The Malcontenta (13 page)

‘You remember that Greek boy came into the shop a few times a couple of months ago? He’s the one who’s died. You hadn’t seen him since, had you, Errol?’

Jerry asked the question as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, but they all heard the accusation underneath.

‘Jerry, we should speak to Errol on his own, if you don’t mind,’ Kathy said gently. ‘It’s standard procedure, you see.’

‘Oh.’ His lips tightened, then he swung to his feet. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, then, or a drink?’ ‘No, thanks all the same.’

‘Well, I think I will.’ He marched out, closing the door pointedly behind him.

Errol was shorter than his partner, more pugnacious in build and appearance, and without any of his easy charm. He glared at Kathy defensively.

‘You had seen him since, hadn’t you, Errol?’ she said.

‘Had I?’ He adopted a look of wide-eyed innocence, which she took to be the symptom of guilt that Jerry had described.

‘Jerry assures us that you’ve never met Alex Petrou socially, but we know that isn’t true.’ She let it sink in. ‘Well?’

He took a deep breath, shrugged in resignation, raised his eyebrows as if it wasn’t a matter of importance anyway.

‘I bumped into him once or twice in pubs.’

‘Which pubs?’

He mentioned the Jolly Roger and the names of two places in Crowbridge.

‘You became close friends.’ Kathy phrased it as a statement rather than a question, and he flushed and puffed his cheeks.

‘Absolutely not! God, if you’re trying to insinuate…’

‘You weren’t ever worried about him being HIV positive?’

It was an unforgivable tactic, she knew, and deserved to fail miserably, but she was tired of being spoken to as if she were a robot.

He turned white and for a moment looked as if he might topple from his seat. ‘Oh Jesus,’ he gasped. ‘Holy Mother of God! He wasn’t? Say he wasn’t!’

She stared at him, holding his eye for a long while, then said quietly, ‘He wasn’t.’

Colour rushed up his face from the neck. ‘You bitch,’ he hissed, tears spurting in his eyes. ‘You fucking, fucking bitch.’

They waited for him to recover, and then he told them of his affair with Petrou, a ‘passing fancy’, he said, which had come to a definite end two weeks before when he had discovered that the Greek had another lover. ‘Who?’

‘I don’t know. He just mentioned it casually one evening. I got upset.’

‘How did you meet him without Jerry knowing?’

Errol bowed his head. ‘I go to a gym in Crowbridge couple of times a week. Jerry likes me to keep in shape. I used to meet Alex there. I don’t want Jerry to know about this, Sergeant. It would make him very … unhappy. Does he have to?’

Kathy shrugged, suddenly feeling depressed. ‘I’m not sure. Tell us about Sunday afternoon.’

‘Stephen Beamish-Newell rang me at home on Sunday morning. He insisted on meeting me, and I suggested the shop that afternoon - there was an old movie on TV that Jerry particularly wanted to see, so he wouldn’t offer to come with me.’

‘You knew the doctor?’

‘Yes, I do the deliveries for the shop and often go up to the clinic. I’d met him a few times over the years. Anyway, it turned out he’d heard about me and Alex. He wanted me to promise to stay away from him. At first I thought he was worried about the reputation of the clinic or something. But he got very emotional, wouldn’t believe we’d broken up. Then I realized he was jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ Kathy repeated.

‘Yes. I told him so to his face, and he went berserk. That was when Jerry came in. Just as well, even if it did cause me more trouble with Jerry. Beamish-Newell was getting violent.’

‘Really?’

‘God, yes. I reckon he’d have killed me. Manner of speaking.’

‘Errol, I want you to come back with us to County HQ and make a statement. I’ll also want your permission to take a sample of your blood.’

‘Shit. He did have Aids, didn’t he?’ Errol’s hand began trembling again.

‘No, nothing like that. We’re using blood tests to crosscheck witnesses. It’s a scientific procedure. You have nothing to worry about if you’ve told us the truth. Of course, you don’t have to agree to this. It’s quite voluntary, at this stage.’

It was well after eight that evening when they finished with Errol. Gordon and Kathy had a quick meal in the canteen, then returned to their office to check his account against the earlier statements of people at the clinic. It didn’t take long to confirm the information they needed.

‘Beamish-Newell left the shop at around five-fifteen, certainly no later than five twenty-five,’ Kathy concluded. ‘It’s a ten-minute drive to the clinic, but he wasn’t seen by anyone until he appeared for dinner in the dining room towards six-thirty. He had plenty of time to find Petrou and have a fight with him.’

‘You think he did?’

‘Why did he lie to us? I’ll tell you what, I’d love to know if he’s an AB secretor - only two per cent of the population is, Gordon. Only two per cent!’ Kathy’s eyes were bright. ‘No wonder he didn’t want us to take the van. I’d better tell them we’re looking for his prints inside now.’

‘Do you want to speak to him tonight?’

Kathy hesitated, looked at her watch. It was fourteen hours since they’d come to work. ‘He’s not going anywhere,’ she said. ‘We’ll get him in the morning.’

She smiled. ‘Relish the prospect, Gordon. You did well.’

He grinned back.

They met early the next morning, but Kathy had to wait to find out what had happened with the van. It was nine-thirty before she was able to get hold of the sergeant in charge, and she was tapping her fingers impatiently on the phone as she spoke to him. ‘They returned it yesterday evening, Gordon. They’re sorting the fingerprints now. It’ll take them a few hours yet, he says, so we won’t wait. Come on.’

She got up and reached for her coat just as Tanner walked through the door. It was the first time she had seen him since their visit to the temple, and she froze inwardly at the sight of him. He ignored her and spoke abruptly to Gordon. ‘Where are you going?’

Gordon hesitated and half turned his head towards Kathy, expecting her to answer. When she didn’t, he said, ‘To Stanhope Clinic, sir.’

‘What for?’

Gordon looked back at Kathy again, not understanding. Still she made no move to step in. ‘Er … we want to interview the Director again, sir. It appears …’ he searched desperately for the right words. ‘It appears he lied to us in his earlier statement.’

Tanner glared at him, then barked, ‘My office!’ and turned on his heel.

Gordon looked appealingly at Kathy. She shrugged and hung her coat back on the hook. ‘My mistake, Gordon. We should have gone last night.’

They sat facing Tanner across his desk. It was untidy, piled with files and document trays. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke impatiently out of the side of his mouth. The ashtray beside the telephone was already half full. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

‘What, sir?’ Gordon said.

‘Everything. The whole thing.’

Gordon paused, then with relief heard Kathy begin to speak. Yet, unnervingly, Tanner continued to glare at him, snorting smoke from time to time, as if it was Gordon’s words coming out of her mouth.

She gave a full account of the development of their investigation over the previous three days. Her voice was expressionless, which Gordon found almost as alarming as Tanner’s strange eye-contact. When she’d finished, Tanner said, still staring fixedly at Gordon, ‘Your paperwork is shit.’

Gordon blinked. Was he supposed to respond?

‘I want all of this written up. A detailed report. Before you do anything else.’

‘Sir!’ Kathy protested, ‘It’s not that incomplete, apart from yesterday. We’ll write it all up later today, but right now it’s important we see Beamish-Newell immediately.’

‘You’ll do exactly as I say.’

Gordon hesitated, then offered, ‘I’ll write up the reports, Kathy. You can take someone else.’

‘Dowling, you sleepy bugger.’ Tanner’s voice was low and withering. ‘Why don’t you keep your fucking suggestions to your fucking self. I said, you’ll do exactly as I say. Both of you.’

It felt like being back at school on detention. They sat on opposite sides of the table while people came and went, Kathy writing longhand drafts, Gordon typing with two fingers. Her face was white, her lips tight with anger.

They finished soon after eleven and together took a photocopy along the corridor to Tanner’s office. He tossed it carelessly on to a brimming paper-tray. ‘There’s going to be a Senior Officers’ Case Conference on this investigation,’ he said.

‘A what?’ Kathy asked.

‘Senior Officers’ Case Conference,’ he repeated. ‘New management procedure. There was a memo about it a couple of months ago. Don’t you read the memos that come to you? To familiarize senior officers with significant cases and to help investigating officers deal with sensitive cases.’

‘Help?’ Kathy stared at him. ‘We don’t need any help.’

‘That doesn’t seem to be the general view, Sergeant.’ He lifted his eyes and looked her in the face for the first time. ‘Not the general view at all.’

She took a deep breath. ‘When … when is this conference going to be, then?’

‘Today. You’ll be called.’ ‘And meanwhile?’

‘Meanwhile, you sit in your office and do nothing.’

Towards one o’clock Kathy got one of the departmental secretaries to check with Tanner’s office and was told that they should get some lunch. When they returned there was a phone message taped to her door, saying the meeting would be convened at three o’clock in one of the small conference rooms, room 407. At a quarter to three another message arrived to say that it would be delayed for an hour and moved to room 518. At three-fifty they picked up their files, took the lift up to the fifth floor and found that room 518 was next to the Deputy Chief Constable’s secretary’s office. She showed them into the empty room, offered them tea which they refused, and left, closing the door behind her.

At four-fifteen the secretary returned and told them that the meeting would now be held in the Deputy Chief Constable’s own office. She showed them back through her room just as the door on the far side opened. Kathy was stunned to see Dr Beamish-Newell sitting inside. He was talking to someone out of view, and another man whom she didn’t recognize was standing nearby, looking down at him. He was tall, heavily built, with silver hair, wearing a silver-grey business suit. He was eyeing the doctor with a stony expression, and Kathy knew that she had seen his face before. A lawyer, perhaps. The man said something she couldn’t catch, then picked up a slim briefcase and came through the door, glancing briefly at her with a cold eye as he passed.

As they went into the room, Kathy saw that Beamish-Newell had been talking to the Deputy Chief Constable. Next to him was Inspector Tanner.

Long waved them to seats and waited for his secretary to leave. The chairs were low, designed for informal discussion around a coffee table, and made Kathy feel uncomfortably at a disadvantage.

‘I don’t propose to keep minutes at this stage,’ Long began. ‘We are here to review the investigation into the apparent suicide of Alex Petrou at the Stanhope Naturopathic Clinic, sometime during the night of 28 and 29 October. The aim is to dispel some of the confusion which appears to have accumulated around the conduct of this case.’

Kathy had not intended to speak until she understood better what was going on, but Long’s choice of words stung her.

‘Sir,’ she broke in, ‘if we are to review the investigation or conduct of the case, it is surely improper to have Dr Beamish-Newell present.’

Long raised his eyes to let her see his irritation, then lowered them again to his papers, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment. ‘Dr Beamish-Newell,’ he said quietly, ‘wishes to make a statement which will hopefully clarify matters a good deal. I was about to say that our aim is both to dispel confusion and to reach a resolution of the matter. I take it you would welcome that, Sergeant?’

‘Sir.’

‘Good. Now, doctor, perhaps you would repeat to the investigating officers what you told Inspector Tanner and myself earlier.’

Beamish-Newell said nothing for a moment, eyelids lowered, then his nostrils flared and he nodded. ‘Thank you, Deputy Chief Constable. I am very glad of the opportunity to set the record straight.’ His voice was sonorous. ‘I must confess to some embarrassment. I had no idea that such a matter - tragic certainly, but essentially rather straightforward, one would imagine - that such a matter could become so overcomplicated … take on the character of a major criminal investigation in fact.’ A faint, pained smile flitted across his face. ‘As it unfolded before my eyes, the simple tragedy was transformed into a nightmare. The peace of mind of dozens of people for whom I am responsible, the very balance and stability of the clinic, were threatened. I didn’t think as clearly as I should, and as a result I find I have placed myself and another member of my staff in an invidious position. I should like to clear up any possible misunderstandings now, and bring this whole matter to the simple conclusion that it should have reached on the very first day.’

He cleared his throat, adjusted his position on the chair and fixed his eyes on Kathy.

‘In my statements to you, Sergeant, at the beginning, I made certain simplifications, which in retrospect were counter-productive. I see that now, although at the time it seemed prudent to gloss over some matters which could stain the otherwise impeccable reputation of Stanhope Clinic. The fact is that Geoffrey Parsons and I did not call the police immediately after Mr Parsons found Alex Petrou’s body. At my instigation - and it was entirely my responsibility - we delayed in order to make certain adjustments to the circumstances in which we found him, which were, frankly, of an unpleasant and compromising nature.’

Kathy thought what a good salesman he was. He was immensely persuasive, using everything - his voice, his hands, his body and, above all, his eyes - to engage his audience and make them believe. The phrases were carefully prepared but delivered with an intensity that seemed spontaneous, straight from his soul.

‘When we found him, Petrou was wearing - I hesitate to call it “clothing” - a bizarre costume composed of straps and belts and the like. It apparently had some sort of perverse erotic significance - his genitals were exposed - although I must say we found it difficult to make that association at the time. The effect was quite grotesque and made more so by the fact that a leather hood covered his head, so that at first we didn’t know who it was, hanging there.