name,’ he said between his teeth.

‘B-Brent Holman.’

‘Where are they based?’

‘Birmingham.’

‘Address?’

Leo gave it and then repeated everything into the tape.

‘That’s good, Leo,’ Fraser said encouragingly. ‘We’re nearly there now. Just one more question to go – why did you kill Connie?’

Leo closed his eyes, then opened them again. ‘Fraser, why are you doing this to me?’

‘Why? You
know
why – because I’m banged up in prison while my fiancée’s dying… So why did you kill Connie, Leo?’

Leo said slowly, ‘You know that I didn’t kill her.’

‘Are you saying it was Ian?’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘Wrong answer, Leo.’ Fraser picked up the kettle again.

‘All right, all
right
,’ Leo screeched. ‘I killed her… Are you happy now? I killed her, I killed her…’

Fraser put the kettle down and picked up the tape, but before he could say anything, a voice from the doorway said, ‘I think that’s enough now.’

He swivelled round to see Tom Jones pointing a pistol at him.

23

Tom had gone back to Avon to interview the managing director of Parc-Reed, who’d been away until now. He hadn’t expected much from him and didn’t get it, just professional astonishment that anyone could doubt the company’s ethical policies. Then he’d called on Agnes to see whether she’d done any better than him in tracing the shares.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ she said, pacing her office. ‘We know that they own, or at least,
have
owned them. Somewhere, there must be a record of them… some way of finding it…’

‘The Stock Exchange have told me that there isn’t,’ said Tom, ‘short of approaching every single broker in the land.’

‘And even then we wouldn’t know whether they were telling the truth. We’d have to hypnotise them all.’

‘Might be simpler to hypnotise Farleigh or Saunders,’ said Tom.

‘If only…’ said Agnes.

It was then that her phone had rung and she’d been told about Fraser’s escape.

‘How the hell did he manage that?’ said Tom when she passed on the news.

‘They’re still not quite sure – apparently, he jumped off the top of the ship and stole a motor boat.’

Tom shook his head in reluctant admiration.

‘They made me promise to tell them if he contacts me,’ she added. Then she said, ‘I think I’d better go and tell Frances… I don’t trust the police and I don’t want her finding out any other way.’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘Sure.’

They went back to her house first where her husband, who’d had the afternoon off fishing, had baked some of the trout he’d caught. Then they went to the hospital.

‘Isn’t that her mother?’ Tom said as they walked to the main entrance.

‘So it is,’ Agnes said, and raised her hand.

She thought a wave was sufficient greeting and felt mildly irritated when Tom insisted on going over to speak to her.

‘Hello, Mrs Templeton.’

‘Oh… hello.’

Never could Tom remember having received so unenthusiastic a greeting. ‘Have you been to see Frances?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I’m just about to leave.’

‘That’s where we’re going. How is she?’

‘Rather tired, actually… in fact, I think the sooner you go and see her the better… so that she can get some rest.’

It was at this moment that her eyes flicked over his shoulder. She quickly dragged them back again, but Tom had noticed and glanced round himself in time to see a man change direction…

He looked back at Mary. ‘I expect you’re right,’ he said. ‘We’ll go on up now.’

They said goodbye and walked over to the entrance.

Agnes said, ‘She’s got a point, you know, perhaps we should leave it for now.’

As soon as they were inside, Tom said, ‘She’s waiting for Fraser.’

‘
What
?’

‘I saw him a moment ago, he cleared off as soon as he saw us.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘He’s shaved off his beard, but it
has
to be him. You go up and see Frances, I’m going to follow them.’

‘But shouldn’t we try—’

‘He’s seen Frances and I want to know where he’s going next.’

‘But what about the police?’

‘Not yet. Give me your mobile number…’

He took it down, then waited out of sight just inside the entrance. One or two people looked at him rather strangely as they came in, but then he saw what he was looking for – the man who’d changed direction…

It was him all right. He walked quickly over to Mary’s car, nervously looking round, then she opened the door for him and they sped off.

Tom sprinted over to the Cooper, which fortunately wasn’t parked too far away, charged out past the No Exit sign, narrowly missing an incoming car, and on to the approach road. There was a Fiesta doing about twenty-five in front of him – he indicated, roared past it and reached the junction just in time to see Mary’s car disappear into the distance on the right. He caught up, hung back while Mary was dropped at the taxi rank, then followed Fraser to Leo’s house.

He stopped some distance away, watched as Fraser went up to the door and disappeared inside, then released his gun from under the dash and ran up to the house. Listened at the door – nothing… Tried peering through the letter box, saw the lighted hall and overturned table, thought he heard voices…

Then he’d taken the keys he always carried from his pocket, selected one and inserted it…

The third key he’d tried had turned. He’d eased the door open, slipped through and silently shut it behind him. Taken out his gun and crept up the hall…

*

Fraser looked up and said to him now, ‘You recognised me, then?’

‘Yes.’

Fraser nodded to himself as though he’d known this all along. ‘You’ve heard everything here?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Then please –
let me finish it
…’

‘
No…!
’A strangled cry from Leo.

Tom shook his head. ‘He didn’t do it.’

‘Of course he feckin’ did it,’ spat Fraser.

‘He didn’t, and forcing him to say he did will only devalue what you’ve already found—’

‘It wasn’t any of it true,’ Leo said urgently. ‘I only said it because of what he was doing to me—’

‘I’d shut up if I were you,’ Tom said conversationally, ‘Or I might just block my ears and go for a smoke in your living-room.’ He turned to Fraser. ‘Now we’ve got the name of the broker, we’ll be able to trace the shares and—’

‘If he didn’t kill her, then he knows who did.’ Fraser spoke quietly but intensely. ‘You’ve seen for yourself what he’s like, if we don’t get the truth out of him now, we never will.’

Leo desperately tried to hold Tom’s gaze. ‘I swear I don’t know who killed her.’

‘You swore you’d never owned those shares,’ Fraser said between his teeth. ‘You knew Connie was wavering and that’s why you went to her house – to shut her up one way or another. You killed her, drove away and then came back for some reason and found me there. It
has
to be you.’

‘You know, he does have a point there,’ Tom said to Leo. ‘And all those shares do give you a powerful motive.’

Sweat had begun running down Leo’s face, he noticed. Strange – he’d heard of it happening, but never actually seen it before.

Leo gathered himself together and tried to speak rationally: ‘Yes, I did know she was wavering, she’d told Ian and he asked me to go round and try to persuade her to hang on, but
I did not kill her
. I found
you
there with her, Fraser – you go on about my motive, but yours is a damn sight stronger.’

Fraser thrust his face forward into Leo’s. ‘Why did you tell Garrett I was still holding the stick when I wasn’t?’ he demanded.

Leo closed his eyes as though to shut out Fraser’s fury. ‘I honestly can’t remember whether you were holding it or not.’ He opened them again. ‘I knew you’d done it, so it didn’t seem to matter.’ He sighed. ‘And once I’d said it, Garrett wouldn’t let it go.’ He looked round at Tom. ‘Please let me out of here… I agree to all the rest, but I didn’t kill her.’

‘All right,’ said Tom, ‘I believe you didn’t kill Dr Flint. But what about Dr Somersby?’

‘What about him?’

‘Don’t be funny with me, you’re not in the position. Someone killed Somersby and you had the best motive and opportunity for it.’

‘I was in London when he was killed, for God’s sake. The police did their best to pin it on me and couldn’t…’

Fraser had got up from the chair and moved a little to one side when Tom started questioning Leo. Now, without warning, he kicked the gun out of Tom’s hand.

Tom was caught off balance and fell back. Fraser slogged at his face but Tom saw it coming and twisted his head so that it only glanced, then he jabbed at Fraser’s face with his left, and as Fraser raised his hands to defend it, punched him once, hard in the belly with his right… and Fraser collapsed on to the floor.

Tom retrieved his gun and knelt beside him. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘But it really would go better for you if you gave yourself up.’

Leo said, ‘What about me?’

Tom pulled Fraser’s hands behind his back and snapped on plastic handcuffs, just in case, then went over to Leo and sat down.

‘What about you indeed,’ he said, pulling out his notebook. ‘I think we’ll have the name and address of that broker again before anything else.’

Fie took down the details, then, ignoring Leo’s pleas, went over to the phone. He checked the number with Directory Enquiries, rang it and listened to the recorded message before putting the phone down again.

‘Well, they certainly exist,’ he said to Leo. He called Agnes on her mobile, told her he needed her help and suggested she find a taxi. Then he released Leo, who, after getting the circulation back in his hands, started complaining about his burnt knee.

Fraser, who’d recovered somewhat, suggested something in the medicine cabinet that might help. He looked thoughtfully at Tom.

‘Mr Jones, I’ll come quietly, but can I ask for something in return?’

‘You’re in no position to bargain,’ Tom told him. ‘But you can ask.’

‘D’you still think I killed Connie Flint?’

‘No, I don’t. But I don’t think Farleigh here did either.’

‘Then, who?’

‘I don’t know – yet.’

Fraser hesitated, then said, ‘If I give myself up, can I do it at the hospital?’

‘You want to see Frances again?’

‘I want to marry her.’

Tom’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I don’t know about
that
…’

‘If you get the hospital chaplain to do it, it’d take less than a minute.’

It was Tom’s turn to look thoughtful. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.

Agnes arrived. Tom told her what had happened and got Leo to repeat his admissions in front of her (a casual remark about putting the kettle on again may have helped) then they tried to work out the best approach to the police.

‘It simply wouldn’t be possible for them to be married tonight, even if Garrett agreed,’ Agnes said. ‘For any quick marriage, church or civil, there has to be a special dispensation… We could probably get that tomorrow, though…’ she added thoughtfully.

She phoned Garrett on her mobile and put Fraser’s proposition to him. Garrett flatly refused, but when Agnes pointed out to him how bad he’d look in the press, how bad she could
make
him look, he relented and gave his word.

They took Fraser and Leo to the police station where Fraser gave himself up.

Somewhat to Tom’s surprise, Garrett kept his word. Fraser was held overnight at the station and the arrangements were made in the morning. He was then taken to the hospital, where Mary was waiting (Tom had managed to keep her part in Fraser’s escape quiet), and the chaplain (Frances had decided she wanted him to do it) performed the ceremony. Tom and Agnes also attended.

It took longer than the minute Fraser had thought, although not much, then he was allowed to kiss Frances before being led away. The bride glowed.

*

Leo, realising that Brent Holman wouldn’t hesitate to hang him out in the breeze to save their own reputation, didn’t try to deny buying and selling the Parc-Reed shares. Ian admitted it too (Brent Holman’s name in his address book made it hard for him to dispute) but both denied suppressing the truth about Alkovin in order to help the price up. They’d been convinced the drug was safe, they insisted. Both also strenuously denied anything to do with the deaths of either John Somersby or Connie.

Fraser was sent to Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight where at least he had a cell to himself and could phone Frances more easily. He wrote to Ilie and Petru thanking them and hoping they hadn’t got into too much trouble. He asked Agnes to act for them, and she said she would.

Tom went back to London where he tried putting all the information he had through HOLMES, the Home Office Large Major Enquiry System. The results were inconclusive. This didn’t altogether surprise him, since the system was, as its name suggested, designed for large enquiries with numerous suspects. Then he constructed a flow chart of all the people involved, their motives and movements, but this didn’t help much either.

Lateral thinking was called for.

There were, he realised, four questions he needed answers to:

Were John Somersby and Connie Flint killed by the same person?

If so, who benefited from both their deaths?

If not, were the two killings connected, e.g. by Alkovin, or were they entirely separate?

Who, separately, benefited from each of the deaths?

The trouble with lateral thinking, he thought, was that although the answer was so easy and obvious once you’d seen it, seeing it in the first place required… well, thinking that was lateral.