Wednesday started
early for Gary, who made breakfast for all comers, and only a little later for
Cleo, who wanted to talk to him about the day’s plans after it had been too
late to discuss things in detail the previous evening.
The nameless corpse
had been delivered from the hospital. They always did that with an accompanying
note stating that they suspected foul play. That got rid of the unwanted dead
without it appearing like a rejection.
The tramps in the
nearby park had been rounded up and came reluctantly one after another to
identify the dead person, who – wait for it - had turned out to be a woman
dressed as a man when Chris stripped it of the numerous layers of clothing. It
was safer sleeping rough that way, he knew and it wasn’t the first time he had
come across the predicament of being a woman on the road. No one owned up to
knowing the person other than by sight.
***
There wasn’t much time
to discuss the coming day, but Cleo did remind Gary that Jet Black was
aggressive and probably capable of any felony they threw at him. From what she
had heard about him, she did not believe that he could be innocent.
At HQ, Gary found
Nigel staring at an onscreen photo of the dead tramp that had been forwarded to
him by Ned.
“I’ve seen her before,”
he said.
“It’s Laura Finch,”
said Gary.
“It can’t be. She’s
been dead for years.”
“I know that. It’s one
of the illegitimate half-siblings I believe Laura had in abundance,” said Gary.
“I’ll look it up,”
said Nigel. “Those guys in the lab will be happy to put a name on the toe-tag. There
are already a couple of anonymous characters down there.”
“You could look up the
Finch case. I think there are some names in there of women we did not get in
touch with. If I remember rightly, they all rhymed with Laura who was the first
born and probably the only legitimate Finch offspring. And you could talk to
Cleo about it. She will be intrigued and want to follow it up, so you’d be relieved of
that chore.”
“That’s a good idea,
Chief.”
“It’s Gary, and never mind
that Finch look-alike now. Find out a bit more about ‘our’ Daphne, Nigel. She
is probably the Daphne in the appointment book kept by Gibbons and she might
know more than she has told us so it would be good if we were a step or two
ahead. And that goes for Jet Black. I want to see both of them here before the
day is out.”
“It’s Greg’ case,”
said Nigel. “I hope he doesn’t mind you intervening.
“Just follow those
guys up and keep quiet about it for a bit.”
“OK, Boss!”
“It’s still Gary. And our
curiosity also applies to the two houseboys kept by Fish. They are shrouded in
mystery.”
“Ivan and Olaf?”
“That#s them. I’ll see
them this morning.”
“You won’t. They’ve
done a bunk.”
“How do you know that?”
“They’re on the list
of suspects you want to talk to, Gary. I tried to get them on your schedule.”
“I think I’m losing my
marbles,” said Gary. “Did you say bunk?”
“Do I have to agree or
disagree,” said Nigel, “…about the marbles, I mean.”
***
The phone rang. It was
Greg with perfect timing for a change.
“Do you want to see
Olaf and Ivan now?” he asked.
“They’ve gone,” said
Gary.
“Who told you that?”
“Nigel.”
“He wasn’t listening
to me, Gary.”
“where are they then?”
“They’re in arrest
cells.”
“Nigel said they’d
done a bunk.”
“As I said, he wasn’t
listening properly. I said they had tried to do a bunk but were arrested by the
patrol squad on duty watching the house.”
“Brilliant,” said
Gary, looking daggers at Nigel, who had heard the dialogue over the speaker.
“It’s my case, Gary. I
have to make sure my suspects are taken care of. There’s been a guard on the
house ever since Fish was killed.”
“You’re right, Greg. I
have absolute confidence in you. Can I join you for the questionings?”
“You’re the boss,
Gary. I’ll want you to do the questioning. No one gets better results.”
“Thanks for that, but I’m
thinking of going back on the beat. I’m not cut out for the high-flying job of
sitting around being a superintendent. I need action.”
“Be here just before
11 a.m. – and please ask questions!”
***
“You aren’t serious,
are you, Gary? I’ve just got comfortable up here,” Nigel said. It had taken him
a long time to be prised from the old office and set up house on the third
floor in an office all of his own.
“I don’t suppose I am.
I can hardly fire myself, can I?”
“And you’ll be fine
when you get used to the climate up here,” said Nigel.
“I’ve been up here six
months already. The climate is not going get any more congenial.”
“It will. Henry’s
retiring soon,” said Nigel. “You’d be less bored if you took over his job, and
the climate would definitely improve.”
“Who says I’m bored?”
“I do. All those doodles on your note-pad give
you away.”
“They’re my
thought-processes, Nigel.”
“Really? All those
twirls, noughts and crosses, joined-up dots and one-stroke fish and birds?”
“Talking of food, let’s
get a bagel in the canteen,” said Gary. “I was so busy feeding the five
thousand this morning that I forgot to feed myself.”
***
Greg had decided to
interview Olaf and Ivan together. He thought they had probably decided what
they would say, expecting to be questioned separately, but the trick of making
them explain themselves as a team would be disconcerting for both. Neither of
them had criminal records, but both were employed in jobs they had never done
before, working for a boss whose activities they must surely have known about.
Ivan called himself a barman, but his main task was to make sure the wrong
people did not get into the Fish establishment.
The villa was large
and pompous. It was set in its own grounds with a double door sporting the
obligatory gargoyle knocker several marble steps above ground level. It had not
yet been possible to trace the origins of the large sum that had financed the
villa. Greg had tried. Who owned the villa now Ronnie Fish was dead? Fish’s
lawyer would not be cooperative. It would take a court of law to force him to
reveal what he knew, Greg thought..
Gary and Nigel
anticipated a lively questioning session in Greg’s office.
“Before the two
lackeys arrive, can you get the reports on Maureen Bishop’s injuries from her visit
to Fish’s house, please, Nigel?” said Gary.
“No problem,” said
Nigel.
“Ivan – what’s his
surname, Nigel? – probably killed her, but we have no concrete evidence. He’ll
have to admit it.”
“Some hope,” said
Nigel. “Mr Davis without an ‘e’ is not likely to admit to anything.”
“What’s Olaf’s last
name?”
“I wrote it down
somewhere and it’ll be in the reports, but those two always went by their first
names.”
“Find out, please.”
Nigel said he could
not pronounce the surname and that was probably why he’d forgotten it. He
looked in his mobile phone. Sure enough, he had made a note of it.
“Kuznetsov,” he
pronounced slowly. “No wonder he sticks to Olaf.“
“I will, too,” said
Gary.
***
Greg had prepared the
setting. Olaf and Ivan were brought in accompanied by security officers.
“We’ll use your first
names, gentlemen,” said Gary.
“We’ll use yours
then,” said Olaf.
“Rudeness won’t help
you,” said Greg. “You’re in a damn deep hole.”
“What are you accusing
me of, Greg?” said Olaf.
“Let’s start with the
cocktails you used to drug women prior to abuse by paying guests at the house.”
“Prove it!”
“There’s also the
small matter of the cocktail of drugs Maureen Bishop was given at the hospital
combined with the nerve drug that was stabbed into her shoulder,” said Gary.
“Prove it, Gary!” Ivan
said.
“Don’t you want to
admit it and save us further bother, Ivan?” said Greg.
“You haven’t got any
proof of anything because it’s all a fiction,” said Olaf.
“Actually, we even
have clips of Ivan’s trailing activity on the street last Sunday,” said Nigel.
“Come off it, Nig. Those
cameras were broken.
“Not all of them, Darling,”
Nigel replied.
“For the record, I
bumped into Ronnie quite by accident. I did not know he was being released,”
said Ivan.
“Tell that to the
marines,” said Gary. “There was a bug in a pocket of his jacket. We didn’t put
it there, so you must have. Amazing that he did not find it.”
“Why would I do that?”
said Ivan, and Olaf looked perturbed.
“You know why. There
must have been real trouble for you to have treated your employer to that nerve
drug and a slug in the back.”
“I don’t know what
you’re talking about,” said Ivan.
“And you hired Daphne
Lewis to help you, didn’t you?” said Nigel.
“I don’t know any
Daphne Lewis, Sweetheart,” Ivan said mockingly.
“We have movie clips
of her, too,” said Greg. “You held her hostage at the house for a week”
“I didn’t do that, “
said Olaf and Igor simultaneously.
“You two jerks made it
possible,” said Gary.
“Watch your language!”
said Greg.
Nigel looked surprised.
He had been bluffin. What clips was Gary referring to?
“So where were you
planning to run to?” said Gary.
“Nowhere.”
“But you were caught leaving
the Fish house carrying backpacks,” Gary shouted, and Nigel looked astonished.
“No need to shout,”
said Ivan. “I’m not deaf.”
“Show these guys the
movie clips,” Gary shouted to Nigel before taking him aside.
“Darling and
Sweettheart seem to have a secret,” said Ivan.
“Shut up!” aid Greg.
“But we haven’t got
any clips,” Nigel whispered to Gary..
“Why not?” Gary
replied through his teeth..
Greg realized that
something was going wrong. He told the guards to take the two suspects back to
their arrest cells. They did not need to witness the growing confusion in his
office.
“Why did you do that?”
Gary reproached. “We were nearly there.”
“We weren’t nearly
there, Gary,” said Nigel. “There are no clips of those men committing murder.”
“What?”
“The cameras that could
have filmed them – if there was anything to film - were not working,” said
Nigel.
“Did you know that,
Greg?” said Gary. “Those guys did, didn’t they?”
“Who’s responsible?”
“I hate to say this,”
said Greg. “But you are, aren’t you?”
There was a long
silence. Nigel looked aghast.
Gary turned on Greg.
“I think you’re wrong,
Greg. You are head of the homicide squad now. Those cameras are your
responsibility,” he spat.
“So why didn’t I know
about the breakdown until this morning?” said Greg.
“Ask yourself that.
I’m going to my office,” said Gary.
Left alone with Nigel,
Greg wondered about what he had just witnessed.
“Is he torn between
two women?” said Greg. “I heard rumours…”
“They are not true,
Greg,” said Nigel. “I couldn’t get a word in just now Saying that you are in
charge of the cameras is also incorrect. Gisela is responsible for those
cameras. They were originally installed to control the traffic whizzing down
Thumpton Hill and then everyone else wanted a look in. Crowd surveillance came
to Middlethumpton as an afterthought.”
“So why did he stalk
off in a huff?”
“This case is getting
on his nerves.”
“It’s getting on all
our nerves, but I’m coping without a panic attack,” said Greg. “I know those
guys are guilty of crimes we can get them for, but I can’t start water-boarding
them for confessions of felonies they may not be guilty of.”
“I’ll go and see about
Gary. He’s not himself.”
“You can say that
again.”
“A couple of years
ago, Gary had a stay at a clinic. He was treated for burnout and he told me
then that the doctor had told him to get his life order and find a job he liked.
Maybe that burnout stuff has come back to haunt him.”
“Get Cleo here. We’ll
have to do something, Nigel. We can’t have cops having nervous breakdowns in
front of suspects and Cleo knows more about Gary than anyone else does.”
“Leave it to me,
Greg.”
“You’re a pal.”
“I’ll let you know
what’s going to happen next as soon as I know myself,” said Nigel. “It’s a pity
Mia wasn’t here. I don’t think Gary would have behaved that way if she had
been.”
“Wouldn’t he?”
“He’s not having an
affair with her, but he likes her a lot," said Nigel. "He would be
afraid of losing her respect.”
“That makes me wonder
more about his feelings for her.”
“Cleo knows Mia is just
a good colleague, Greg.”
“That’s often how an
affair starts,” said Greg.
“I think he’s still in
shock after his villa burnt down,” said Nigel.
“I would be, too, if I
had a houseful of kids to feed and was in a job I hated.”
I’ll talk to him now,”
said Nigel. “I’m not sure why, but he listens to me.”
***
Nigel was deep in thought
as he climbed the stairs to the third floor of HQ. He had no idea how he would
find Gary, or even if was still there to find.
Nigel thought Gary had too
delicate a mental constitution for his job, but had hoped he would take on the
attitude of his predecessor. Roger Stone had taken care of things, but was
never emotionally involved with the cases. Roger had delegated as much as
possible and kept up his own routine of two mornings and one afternoon a week
on the golf course. It had been entirely out of character for him to have an
affair with a go-getting ambitious young policewoman who had been one of Gary’s
girlfriends before Cleo came along, or at least, long before Gary and Cleo were
known to be an item.
Roger had endured a
marriage in which his wife had called the tune until that happened, and the
affair sealed the fate of that policewoman, since Roger’s wife was possessive
of a marriage in which she took the liberties while he towed the line of
respectability.
Cleo had married someone she
was in tune with but did not love and vainly attempted to shake of the emotions
Gary woke in her. The only photo on Gary’s desk was of Cleo, who had once forced
an estrangement. It was that estrangement that had been the underlying cause of
Gary’s burnout.
No wonder Nigel was deep in
thought. He did not think Mia, though nice, could hold a candle to Cleo, and it
was definitely not the moment for Gary to fall into some sort of neurosis as a
kind of consolation for his frustration in the job of superintendent that he
had never really wanted.
Nigel was relieved to see
Gary tapping away at his laptop, but rather less relieved when he saw that his
boss was taking an IQ test on-line.
“I just wanted to see if I
really have lost my marbles,” Gary explained, hoping Nigel would think he was
joking.
“I’ll start to think you
have if you play around with that fake IQ test any longer. You’re bound to fail
and then they’ll try and make you buy something brain-healing.”
“It sounds as if you’ve
tried it,” said Gary.
“I haven’t. Well, just once
with disastrous results. My IQ is apparently comparable with that of a chimp.”
“You’re too modest, Nigel.
You can’t have been trying very hard. I’m really trying to work out why I
reacted like I did this morning,” said Gary.
“And I’m trying to work out
why you had to react at all when you put Greg in charge of the case and it’s up
to him to make progress before you get involved.”
“That’s precisely what I’m
telling myself.”
“Speaking as an ongoing
detective rather than your personal assistant, I would say that we have not
reached out to all the persons who might be involved in this mess.”
“Don’t get highfalutin,
Nigel. Do you think we have neglected someone?”
“Don’t YOU get uppity about
it, Gary. I’m trying to help.”
“It won’t help if we fall
out,” said Gary.
“Why are you losing your
temper with me then?”
“I’m not losing my temper!”
Gary shouted.
Nigel whistled.
“I’ll make us some coffee.
I need time to think about that.”
“Wait a minute, Nigel. Are
you suggesting that someone outside the syndicate could be responsible for some
of the mess?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it?”
said Nigel. “We need to look at someone we decided was a non-starter.”
“Have you decided who?”
“Yes,” said Nigel. “A
couple of characters come to mind.”
“Are you going to tell me
who they are?”
“Let me drive you home
first,” said Nigel. “I’d like Cleo to hear my theories.”
“Now you have got me
interested,” said Gary. “Your car or mine?”
“Yours, but I’ll drive. I
see you’ve been at the scotch bottle.”
“Only a dram, Nigel.”
“A dram too many!”
No comments:
Post a Comment