The School of English Murder (16 page)

‘I wasn’t actually a diplomat. I worked in the Department of Conservation. Last year I was seconded to the FO to work on a conservation conference in Paris.’

‘Go on.’

‘And there was trouble over my use of the diplomatic bag. A real balls-aching fuss. And all over a bit of hash I sent a friend.’

‘And they brought in the police?’

‘Yes… Well… To cut a long story short, I’d got a few ounces of some really terrific Moroccan black. Very hard to get here. I didn’t want to run the risk of bringing it through customs, so I tried to send it by diplomatic bag. By a real stroke of bum luck, the day I sent it down to the post room at the Paris embassy was a day when they made one of their routine checks that no improper use was being made of the bag.’

‘That was certainly rough luck, Bob.’

Amiss could hear the doubt in Rich’s voice.

‘I’d gone back to London that same day so I got hauled up back in the department and of course I had to deny I knew what was in the parcel. Produced the usual line: I’d been given it by a girl I met at a party. And obviously my friend denied all knowledge of it or me. But the police were brought in and I had a bit of a hard time. They couldn’t prove anything so the case was dropped. I got a nasty turn when I realised yesterday who that pair were. Still, they were friendly enough. Maybe they really do believe you’re innocent until proved guilty.’

‘But why did you leave your job?’

‘It was made clear to me it would be wiser to resign. After all they could have disciplined me on the technicality of improperly using the diplomatic bag. So I got out before I was pushed and here I am.’

‘I’m glad you’ve got it off your chest, Bob. You needn’t have worried about the police. Funnily enough, Romford mentioned he knew you, but the young fellow broke in and quite rightly stopped him saying any more. Still, frankly it did make me wonder.’

‘I wouldn’t want you to think I’m a drug smuggler or anything. The stuff was only for me and my friends.’ He looked anxiously at Rich. ‘You’re not down on soft drugs, are you?’

‘No, Bob. I’m not down on soft drugs. I’m not a believer in the nanny state. Now come on, let’s go and join the BPs. And don’t worry any more. Your secret is safe with me.’

‘Personnel Department, please. Hello, I want to enquire about a past employee of yours who has applied for a job with me.’

‘What was his name and rank?’

‘Robert Amiss. Don’t know his rank.’

‘Well, was he clerical? Or scientific and professional? Or administrative?’ The voice was impatient.

‘He has an Arts degree I think.’

‘Hold on.’

It took only another five minutes for someone to be found who knew about Amiss. ‘Yes. We did have an employee of that name. Left in May.’

‘Why did he leave?’

‘He resigned. You’ll have to ask him the reason.’

‘Look, I have to check what he told me.’

‘Which was?’

‘That he left under a slight cloud.’

‘I won’t argue with that. Anything else you wish to know? No? Goodbye.’

The head of Personnel put down the receiver. What the devil was young Amiss up to, he wondered? The police superintendent had been very vague. And when would the young idiot get some sense and come back to the place where he belonged?

Rich was relieved that his fears about Amiss had not been realised. On the make he might be, but nothing wrong with that, and he was likeable: except for Gavs, he had been the only one to show any sympathy over Ned.

He rebuked himself for paranoia. After all, had Amiss been a police spy Romford wouldn’t have acknowledged him. And how absurd to think they would want to stake out the school anyway. No. He must watch himself and not let the stress get to him. His job was to go on running his successful business as well as ever.

He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes more before Jenn brought his group down for tea. He signed a few cheques for the part-timers, made two routine phone calls and was interrupted by Galina.

‘What are you doing out of class?’

‘I tell Bob I have important call. I wish to speak with you, Reech. I wish another picnic Sunday.’

Rich came close to exploding. Were there absolutely no limits to the demands of this horrible bitch?

‘I’m sorry, Galina, but no. My mother—’

‘Stop about your mother, Reech. Look.’ She took from her handbag a diamond tie-pin. ‘You like this?’ She held it out.

Christ, he thought, it must be worth thousands. ‘It’s very nice, Galina.’

‘A picnic, Reech?’

Greed fought with self-disgust and won. Hating himself, Rich put out his hand. Galina smiled. ‘Good. I am pleased. But there is a condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘I wish Bob at the picnic’

‘I can’t force him to come, Galina.’

‘You are clever. You will do it.’

And putting the tie-pin back in her bag, she went back to join her class.

Milton put the phone down.

‘I think we’re just about ready to start the interviews, Ellis. You’ve done a first-rate job on the reconstruction of the party. We just need to check it with the remaining people.’

‘Any news from Central, sir?’

‘I’m told Layton is making excellent progress. Which reminds me. Now that you’re a sergeant, there’s a vacancy for a DC with us. Would your friend Layton be interested?’

‘I’m positive he’d jump at it, sir. Doesn’t get a lot of encouragement where he is.’

‘Now there’s no guarantee he’d get it, but if he wants it he’d be in with a strong chance. I’m impressed by his dedication. Too many coppers look for opportunities to up the solved crime rate rather than insisting on making the figures worse because they are concerned with truth. I leave it to you. Speak to him if you think it a good idea.’

Pooley’s heart was full. ‘Oh, sir,’ was all he could say.

Milton looked at him in momentary alarm. This lad is too devoted, he said to himself. He watched Pooley as he returned to his labours and felt sad that one could inspire hero worship just by giving someone junior a bit of scope. ‘Right, Ellis. Off we go. Let’s be brave. Find Jenn and ask her to fetch the contessa. And may the Lord have mercy on our souls.’

21

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Somewhat to Pooley’s disappointment, Galina gave her evidence crisply.

‘Surprisingly straightforward,’ mused Milton. ‘She seemed preoccupied. Still trying to think of a way of getting her hands on Robert, perhaps.’ He sneezed. ‘Dreadful pong in here, Ellis. She certainly puts on enough perfume.’

‘It’s not just perfume, sir.’ Pooley prided himself on his discriminating sense of smell. ‘It’s the additional smells from all those cosmetics, not to speak of the hair spray.’

‘Well, I hope our next client doesn’t think we’re generating them. Ask for Ahmed, Ellis, will you?’

It was an unwise move, for Ahmed also moved in a cloud of perfume — one of the macho brands, the sufferers assumed. He confirmed having had a brief conversation with Ned. ‘He is old,’ he said helpfully.

‘What did you talk about?’

‘My family. I tell him I am brince.’ He waved his hand in a lordly fashion and the stones glittered in the evening sunlight.

‘Brince?’ Milton was momentarily mystified. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon. You are a prince?’

‘I am.’ Ahmed nodded. ‘I am brince of the royal house of Saud. Some trouble — the embassy come.’

Milton felt an urge to congratulate him on his good fortune. Instead he assumed an expression of great gravitas. ‘There is no trouble, sir. We simply wish your help in finding out who put alcohol in Mr Nurse’s drink.’

Ahmed gave a massive shrug. ‘Why? He is dead. Insh’allah.’

‘This is how we do things in this country,’ said Milton, rather stiffly. He observed that Ahmed was scarcely listening, but because his eyes seemed focused in opposite directions, he could not detect whether he was looking at him either.

‘Sir,’ he said more loudly, ‘I must ask you did you see anyone put any liquid into Mr Nurse’s drink?’ Ahmed shook his head. ‘Did you see anyone put any liquid into the blue and white jug?’

‘No. Now I go.’ He jumped up and began to put on the red leather jacket he had brought in with him.

‘Wait please, sir.’

‘I go. I am sick. I see doctor.’

‘Very well, sir. But I may need to see you again.’

Ahmed’s indifference was clear. ‘Insh’allah,’ he said, and slouched out of the room.

‘What a prick!’ said Milton.

Pooley looked at him in slight surprise. Then he smiled. ‘Don’t you mean “brick”, sir? Shall I call the next one?’

Milton felt pleased. Pooley was learning to relax with him at last.

By the time Milton and Pooley finished interviewing Amiss’s group, they were able to put together a reasonably full account of Ned Nurse’s last few hours. He had finished prefab duties at five and gone to his and Rich’s office to mess around with some papers. Jenn had laid out all the alcoholic drinks for the party by four forty-five, but had not brought in the mixers and soft drinks until just before five. Most of the drinks were on the table beside the window, which was referred to as the bar. Since the drinks were cocktails, they had to be ordered at the bar, not as usual left for people to help themselves. So the only drinks on the table at the other end of the room were soft.

Jenn stated that just before five she had taken from the refrigerator two unopened cartons of mango and kiwi juice and had decanted them into a large blue and white pottery jug that was always used for this purpose.

Three people confirmed that Ned had come in about five thirty and had helped himself from this jug; two of them had understood him to say he had never tasted anything like it before.

Everyone who had noticed Ned agreed that he had never moved from the far end of the room. That was typical, Cath and Jenn had confirmed. He was very shy of the BPs and tended to wait for them to approach him rather than initiating contact. The concern of the police was to eliminate anyone who was never near enough to the jug or Ned’s glass to spike his drink.

Gavs and his group had been out for the whole day in Oxford, so there were only fifteen students at the party. Fabrice and Marcello, the volunteer cocktail-makers, had gone straight to the bar as soon as they arrived in the lounge and had stayed at it until the end.

Of the remaining thirteen, there were five who would swear that they had been together from the very beginning, had stuck together throughout and never moved from the window area. Neither had Cath, who was also making cocktails.

Davina had come in with Rich and had then latched on to Amiss. She had never been alone between five and seven.

Rich had been seen greeting Ned when he arrived at about five thirty, but immediately afterwards had gone to the other end of the room and not left it until after Ned’s departure. According to the four people who saw them together, for him to have administered the alcohol would have been a mighty feat of prestidigitation.

That left eight possibles among the students: Ahmed, Galina, Gunther, Karl, Alessandro, Simone and Mr Yamaguchi. Among the staff there was only Jenn.

There was, of course, the slight possibility that someone had given Ned alcohol before or after the party, but it was so remote that Milton decided to ignore it. This was not the time to worry about such long shots.

‘OK, Ellis, let’s pack it in for tonight. The school’s shut tomorrow morning, and I think we’d better not come back until Friday. Until then, you sort out the paperwork while I talk to Interpol and Central and clear a bit of other work. If Layton has lined up any interviews relating to Wally Armstrong, we’ll start them in the afternoon.’

‘Sorry, sir, but weren’t you going to see Rich Rogers?’

‘I want a bit more information on his finances first, and I really don’t want to bother him on the day of the funeral.’

They gathered up their papers. ‘I’m anxious to talk to Robert about how things went with Rich,’ said Milton, ‘but I daren’t call him in again. Have you any idea what he’s up to tonight?’

‘Jenn mentioned that Gunther’s taking them gambling.’

‘Robert’s appetite for pleasure seems insatiable,’ said Milton. He shook his head. ‘Poor devil. I hope he’ll be able to get some sleep at the weekend.’

‘Robert!’ Rich’s tone was so friendly that Amiss decided the danger was over.

‘Yes, Rich.’

‘Do me a favour, old love?’

‘Of course.’

‘Help me out on Sunday with an extra activity? I really need a man to balance the numbers and Gavs did it last weekend.’

‘The whole of Sunday?’

‘Best part of it, I’m afraid.’ Rich reflected on what Galina was requiring of Bob and added, ‘In fact, I’d write off the afternoon and evening. Sorry, but that’s the way it goes.’

Amiss would have tried to get out of it, but he felt so anxious to get back on easy terms with Rich that he was prepared to put himself out considerably.

‘OK. What’s it involve?’

‘A picnic here at lunchtime.’

Amiss was surprised at the modesty of this activity. Then he shrugged. Whatever turned them on.

‘Good-morning, Robert. This is Jim. How are you feeling?’

‘Atrabilious.’

‘I don’t know what the word means, but it certainly sounds unpleasant.’

‘It means full of bile, which is about what I am mentally and physically at the moment. I found the spectacle of very rich people frantically scrabbling to get richer very depressing and drank too much to compensate. Puts me in the right mood for a funeral, I suppose. How are you? How’s it going?’

They exchanged news. ‘You did well with Rich. Congratulations.’

‘Thanks. About Ahmed by the way. He really did think he’s sick. He’s gone off to see the school’s tame doctor. Gavs tells me his speciality is giving hypochondriacs what they want.’

‘When can we meet, Robert?’

‘This evening for a quick drink? Then I’ve got to go home and sleep.’

‘OK. Where’s safe from civil servants, police, BPs and whoever else I’ve forgotten?’

Amiss nominated a pub in Pimlico, off the beaten track.