Past Mortem (21 page)

Everybody cheered and Christine got off her chair. Newson wondered if she believed what she had said about Helen. He thought that she probably did. People who feel guilty will jump through any number of hoops to justify themselves. Perhaps there was even some truth in her protestations of innocence. After all, in his own case Helen certainly thought that he had done her far more harm than he believed he had.

Just as Newson was about to rejoin Christine a loud voice rang out from the doorway.

‘I’d like to say something if I may.’ The voice was deep and the accent pure New Jersey, but there was no doubting who its owner was. The big American standing in the doorway had once been an English schoolboy. Roger Jameson had come to the reunion.

‘That’s right, everybody, it’s Roger. Roger Jameson, sometime of New York City Police Department, currently on extended vacation.’ Jameson did not need to stand on a chair to command attention. He was six foot four and his fancy leather boots had heels.

‘Now, we all know that Christine isn’t the only person who’s been accused of stuff on our little page of the Friends site. Oh yeah, I copped a whole heap of it too. I’m sure you all know what’s been said and who said it, so I guess there’s no need for me to ask Gary to go repeating it now. Hi, Gary.’

Newson turned to look at Gary, who had been standing at the front of the group. The years had fallen away and once more Gary was terrified. It was as if he expected Jameson to pull out a ruler and start prodding him again right where he had left off more than twenty years earlier.

‘I don’t know what happened between Christine and this Helen Smart girl, to tell you the truth I ain’t even sure I can remember who Miss Smart was. But I do know about what happened between me and Gary here and also who else was involved. I see Kieran Beattie there. How’s it going, Eatie? And one or two of you other guys too. Hi, Pete. Remember us getting puke drunk that time on stolen Scotch? Jeez, we felt bad, huh? Anyway. I guess what me and you boys all know is that every word of what Gary Whitfield wrote about us tormenting him is true and more besides, and what I want to say is that I’ve come here today to ask Gary Whitfield’s forgiveness. I did what I did and I can never undo it, and I will feel the guilt of it until the end of my days. Like I say, I became a cop and in the course of my duties on the streets of New York City I’ve come to recognize what it feels like to be a victim. What it feels like to live in fear of the violence of people to whom you mean nothing. I know the fear Gary suffered and I am ashamed. I was a shitty, heartless bastard, Gary Whitfield. And I do not deserve your forgiveness, but that is what I’m asking for. If you can’t find it in your heart to grant it to me, just say the word and I’ll leave right now so you can get on with your party in peace. But if you can forgive me, then I’d like to stay and share a drink with you.’ There was a moment’s pause before Gary stepped- forward with tears in his eyes, reached up and hugged the big New Yorker.

‘Thank you, Roger,’ he said. ‘Now I think we both have closure.’

Clapping and cheering broke out around the room.

‘Let me buy this man a drink!’ Roger Jameson shouted. ‘Hell, I don’t care if the dollar’s gone through the floor. Let me buy everyone a drink!’ He put his arm around Gary and Gary’s partner, and together they all headed across the room to the bar. Christine hit the music. She had arranged for the hotel to put a stereo in the room and had brought along some eighties compilation albums. Whatever faults there may have been with her memory, there was no denying that she was a superb organizer.

‘These are Friends Reunited albums,’ Christine explained. ‘They do their own compilations. Isn’t that great? I’ve got all our years.’

Suddenly the little room was jumping. It was partly the music and partly the booze, but there was no doubt that the real catalyst had been Roger Jameson and his extraordinary
mea culpa
. Until his arrival Newson had felt only tension in the room, a group of virtual strangers all concerned for their own fragile egos, anxious not to be thought sad, anxious not to be left leaning against a wall talking to Eatie Beattie, all vaguely and uncomfortably aware that their very presence at a gathering of this kind might indicate inadequacy. Might mean that things had been better for them before they had had the chance to screw up their lives. Jameson had changed all that. He had created an event, a positive and empowering moment in the
present
. They had all somehow moved on. The day was no longer simply about nostalgia, it was about closure and a better future, which meant that they were now safe to wallow in the past freed from the secret fear that it was all that they had left.

‘That was some speech,’ Newson said to Jameson when they bumped into each other on the way back from the toilets.

‘Yeah, I guess. Good to see you, Spewsome. We were pretty good pals for a while back then, weren’t we?’

‘I was scared of you, Roger.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I think what you said to Gary did for us all. It was very brave. Very generous.’

‘Nah, it wasn’t generous, it was selfish. I needed to get through that for myself. Gary was the generous one to accept my apology the way he did.’

‘He’d have ruined the party if he hadn’t.’

The two men did not return immediately, lingering instead in the corridor together. Jameson lit up a Marlboro from a softpack of reds.

‘Wow, you really have turned into an American,’ Newson said. ‘They’ll tell you to put it out, of course.’

‘When they do I will. I don’t want no trouble with the English authorities. Hell, I guess the English authorities is you, isn’t it, Ed? A detective inspector, no shit, that’s like a chief for us. I never got up offa pounding the sidewalk.’

‘Ali, but you’re an
American
cop. You see, to us that makes you cooler and better whatever the rank.’

Jameson laughed; ‘
Was
an American cop. I ain’t actually left yet, but I very much doubt I’ll ever get back into service…There’s issues, you see.’ Newson sensed that Jameson had more to get off his chest than the speech he had made about Gary Whitfield. ‘Do you ever get like conflict of interests and loyalties at work, Ed? Like times when you know you should do one thing but you do the opposite because of other cops on the team or whatever?’

‘Well, I’m in love with my detective sergeant. I suppose that creates conflicts of interest, and it certainly makes life a bit complicated.’

‘Oh, boy. I imagine that would,’ Roger laughed. ‘So…is he like gay too, or what?’

‘She’s a woman, Roger.’

‘Of course, right. Yeah…Ha ha. My mistake.’

‘No problem.’

‘Does she know about what you feel, Ed?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll bet you a hundred bucks she does.’

‘We weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you. What conflict of interest were you talking about?’

‘Whistle-blowing. That’s why I doubt I’ll go back to the Department, see. I blew the whistle. I copped an immunity plea and sang.’

‘You’ve lost me a bit here, Roger. What happened?’

‘It was one of those pack things, Ed. You know, when guys act one way ‘cos they’re all together? Act like they never would if they was on their own. I was in a pack.’

‘Kind of like with poor old Gary Whitfield, you mean?’

‘Yeah, I guess. Except a little more serious, and this time I wasn’t the leader, right? That was our sergeant.’

‘You beat up a suspect?’

‘Shit, he wasn’t even a suspect, Ed. He was just some poor fucking guy from Somalia who didn’t have papers and didn’t have a home. We clear them offa the streets all the time.’

‘Yes. I’ve heard about that. Zero tolerance.’

‘Exactly. You know the theory. City Hall reckoned that if you clean up all the vagrants you’re gonna make the streets nicer, which is something I guess you can’t argue with. But, shit, what a job for a cop, eh? Dragging skinny black guys outa cardboard boxes and ferrying ‘em round town trying to find a cell with five square inches of breathing space to stick them in. Man. It gets to you. It really does get to you.’

‘I imagine it does. And one of these skinny blokes paid the price for your collective frustration.’

‘We’d lost a man that week. Knifed by a guy that our man was waking up in the street. I guess he just woke up on the wrong side of the doorway. Feelings were running high at the precinct and when this Somalian guy started telling us about his rights, some of the boys just flipped.’

‘You killed him?’

‘Yes, we did. Oh, we killed him all right. It was like a kind of frenzy. We stripped him and beat him and the boys was just shouting and going crazy and then the sergeant shoved his night stick up the guy’s ass.’

Newson winced. ‘Jesus, Roger.’

‘Yeah. Don’t some ugly shit happen.’

‘I suppose that’s one way of puffing it. I think I read about this case.’

‘Yeah, those media parasites really went to town on it. Making out like every cop in town was a sadistic racist. Huh. Let me tell you now, those guys on the papers are the first to tell us that their wives are afraid to ride the subway and that we need to clean up the streets and protect honest citizens.’

‘And when Internal Affairs came down on it you testified against your sergeant?’

‘It wasn’t just to save my skin, Ed, I swear it. I was truly sickened by what’d happened. I hadn’t taken part, well, I had at first, shouting at the guy and pushing him around the room, and I gave him one good punch. But as the pace began to pick up I could see things was getting stupid and so I hung back. A coupla the other guys did too but most of the squad just laid into this screaming little fucking skinny guy. They was like a pack of dogs moving in on a piece of meat. I wanted to pull out my gun and fire it in the air and say that this has to stop right now. I really did. But I was too scared. Scared of the sergeant and of the other guys and of what they’d think of me. So I didn’t say nothing and the truth is, on reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that it ain’t good enough that you weren’t involved, you have to try and stop it.’

‘Yes. Yes, I know what you mean.’

‘Anyway, after the guy died everybody calmed down and the sergeant got real scared and started arranging his cover-up and telling everybody just how we’d say he resisted arrest and had a gun or whatever, but I knew I wasn’t going to go along with it. I knew that what had happened was wrong and people had to be punished.’

‘An attitude which didn’t go down so well with your colleagues, I presume.’

‘No, they want to kill me, obviously. That’s why I’m here. I’m on leave until the trial comes up and once it’s done I guess I’ll have to leave town for good. Those guys I’m going to put away are popular guys. They got a lot of friends in the department who don’t appreciate a snitch. I’m a marked man.’

‘But you’re still doing the right thing, Roger. You know that.’

‘Yes, I do. I really do. I’ve seen bullying and I’ve been a bully and I know it’s wrong. People have to fight it. I’m telling you now, Ed, it ain’t good enough to stand around shaking your head saying what a terrible, terrible thing it is.
You have to do something about it
.’

TWENTY

L
adies and gentlemen, Dannii Minogue!’

The class of ‘81 to ‘88 had left the hotel and made their way into Hyde Park, where in the beautiful sunshine fifteen thousand thirty-somethings were all having the time of their past lives.

‘I can’t believe it’s Simon Bates doing the comparing!’ Christine shouted excitedly at Newson. ‘It was you writing that thing for his radio show that first made me fancy you. Isn’t this so
great?
’ She threw her arms around him, and he felt her strangely unyielding breasts pushing against him as Dannii sang about love and kisses.

‘Doesn’t Dannii look great?’

‘I’m afraid I’m something of a purist,’ Newson said. ‘To me the eighties were over musically when Wham! split up. Everything after they played The Final at Wembley in ‘eighty-six is really just the nineties waiting to happen.’

‘You are so
funny
,’ Christine said, taking out a can of ready-mixed gin and tonic from her chiller bag.

‘This is
so
cool!’ said Sally Warren, dancing over with Josh. She had not had a ticket, claiming a prior engagement, but when Christine had offered to try and blag her in with the rest of the crowd she had readily agreed. There were thirty of them and when Christine had handed over the large wedge of tickets at the gate in her best media events co-ordinator manner the security man had not bothered to count the crowd.

‘Spewsome could sneak in between Roger’s legs!’ Pete Woolford had shouted to much hilarity when the plan was hatched.

Now that Christine had got Sally Warren into the gig Newson could see that she was regretting it. Sally was overexcited and clingy. Clearly a day out was a rarity for her. What was more, she’d brought a small child and there was simply no denying the apartheid that existed between people who bring children to gigs and the rest of the civilized world. Three-year-olds cannot be ignored and Josh Warren was no exception. He whined, he wanted crisps, he screamed, and whenever his mother tried to speak to anybody he forced himself between them, smearing his snotty face on whatever legs got in his way.

‘I just want to show Ed something,’ Christine said, taking Newson’s hand. ‘There’s a gang of girls all dressed as Nick Rhodes. Thirty-five-year-old Duranies. It’s hilarious.’

‘We’ll come,’ said Sally, picking Josh up, but Christine pretended not to hear her ex-best friend and quickly dragged Newson away, leaving Sally to dance intensely with her child. When he glanced back a few minutes later Sally was talking with great animation to Kieran Beattie. The status market had gone into freefall for her and she was grateful for the social lifeline that even an outcast like Eatie Beattie was able to throw her.

Up on the stage Dannii Minogue was finishing her set and Simon Bates was reminding the crowd what the gig was about. ‘You all know why we’re here, of course,’ he said, ‘apart from in order to have a fantastic time! And aren’t we doing just that, all right! We’re here because of Kidcall. As you know, all the artists performing here today have given their services for nothing and every penny from the ticket sales will go to where it’s needed most, which is helping kids deal with the cancer of bullying.’

Newson realized that Graham Brooke was standing at his shoulder.

‘I hate the way people use cancer as some kind of catch-all phrase to describe anything bad,’ he said. ‘My mother formed the opinion that the only way to beat cancer is to welcome it into your life as a kind of friend, a difficult friend but a friend none the less. You have to try to learn from it.’

‘Shhhh,’ said Christine.

‘I’m sorry, Christine, but my mother’s just died from cancer.’

‘I know, you told me. Shhhh.’

Newson found himself admiring Christine even more. He’d never have had the front to shut Graham Brooke up like that.

‘Now we all know who we have to thank for this great afternoon of terrific pop music,’ Simon Bates continued from the stage.

‘Look! Look!’ said Christine with excitement. ‘Behind the drum kit! That’s Dick Crosby! Isn’t he just the coolest guy alive?’

Sure enough, if Newson stood on his tiptoes he could see the distinctive gingery mullet and goatee beard now flecked with grey of the great hippy entrepreneur himself.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Simon Bates was shouting. ‘I’d now like to welcome to the stage the man who has personally underwritten all the costs for today’s show so that your money goes where you want it to go. Helping kids here in London and all over the UK. Please welcome the President of Kidcall, Dick Crosby!’

There was a huge cheer and the still boyishly good-looking billionaire skipped on to the stage. ‘All
right!
’ he shouted. ‘How cool is this or what!’ Having paid tribute to the acts that were appearing, Dick Crosby went on to make a brief but moving speech about the curse of bullying.

‘It’s the feeling of helplessness and isolation,’ he reminded the crowd. ‘Since I joined Kidcall I’ve met loads of kids who’ve been bullied and I know now that it’s not only the physical pain that it can cause. It’s the isolation. The feeling that you’re alone and beyond help.’

Newson looked around and he could see Gary Whitfield nodding gently, his eyes filmed with boozy tears.

‘Kidcall is there to show those tormented children that they are
not
alone. That help is out there and that somebody
can
do something. All they have to do is pick up the phone. It’s free, of course, and they’ll be immediately talking to a trained counsellor. A counsellor who’ll give them the help and advice they need to break out of the cycle of lonely despair.’

‘God, I just think he’s so great,’ said Christine, and Newson could only agree with her. Looking around, he could see the effect that Crosby was having on the crowd. He spotted Roger Jameson, staring intensely at the stage, an almost evangelical expression on his face. For a moment Newson felt a shiver as he recalled the terrible story that Jameson had told him. ‘
You have to do something about it
,’ he’d said.

Looking at him now, Newson felt that Jameson would probably be prepared to do anything.

Christine’s voice intruded on his thoughts. ‘I’d so love to meet Dick Crosby,’ she said. ‘I’ve done a couple of corporate things for some of his companies but he’s never actually been there, of course.’

Newson had had a few drinks now and Christine was looking better and better by the minute. It wasn’t just that he fancied her, either. Despite himself he rather liked her too. He knew she was a bit silly and no doubt in her youth she’d been as unpleasant as any kid can be. But there was something invigorating about her high spirits and her determination to have a good time. And then there were those tits. Newson had never felt cosmetically implanted boobs before and in his half-drunk state he was fascinated to know what they were like. Was it possible that if he played his cards right he might find out that very evening?

Christine’s hand brushed against his. This had happened a number of times now. Perhaps it was time to make his move. As he pondered this, Newson realized with a thrill that he had not thought about Natasha since he’d mentioned her to Jameson in the hotel corridor, hours ago. This was something of a record and Newson felt liberated.

‘You did
say
you might try and introduce me,’ Christine said, and his heart leapt into his throat as she slipped her hand into his.

He was on!
He must be! All he had to do now was not screw up and it seemed more than possible that Christine Copperfield,
the
top babe in school, would once more be his. He’d been expecting Christine to bring up his internet boast about introducing her to Dick Crosby all afternoon and had been intending to brush it off when it arose, saying that it wasn’t the right time to go bothering the great man. Now, with a belly full of booze and the greatest conquest of his life standing so close to him, he knew that he was going to have to go for it. Faint heart never won fair lady and Newson
so
wanted to pull Christine Copperfield for a second time. ‘You know it’s possible that Helen Smart’ll be backstage,’ he said. ‘She works for Kidcall.’

‘So?’

‘Well, you know, you might not want to bump into her, that’s all. She’s still obsessing on what she said you did to her.’

‘Oh yeah, like I’d
really
pass up the chance to meet Dick Crosby because some sad weirdo doesn’t have a life.’

Newson procrastinated no longer. ‘Come on,’ he said and, giving her hand a squeeze, he led her towards the large gang of fluorescent-yellow-clad security men barring the way backstage. Standing nearby were a couple of uniformed police constables. It was towards these that Newson made his way, having first taken the precaution of swallowing a couple of mint Tic Tacs to take the booze off his breath.

‘Good afternoon, Constable. I’m Detective Inspector Newson, New Scotland Yard, Murder Investigation Unit,’ Newson said, quickly producing his warrant card and photo ID. As usual, he could sense the reluctance of the constables to accept that he was indeed a senior officer, so while they inspected his credentials he ploughed on with all the authority he could muster. ‘I’m off duty, as it happens. However, this young lady’s in a bit of trouble. Diabetic, lost her insulin, someone nicked it along with her purse. A drug addict, most likely. Bastard. Anyway, I need to get her to the first-aid backstage.’

‘There’s a St John Ambulance post over there, sir. It’s closer.’

‘Backstage is quieter, Constable. The lady’s upset.’

Christine fluttered her eyelids.

‘So will one of you please shift your arse and take us through. I don’t have a uniform and I don’t want to be having this conversation with every private security thug we meet.’

There was no denying Newson’s warrant card and so one of the officers did as he was told and escorted Newson and Christine into the backstage area.

Christine was thrilled. ‘Oh my God. Oh, my
God!
’ she said. ‘I’m like…We’re backstage! There’s Simon Le Bon! He looks fantastic!’

‘Doesn’t he? Let’s get something to eat.’

‘Oh my God. Do you think we can?’

‘Of course we can.’ Newson led Christine to the catering tent, noting with pleasure that various members of the stage crew turned to admire her as they passed. Real live rock ‘n’ roll roadies were checking out the girl
he was with
.

Inside the tent the food was spread out like a king’s feast: cold collations, hot dishes and a fully stocked bar.

‘Crew ticket?’ the serving lady asked.

‘Police,’ Newson said, once more showing his warrant card and ID. ‘We’re with Mr Crosby.’

‘Of course, Officer.’

‘Wow,’ said Christine. ‘Do you do that all the time?’ She piled her plate high with every kind of exotic salad.

‘No, not really. Using your warrant card to gain special privileges is generally thought to be entirely illegal and an ethical nightmare.’

‘How
boring
. It doesn’t do anybody harm. It’s not as if they’re short of food around here, is it?’

‘It’s not so much a catering issue as a matter of principle.’

‘God, don’t you
hate
the way people go on and on about crap like that? Why can’t they just
chill?
This is just
incredible…
Look, there’s Dannii!’

It was true. There she was, actually standing nearby. ‘She’s done
so well
with herself, hasn’t she?’ said Christine.

‘I preferred early Dannii.’

‘Too tabby. Can’t be tabby after eighteen, Ed. Puppy fat is
strictly
for puppies.’

‘Right.’

Christine was’ staring around, wide eyed. ‘Thank you. Thank you,’ she said. ‘This really is an amazing treat.’

‘No credit to me, Christine. All I did was abuse the confidence and trust that Her Majesty has placed in me in order to gain favours to which I have no right.’ ‘You are so
funny
, Ed. You always were.’

They were sitting in the dining area now. The sound of part of the Thompson Twins could be heard from the stage, but Christine was more than happy to remain where they were, surrounded by roadies and musicians looking confident and cool. Occasionally there appeared from a dressing trailer someone who had once been a huge star and for this afternoon at least was once more.

‘The truth of the matter is,’ Christine said, ‘I shouldn’t have dumped you, should I?’

Newson swallowed hard. Christine was moving so fast. Was she joking? ‘That was certainly my opinion at the time.’

‘We had a nice week, though, didn’t we?’

‘We had a lovely week. I took you to the pictures, we went Christmas shopping, we ate hamburgers, watched videos and on three glorious, never-to-be-forgotten occasions — ’