Crooked Herring (16 page)

‘You can scarcely expect me to forget what you’ve told me,’ I said. ‘Crispin was no friend of mine, and I admit we both acted badly towards you, but you can’t suppose I’ll allow you to get away with murder. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to tell the police. You can stay or go as you wish, but I’m going to call them now.’

‘Be my guest. There would, however, be no point.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I have already phoned the police and told them that
you
killed Crispin.’

‘But I didn’t.’

‘Oh, I think the evidence will prove that you did. Let’s begin with your own motive, shall we?’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘You were enraged by Crispin’s online reviews of your books. And rightly. He was trying to destroy your career, Ethelred.’

‘I still don’t understand why he did it,’ I said.

‘That may always remain a mystery. Still, you knew about it and you told me you knew.’

‘That’s not right,’ I said. ‘You told me to go and look at Amazon. You said I was getting some dreadful reviews.’

‘Did I? I don’t recall. I have something of a reputation as a technophobe, so the police may decide not to believe you. But there’s no doubt you saw them. The evidence will be there on the hard drive of your computer.’

‘But why did Crispin write them?’

Henry smiled.

‘Unless …’ I added. ‘Unless you poisoned his mind against me the way you poisoned Emma’s against him – the way you poisoned people’s minds against Mary.’

‘That’s altogether possible,’ said Henry. ‘I mean, that would be quite enterprising of me, wouldn’t it?’

‘But how?’ I asked. ‘And how did you get him to write glowing reviews of your own books? Blackmail?’

Henry looked at his watch. ‘We honestly don’t have time to go into every last detail,’ he said. ‘And it really doesn’t matter. The fact is that you cleverly spotted Crispin was Thrillseeker. You can’t deny you told me that, and I
have, regrettably, had to pass this information on to the police. You had a motive. Revenge.’

‘The police won’t believe I killed him for that reason.’

‘Some might not agree with you. Some might say it was plenty.’

‘Some might. But I doubt that a jury would find it convincing.’

‘If you say so. But there’s more for the jury to ponder, isn’t there? You were also infatuated with his wife. People saw you together in the bar in Harrogate. And Emma herself will testify that you paid her two completely inexplicable visits
once you knew her husband was out of the way
. And you seemed to know he was dead, apparently – you’d said you’d been told. Odd that, isn’t it? The book loan was a pathetic excuse for your visit, when you think about it. It was a feeble fabrication. The jury will see that. Your only motive was quite clearly to see Emma and if possible force yourself on her once you knew her husband was out of the way. Your feelings were not reciprocated, of course, but you were unable to control them.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ I said. But Emma had already confirmed a great deal of that in what she had told the police – the sergeant had told me as much. As for what Elsie might say if the police questioned her, heaven forbid, on my relationship with Emma Vynall – it did not bear thinking about. ‘He fancied her rotten,’ I could hear her saying in her dulcet Essex tones. ‘It stood out a mile. Would you like a biscuit with that coffee, Inspector?’

Henry was smiling, like the villain who has just got away with it. But he had missed one vital fact. ‘You are forgetting,’ I said, ‘that on New Year’s Eve I was here, at
home, watching a programme about meerkats, whereas you were out with Crispin.’

‘I think you said that Denzil, the barman at the Old House at Home, was certain you were in the pub?’

‘He was wrong.’

‘Yes, but he still remembers you clearly. That was a stroke of good fortune that I could not have anticipated. The staff at the club in Chichester may also remember you quite well after your visit there on my behalf. That was as I intended. You left your name, I think. They may find the strange questions you were asking more explicable in the light of the murder charges you will shortly be facing. How unfortunate that the CCTV has now been deleted, but how helpful of you to tell me.’

‘But—’ I said.

Henry held up his hand. ‘We really don’t have time for questions. You and Crispin, having visited the club, then drove to Didling Green, where you strangled him and dumped his body in the brambles. When the police check your car they will obviously find plenty of mud matching that of the crime scene, because I made sure you went there. The first time it was clear, from your description of your search, that you had gone nowhere near the body. So, I had to take you back and show you where to tread. The police will therefore find copious footprints of yours all over the hillside, but enough of them close to the hiding place to convince them that you had dumped Crispin there. It is possible, if they manage to track her down, that the police will also be able to talk to a lady who walked her dog there a couple of days after the murder and found you acting in a very suspicious manner. Some people do
actually believe that thing about murderers returning to the scene of their crime …’

‘Hardly proof,’ I said.

Henry held up his hand again. ‘They will also, when they search your car, find Crispin’s Barbour jacket and a length of rope – you will recall that I threw both into your boot the day we were at Didling Green. I assume they are still there?’

‘So that
is
Crispin’s coat? I thought it was a bit big for you at the time, then I found the envelope …’

‘After you killed Crispin, you drove back down to the pub for a whisky. A few days later you returned and stole a photo because you were in it. I’m sure the landlord will remember you.’

‘None of this matters. I’ll obviously still tell the police that it was you who killed Crispin and that you tried to frame me.’

‘Frame you? Why on earth would I have done that? Because of some first novel competition years ago? An unimportant prize that I had no need to win? And in any case, I
like
you. I’ve just written two improbably good reviews of your books.’

‘Improbably good? You didn’t really mean what you wrote? You didn’t think they were masterpieces?’

‘As if.’

‘But I scarcely knew Crispin.’

‘You certainly had his mobile number.’

‘Only because you made a call from my phone …’

Henry smiled. ‘Precisely. There will be a record of the call. From your mobile to his. I have, naturally, deleted the voicemail I left.’

‘You kept his phone?’

‘For as long as I needed it. In short, Ethelred, you had Motive, Opportunity, Means and the police will have a great deal of evidence that you have subsequently been fannying about exactly where the body will be found … probably it is being found at this very moment, because I told the police that you had taken me to Didling Green and then driven me up onto the Downs for no apparent reason other than, perhaps, to check that the body was well hidden. I described where you made me look and which areas you steered me away from. There’s no point in making it too difficult for them. And they will find evidence that Crispin was in your car. There should be plenty of DNA transferred to the passenger seat via that Barbour – or enough anyway. It’s amazing how little is required.’

‘So that’s it. Your revenge in full. Crispin is dead and I’ll be convicted for the murder.’

‘Hopefully,’ said Henry. ‘I mean, that would be really nice if it all works out.’

‘But all I have to do is to say it was you. They’ll check your car too …’

‘Sadly I wrote it off a couple of days ago. My fault. Nobody else hurt. Hardly worth claiming on the insurance policy. It’s already been sold as scrap and crushed. I watched it go. Did you like the new one, by the way? Not as impressive as the Jag, but quite nippy and good on these winding roads.’

‘Then there’s the photo …’

‘I think it may have been in the car when it went to the crusher. Actually, I’m pretty certain it was.’

‘The man who took it – he may still have it on his camera or computer.’

‘He might. You might even track him down and he might even not have deleted it. It’s a bit tricky to see who it is, though – just somebody in a tweed jacket, a bit out of focus – it could even be you. It’s a small risk that I’ll have to take.’

‘But why should the police believe you rather than me?’

‘You mean that I killed my good friend, Crispin? To whom I had offered a bed in his hour of need? The man
I reported missing
? The man I reported missing when
you
also knew he was missing but failed to contact the police in any way or even mention your concerns to his wife – an odd fact that she will also probably feel the need to mention.’

‘I was going to report him missing but then there was that text from Crispin … you sent that as well, didn’t you?’

‘You’ll have difficulty proving it. I obviously haven’t been so stupid as to keep the phone. And the police will see that you have been rushing from one side of Sussex to the other covering your tracks.’

‘You asked me to.’

‘You have that in writing?’

‘Of course not.’

‘What I asked you to do, will in that case always remain our little secret.’

‘I thought I’d been living in a badly plotted novel,’ I said. ‘It was one of yours.’

‘Not as badly plotted as all that,’ he said. ‘You’ll find I’ve covered pretty much everything – occasionally with
your help, but every great writer deserves a competent editor to fill in the little gaps. You might consider a career as an editor, once you get out. Except at your age you may not live long enough to breathe the untainted air beyond the prison walls.’

‘You think you’ve been very clever …’

‘That’s because I have been,’ said Henry. ‘As for you Ethelred … there were times when I could scarcely disguise my exasperation with your incompetence, though I always did my best. Well, I won’t have to put up with it any longer. I expect the next time I see you will be in court when I’m giving evidence against you. While I’m perjuring myself, you can contemplate the fact that none of this would be happening if you hadn’t been a feeble-minded tosser.’

‘Wait!’ I said, because Henry was already heading for the door. ‘You won’t get away with this.’

‘Oh really, Ethelred,’ he said. ‘I’d hoped for better from you than that old cliché! Lots of people get away with murder. I’m going to be one of them. You, sadly, are not. The police will be here very soon. You’d probably better pack a bag or something to take to the police station. Take your Kindle; you’ll have plenty of time on your hands. I shouldn’t imagine you’ll get bail. And don’t even think of trying to destroy Crispin’s coat or washing the car. Washing won’t remove every trace of the mud, even if you had time. And I can swear to the court that I saw Crispin’s coat in your boot, along with a piece of rope. I won’t even need to lie about that, will I? Because I did see them quite clearly shortly after I placed them there. Goodbye, Ethelred. There’s no need to see me out, by the way.’

‘You stupid, moronic, brain-dead arsehole.’

‘Thanks, Elsie, but we don’t have time for pleasantries. The police will be back in about half an hour to arrest me for Crispin’s murder. What do I do?’

‘Ethelred, I advise you on contracts, foreign rights, royalty payments and occasionally plot lines and syntax. You need a criminal lawyer, though there may not be one good enough to get you off this. Why couldn’t you see how Henry was setting you up?’

‘Did you see how he was setting me up?’

‘I advise you on contracts, foreign rights, royalty payments and occasionally plot lines and syntax. I do not tell you when you are being framed for a murder charge. Check your contract. It’s all in there.’

‘So, as my agent, you have no advice?’

‘Correct.’

‘What would you advise as a friend?’

‘As a friend, I’d advise you to pack your Kindle. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands in prison.’

‘I’ve just spent ten minutes explaining to you in detail how Henry worked this one. And that’s the best you can do?’

There was a long pause.

‘Elsie,’ I said. ‘Are you eating biscuits?’

‘I think I just do it when I get bored,’ she said. ‘You say this video of Henry and Crispin would have cleared you?’

‘Yes, but they’ve wiped it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘He said he was going to do it straight away.’

‘I’ve had writers who said they were letting me have the revised manuscript straight away. It turned out they
meant next year. Why do writers do that? The whole unwillingness to let go thing, I mean?’

‘Elsie, we are drifting from the subject and I’m about to be arrested for murder.’

‘Oh yes. Sorry about that. Henry’s been busy, then. But I bet he hasn’t been as clever as he thought. There must be something else – something really obvious that we’ve missed.’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘I’ll have to get back to you on that.’

At that point I heard the doorbell ring.

‘I’m going to have to go,’ I said.

And I couldn’t even remember where I’d left my Kindle.

Of course, I was not worried about Ethelred. After all, he had not committed the murder, Henry had. And there was bound to be stacks of evidence out there to prove it. On the debit side, Ethelred had behaved like a pillock up to and including the twelfth
instante mense
. There was every chance that he would continue to behave like a three-rosette pillock under interrogation.

When discussing the
raison d’être
of the amateur detective with Ethelred, I had pointed out that the main one tended to be that the said detective had skills or knowledge that the regular police lacked. The first piece of knowledge I had was that Henry Holiday was a nasty little toerag. I also knew that he couldn’t plot to save his life. His books were full of unnecessary twists and improbable logic. One unlikely red herring after another. Take the ‘strangling’ of Ethelred up on the hill above Didling Green. Why do that?
Because it provided a dramatic moment when he fancied one was needed, just to keep things ticking over. The one thing I was sure of was that Henry would have slipped up over and over again. And my other special skills and knowledge came from being an agent. I was a dab hand at spotting crap.

I checked my iPhone for messages and news. There was one news item that caught my eye. Following a tip-off, the police had discovered the body of missing crime writer Crispin Vynall in a wood on the South Downs. An arrest had already been made. More was to follow.

I needed a bit of quiet and a little snack containing chocolate or biscuit or both. I checked the cupboard. No biscuits. I took a piece of scrap paper and made a shopping list:

It was progress of a sort. Once I was properly nourished, I could return to the fray and prove Ethelred’s innocence. In the meantime, I could only hope Ethelred wasn’t screwing things up too badly at his end.