Souvenirs of Murder (12 page)

‘Has Brinkley ever seen you under the influence of drink or drugs?' Greenshaft asked.

‘No, hardly.'

‘Did you work closely with him so that he would be able to build up that kind of picture of you?'

‘No, and any conversations I'd had with him were invariably over the phone. He was just a bloke I asked for information from, for God's sake!'

I cleared my throat and Patrick shot a sideways look in my direction. No, no, don't get angry, I mentally tried to beam at him.

‘You haven't answered the question,' Hurst persevered. ‘Was the job over your head?'

Patrick shook his head. ‘It wasn't. But not one I would have chosen. You can't pick and choose.'

Greenshaft returned the folder to his briefcase and leaned back in his chair. ‘Enough. I think, knowingly or not, purposely or not, consciously or not, you shot those people. I cannot, however, call you guilty of murder as my personal opinion is that you were unaware of your actions at the time. I don't see how it can ever be brought to court. It's not a case the Crown would win as there's no firm evidence either way and you'd be acquitted.'

‘Then arrest me and take it to court,' Patrick said. ‘I can't be expected to live the rest of my life with this vague accusation hanging over my head.'

‘No, it would be a waste of public money and all for nothing. It's not the final decision, of course, as I shall have to present a report to my superiors. It's no disgrace, Gillard, you were obviously not in your right mind having been forcibly given dangerous chemicals. I'm afraid it'll be the end of your career with SOCA though.'

Patrick just sat there and calmly regarded him and did not have to voice that in his opinion the man was slipshod, incompetent, small-minded and, as before, a bastard.

EIGHT

They left, Greenway miming to us on his way out that he would get in touch later. A deep silence fell.

Patrick spoke first. ‘I have a dreadful feeling the man's right.'

I said, ‘And I have a dreadful feeling things are going to be left like this because funds are tight and, hey, those killed were only a bunch of crooks on any number of wanted lists so why spend a load of money on finding out what really happened?'

Patrick merely shrugged.

‘Why
Brinkley
of all people? There are dozens of folk who would give you a good character reference. The grapevine must be fizzing with this affair. Did he come forward with revenge in mind?'

‘I don't think I'll bother to ask him.'

‘No, but it might be worth talking to Richard Daws.'

‘I honestly can't see what good it would do.'

‘You need some kind of official backing to investigate this yourself.'

‘It's already come right from the top that that's not an option.'

‘Lunch,' I decided. ‘I can't think on an empty stomach and I don't know about you but I didn't have any breakfast.'

‘We could go to the pub,' Patrick suggested, showing a bit more interest.

‘And where will Greenway have taken the Inquisition for something to eat as there's nowhere else for miles around? To the Ring o' Bells.'

‘I could thrash 'em at darts.' He responded glumly.

‘Don't forget you still have a job to do.'

‘That's right, it is only SOCA I'll be given the boot from. You know the very worst thing about this? Being blamed for the child's death.'

‘It's completely unacceptable,' James Carrick said when he ‘just happened by' that afternoon. ‘And, frankly, I'm staggered. What are the Met's findings? Did Greenshaft even consult with them? Besides which, it's very early days to come to any kind of conclusions. With your permission I'll get on to a couple of contacts in London and ask them to find out what's going on with regards to the investigation. I'm surprised you haven't been interviewed by the Met, actually.'

‘Up until today I've been regarded as goods still contaminated by mostly illegal substances and Greenway's been doing all the talking,' Patrick told him. ‘And thanks for the offer of help.'

‘How are you getting on with the Blanche enquiry?'

‘Are there any preliminary findings on the hammer?'

‘No, not yet.'

‘It isn't one of Dad's, I asked him to check and he rang me just now to say that nothing's missing. I shall need to have it back when the lab's finished with it – if it is thought to be the murder weapon – to show to the blokes working on the rectory. Some of them have completed their share of the work and gone home so it'll involve a bit of chasing around.'

We spent the rest of the afternoon dodging yet more heavy rain showers interviewing those on the church cleaning rota, learned nothing of real interest apart from some hair-raising gossip with not the remotest connection to the case and drank endless cups of tea. We had just come in the front door when Patrick's mobile rang and I got on with the usual domestic matters while he answered it.

‘That's it,' Patrick said, finding me in Katie's room. ‘Carrick's had a call from HQ. They've pulled the plug on me.'

‘Greenshaft,' I said.

‘He hates ex-military in the job, doesn't he?'

‘I'm so sorry,' I said, putting my arms around him.

‘James is livid. But he's helpless. He's still going to sound out his contacts in the Met about the other business though.'

We both suddenly realized that Katie was standing in the doorway, just back from playing hockey after school.

‘A threesome cuddle is the latest trend,' Patrick said and we made room for her. ‘Good heavens, your head's almost up to my chest now.'

‘Someone at school said you'd killed some people,' Katie whispered. ‘Please tell me it's not true.'

Patrick sat down on the bed and patted the space beside him. ‘Some people
were
killed,' he said when she had seated herself. ‘And I was somewhere nearby. But I don't know what happened because someone else had given me an injection so I can't remember. But to answer your question properly, no, I'm as sure as I possibly can be that I didn't kill them.'

‘And you still can't remember?' said Katie in a small voice.

‘No.'

She put an arm consolingly around him in a natural fashion that I found utterly wonderful. ‘They say that if you go back to where something happened that you can't remember about it helps you to remember again.' She regarded him with her hazel eyes. ‘Uncle Patrick, please go and do that so I can tell everyone it's not true.'

‘I will,' Patrick said.

‘Promise?'

‘I promise.'

‘Tomorrow?'

‘OK, tomorrow.'

She kissed his cheek and skipped from the room.

‘Tomorrow,' Patrick said, gazing at me steadily. ‘We tell the Greenshafts of this world to go boil their egos.'

‘It'll have to be handled very carefully,' I said a little later when we were discussing what ought to be done. ‘I'm sure I'm only echoing your own thoughts when I say that this is not a situation where you can pretend to be a meter reader in order to get into the house in Muswell Hill as you might have done in D12 days or break in at night. It'll still be a sealed crime scene. To do so would be to jeopardize your own case, in more ways than one, and would actually be very unprofessional. Besides which, you've been expressly forbidden to look into this yourself: I can see the wisdom of it. The Met has its own investigation and may have already turned up vital evidence that clears you completely. That needs to be established before we do anything else.'

Patrick, who had invited this consultant's opinion as a preliminary to making decisions, grimaced. ‘I agree with everything you say but it sounds like several thousand very good reasons to do absolutely nothing. Ingrid, I must do
something
.'

‘Yes, I suggest you get on to James, now, and reiterate that you value his offer of help and please would he get on with it. While he's doing that, why don't you and I go and see Richard Daws? He has a lot of influence and talking to him can hardly be a waste of time.'

The phone rang and I answered it.

‘Do you think you could both come over?' said Elspeth. ‘That's if it's convenient.'

‘Is something wrong?' I asked, knowing from her voice that there was.

‘John's been roughed up. He – he's not badly hurt and I don't need to call an ambulance or anything but—'

‘We'll be right there,' I told her.

As his father had undergone a heart bypass operation not all that long ago Patrick phoned their GP, Anne Walker, who is a family friend and lives nearby. All three of us arrived at the rectory together. Anne immediately, and carefully, checked over her charge, who was in the kitchen of the couple's annex drinking sweet tea, and declared him unscathed but for a couple of bumps and bruises plus a small graze on his hand, which Elspeth had already dealt with. She then, apologizing profusely, rushed off saying that she had promised to visit an elderly and frail friend but would call in later.

‘You were right to urge me to be cautious,' John said to Patrick. ‘I received a phone call to say that people were messing around on that spare ground on the estate. Whoever it was said they thought drink was involved and young children were there as well. I went down there but there was no sign of anyone. A couple of youths jumped on me from behind a bush.'

‘Was it a man or woman who rang you?'

‘A woman – I think. I'm fairly sure whoever it was was trying to disguise their voice.'

‘Did you recognize these youths?'

‘No, it was too dark.'

‘No idea at all then, who they were?'

‘There can't be many youngsters in the village who would do such a thing. I had taken my stick with me and got in a few whacks with it so perhaps that's the reason they ran off quite quickly.'

Predictably, Patrick then pointed out that he himself could have borrowed John's overcoat and gone instead – the two are practically identical in stature – and thus would have been able to nab them.

‘You have enough to contend with at the moment,' the rector said.

‘Yes, and I could have had a dead Dad to contend with as well!' Patrick countered. ‘Oh, for God's sake! – sorry – let's have a dram and snivel into our beards together!'

He flung himself out of the room.

John and Elspeth looked at me.

‘He's off both jobs now,' I said. ‘Complaints seem to have it in for him.'

‘Oh,
dear
,' Elspeth said.

Patrick came back with a tot of whisky for the patient and went away again with an expression on his face that I did not like at all.

Rather a long time elapsed before we moved into the living room and Elspeth started to cook their dinner. I thought about phoning James Carrick to report what had happened but decided to wait in case Patrick had already done so.

‘Have you been in to see the latest progress?' Elspeth called through the open kitchen doorway to me. ‘The new central heating boiler's been put in and tested and the electrician's finishing off all the rewiring tomorrow. Just a bit more plastering and then the decorating and the job's done!'

I had not. I had pushed it from my mind. So much for being site manager.

Had he taken the rest of the Macallan off into the sticks somewhere? I glanced around. No, it was still on the dresser. I looked at my watch. Everyone at the barn conversion would be expecting their dinner as well. I rang Carrie, who is used to an erratic life, and asked her to do something big casserole-wise with chicken joints that were in the fridge plus anything else she could lay her hands on.

Ten minutes later, when I was just about to leave, Patrick returned, dishevelled and a little out of breath. As soon as he had heard the outside door open John had risen from his seat, poured a tot of whisky into a clean glass and now, handed it to his son as he dropped into an armchair.

‘No sign of anyone hanging around,' Patrick reported after a hefty swig. ‘I spoke to a couple of people and they hadn't seen youths running away. But the bus had left shortly before so they may have got on that. I went in the pub and no one had seen anything suspicious. Everyone was horrified and word'll get round. I'll get them if it's the last thing I do.'

‘It's my turn to urge caution,' John said quietly, waving an admonishing finger.

‘This is nothing to do with any murder case as far as I'm concerned, although I did report it to James Carrick,' Patrick told him. ‘This is me finding the little shits – sorry – who beat up my father.' He tossed down the rest of his drink and shot to his feet. ‘Are you absolutely sure you're all right?'

‘Perfectly,' John assured him.

‘Please don't walk in unlit places in the village after dark until this is sorted out. And do let me or James Carrick know if you get any more phone calls or any threats.'

‘Yes, of course. But I'm actually more concerned about you.'

Patrick gave him a wide smile. ‘Justin seems to think I'm a Time Lord like Doctor Who at the moment because I always seem to turn up suddenly when he's doing something he shouldn't. So if things get a bit awkward I'll just regenerate.'

On this carefully engineered light-hearted note we left. Utter despair was only allowed to surface when we got home.

‘Look, you can't blame yourself in any way for what happened,' I said, when Patrick had gone to stand over by the large window, his forehead on the glass, arms braced on the window ledge. ‘You haven't been asking questions about witchcraft, it's your Dad who has a bee in his bonnet about that. We've only made very tentative connections, all guesswork, about Blanche and that kind of activity and it was in a private conversation with your father alone.'