The Dead Side of the Mike (16 page)

‘I suppose not. Mind you, he has got a streak of exhibitionism in him.'

‘You can say that again.' Steve screwed up her face with dissatisfaction. ‘On the other hand, his seeing Andrea that evening does give support to the suicide theory.'

‘In what way?'

‘We were looking for something that could have changed her mood from one of euphoria to self-destruction. I would imagine a visit from lover-boy, treading with his usual sensitivity, could have done the trick.'

‘Yes.' Charles mused. ‘Oh, incidentally, you know our theory about Andrea having had an affair with Danny Klinger? I'm afraid that's fallen apart too.' And he filled her in on his visit to New York and conversation with Fat Otto.

When he finished, there was a silence. Then Steve said, ‘It's very odd. Everything now seems to point towards suicide in Andrea's case and I think I'd accept that, but for one thing.'

‘What's that?'

‘The cassette. That's the one piece that doesn't fit. For a start, that Andrea, with her love of classical music, should possess such a thing. God, to think of the things she used to say about those terrible Radio Two music sessions she had to do, and yet the music on the cassette seems, to my untutored ear, to be virtually indistinguishable. Then one couples that with the fact that apparently something is rotten in the state of Musimotive, something bad enough to cause the normally ebullient Mr Klinger to kill himself. And she had Klinger's name written on the cassette.'

‘And, we know from Fat Otto, she did actually put in an appearance at Musimotive.'

‘Yes.'

‘But didn't meet Klinger.'

‘No.'

‘You don't suppose . . .' Charles said slowly, ‘that she had found out what it was that was wrong at Musimotive. I'm thinking of all those strange things she said on the night of her death about investigative journalism, about the truth having to come out. Previously, I had only thought of that in relation to her telling Vinnie Lear about Mark's infidelity, but really it's much more likely that it referred to some major crime she had stumbled on. There seems strong evidence that something criminal was happening at Musimotive, and we know that she went there only a few days before her death. Isn't the most likely thing that she had found out the details of Klinger's dirty deeds and had to be silenced before she told anyone?'

Steve Kennett's huge eyes sparkled. ‘Yes, now that does make sense. I mean, it's quite possible that she passed on whatever she knew to the New York cops and that is why the company was raided and closed down.'

‘So the damage was done. In that case, why should anyone bother to silence her?'

‘Klinger was so furious that he killed her out of revenge for ruining his operation . . .?' She didn't sound very convinced.

‘Hmm. And then a few days later killed himself? Out of remorse for having killed her?' Back to bloody remorse. ‘I don't like cases where the murderer kills himself. They are unsatisfying. You can't prove anything.'

‘No.'

‘On the other hand, it is the most likely solution we've come up with so far. Andrea shops Klinger, he kills her, then kills himself out of guilt – or because his business has fallen apart. Open and shut case. Dull, though. I don't like it. Let's pretend we haven't thought of it. Let's concentrate on someone else. Back to Mark – how about that?' he suggested randomly. ‘Mark at least saw her on the night of her death. Did he tell you what he said to her?'

‘According to him, he just went into the channel because he was passing – though going down to the Fifth Floor is a strange route from John Christie's office to the club. Anyway, he says he just offered to get her a coffee. They got talking, he got the strong impression that she no longer wanted anything to do with him, and left.'

‘Makes sense.'

‘Mind you, that's a translation of what he actually said. It didn't come out in those words. I had to read between the lines of his ego. He presented the case as that of the poor misunderstood lover trying to explain himself to the woman who had so capriciously rejected him. And of course he was also angling everything so that I should take pity on him and offer half my bed. He has an extremely devious mind, your friend.'

‘I don't know him that well,' Charles offered in conciliation. ‘Tell me, did Andrea accept the offer of a cup of coffee from Mark?'

‘Why do you ask?'

‘There was a cup of coffee in the channel. It contained traces of Mogadon. An unscrupulous person, who wanted her too dopey to object to the idea of committing suicide – or at least appearing to commit suicide – could easily bring her the coffee with the Mogadon already crumbled into it.'

Steve nodded in admiration. ‘Yes, I like that. But I'm afraid the answer's no. Andrea refused Mark's offer of coffee – at least according to him. She already had one.'

‘Which someone else could have supplied.'

‘Yes. Or which she could have got herself.'

‘Where from?'

‘At that time of night, either from the Eighth Floor canteen or one of the machines.'

‘Coffee from machines doesn't come in those polystyrene cups, does it?'

‘No, that's true. It comes in thin white plastic.'

‘So the coffee came from the canteen.'

‘Yes.'

‘Would she have had time to get it herself before she started recording the football?'

‘Depends when she left the club. I talked to some of the people she was with, actually, and they said she had to rush off to get to the channel in time.'

‘And she wouldn't have gone to the canteen once the match had started?'

‘Not Andrea. She was meant to be there monitoring the recording to see that nothing went wrong. She may have complained a lot about the job being boring, but she was very conscientious.'

Charles smiled. ‘So it looks as if we may have found out something new. Someone did bring a cup of coffee to her in the channel.'

‘And that person could have been the murderer.'

‘Could have been. If it's a murderer we're after.'

‘Klinger?'

‘I suppose that's the most obvious solution, but it does mean Klinger must have done his homework very well. To know that that was where she would be, to know where to get coffee in Broadcasting House, even to get inside the building at that time of night . . . I don't know, it strains my credulity.'

Steve shrugged. ‘He's the only one we know with a Musimotive connection.'

‘Yes. I just wish there was someone else, someone inside the BBC – that'd make so much more sense. Is there nobody else in the Features Action lot who has any connection with New York?'

‘Possibly. I've
been
there and I dare say a lot of the others have, but that's not what you'd call a connection.'

‘No.' He grimaced. ‘Why did Andrea go?'

‘To New York? For a holiday . . . To get away from Mark . . . To assert herself.'

‘What do you mean – assert herself?'

‘Well, to show she could do things on her own, that she was independent. I think she went particularly because Keith had gone.'

‘Her discontented husband?'

‘Yes, he went over some time last year, and I think she wanted to prove she was quite as capable of doing it as he was. They were terribly competitive, even after they split up – I think in Andrea's case, especially after they split up. She wanted to prove not only that she wasn't dependent on him emotionally, but also that she could do just as well as he could in her career. I think that professional jealousy was as much a reason why they split up as his infidelities. It was okay when they were both on the same level as SMs, but when he got his attachment and became Kelly Nicholls the Producer, she really felt she had to do something to assert herself.'

‘I thought his name was Keith.'

‘Oh yes, when he was an SM. But he didn't think that sounded impressive enough for a producer. So he started to call himself Kelly.'

‘KELLY?' CHARLES REPEATED the name, but did not explain what it meant to him. Previous cases had suggested that one could be too lavish with murder allegations.

‘Yes,' said Steve. ‘A lot of people get dissatisfied with their names when they know they are going to be broadcast at the end of programmes.'

‘To the listening millions.'

‘Oh, come on, this is radio. To the listening thousands. Yes, you find a lot of people sprouting middle initials and hyphens and second barrels. Or, like Keith, having complete name-transplants.'

‘Hmm. One of the oldest forms of cosmetic surgery. Favoured by the immigrant, the social climber and the criminal.' Steve smiled and poured him some more wine as he continued, ‘Tell me, what's Keith like? I've only met him once.'

She grimaced with the effort of encapsulating his character. ‘Well . . . he seems to think the world owes him a living, that what he is doing is beneath him.'

‘Is that true only of his current job or of whatever he's doing?'

‘I don't know. I sometimes think it's everything. Even sex. I think he feels all the little girls he screws so avidly are beneath him in more senses than one.'

Charles grinned. ‘Tell me, has Keith, or Kelly, ever been in any trouble?'

‘Trouble? How do you mean?'

‘I don't know. Financial trouble, trouble with the law, trouble with BBC Management . . .'

‘Hmm. He hasn't always been universally popular within the Beeb. He can be very bloody-minded when he wants to be.'

‘I can imagine it.'

‘I think he's had the occasional ticking-off for that. Then a few years ago he was reprimanded for illicit tape-copying.'

‘Translate that for the layman, please.'

‘It's something that happens quite often – at least Andrea said it did. Particularly on music sessions. The MD or one of the other musicians wants a tape for his private collection or for demonstration purposes or something, and if he knows the SM, he slips him a quid to do an extra copy.'

‘On BBC tape?'

‘Usually, yes.'

‘So that's the sort of thing Ronnie Barron was talking about – or rather that Helmut Winkler was talking about and Ronnie Barron was denying.

‘Yes. I don't know how much of it goes on now. Only very few people were ever involved and, since there's obviously been some kind of clamp-down and indeed nowadays everyone's got their own cassette players to record off the air, maybe it doesn't happen anymore.'

‘But it did with Keith . . .?' Charles prompted.

‘Oh yes. Sorry, I'd forgotten where we started. Yes, a couple of years ago Keith was found to have been doing it on a fairly regular basis and was duly hauled over the coals for it. I shouldn't think he does it anymore, now he's reached the dizzy heights of producer. Mind you, he was always on the lookout for some scheme to make a fast buck. Used to keep trying to invent formats for panel games and things. He's got quite a good sort of crossword brain.'

‘Hmm. Of course, the producer's thing was only an attachment. And it's over now. He might be hard up again.'

‘You're more up to date on his movements than I am. I haven't seen him for months.' A thought struck her. ‘Why, are you suspicious of Keith?'

Charles shrugged. ‘I'm suspicious of everyone.'

‘Even me?' For the first time in their relationship, there was something girlish, almost coquettish, in her demeanour.

It was an obvious cue for him to make some verbal advance, but he didn't take it. The change of manner was still ambiguous and he didn't want to risk their growing empathy by moving too quickly. He liked her rather too much for that and he hadn't forgotten her remarks about Mark and men who can't be shaken in their conviction of their own attractiveness.

So he just replied, ‘Yes, even you,' and rose slowly to his feet.

She didn't demur and accompanied him to the door. ‘So you're continuing the investigation?'

‘Oh, very definitely. It's rather handy that I'm meant to be seeing Nita tomorrow. She'd know more about Keith's behaviour at work than most people. And I wonder . . . How are your contacts in the SMs' world?'

‘Pretty good.'

‘Would you be able to check out Keith's movements on the night Andrea died?'

‘I should think I could manage that.'

‘I'll say goodbye then.' He kissed her gently on the forehead, which was at an appropriate height for such a gesture. It seemed an appropriate gesture too. As he walked home, he felt as close to her as if they had slept together. Time, it only needed time.

The phone rang the next morning, just as he was about to leave for an appointment with Nita Lawson to talk about the Dave Sheridan feature. It was Frances.

‘Sorry, Charles, I just had to ring someone and tell them. I've done something very rash.'

‘What?'

‘I'm still shell-shocked from it.'

‘Come on, tell me what it was.'

‘I've bought a car.'

‘Great.'

‘Brand new. I've never written a cheque for so much money. I'm trembling.'

‘You shouldn't. It sounds a good idea. Get what you can out of it before all the oil wells dry up. You've got less than twenty years.'

‘But, Charles, I do feel awful about it. Awful and excited.' Her voice was very young; it was the Frances whom he had married. He warmed to her.

‘What is it?'

‘Renault 5. And I'm having a radio put in. With cassette.'

‘Good.'

‘I do really need it. Bus is awfully unreliable for getting to school. And since term's just ended and I was feeling low after Mummy's death.

And I know there'll be some money coming there, so I got out all my savings from the Building Society and . . .'