Chelsea Mansions

THIRTY-EIGHT

‘So what is this all about?’ Julie said. ‘Everyone’s been so mysterious. They just said it was very urgent.’

A car had been waiting at St Pancras to pick her up from the Nottingham train and speed her to Queen Anne’s Gate, and she looked flustered and slightly disoriented, but not displeased at this unexpected attention.

‘Can you just tell me how you came to be in Nottingham, Julie?’

‘Well, when Toby sprung it on us that he was closing Chelsea Mansions and we didn’t have a job any more, I decided to go and stay with my sister for a while.’

‘When was this?’

‘The day before yesterday, Wednesday evening.’

‘What time, exactly?’

‘Um, about seven, dinner time.’

After Hadden-Vane’s suicide, Kathy thought, but before John had returned to the hotel.

‘Why was he closing the hotel?’

‘Because he’d got a good offer to sell, he said, and the buyers wanted a very quick settlement. He was ever so apologetic about the short notice, but he made up for it handsomely with our severance payout. Very generous he was. And so thoughtful. He bought Destiny two tickets for that Moroccan holiday she’d been going on about, and wanted to give me an overseas trip too, but I said I’d like to spend some time with my sister first. We had to pack up that night and leave first thing Thursday morning.’

‘What about the guests?’

‘Well, they’d all gone, all except Mr Greenslade, who’d returned unexpectedly from America.’

‘When did the others go?’

‘That same day, Wednesday. Toby had to compensate them too. Why, have there been complaints? Is Toby in trouble or something?’

‘He is in trouble, Julie, but not over that. You see, he’s admitted to us that he murdered Mr Moszynski.’

Julie’s jaw dropped, the whites of her eyes growing huge. ‘No! I don’t believe it.’

‘It’s true, I’m afraid. He was stopped from leaving the country on a plane with Deb, Garry and Jacko. They’re all in police custody now. Toby has been quite open about what he’s done.’

‘The others were going with him? Well! The army connection, of course. They were always close, those four.’

‘Tell me about your time working for Toby, Julie.’

‘I won’t say a word against him. He was always a perfect gentleman. I do know that Mr Moszynski provoked him something dreadful. He must have just snapped.’

She’d started at Chelsea Mansions five years ago, she explained, and described her life there. She had lost her home and been very depressed after a bad divorce when they took her in, and Toby and Deb had been a blessing for her.

‘I still can’t believe that he would kill Mr Moszynski. Are you sure he’s admitted it? He did get upset with them, but who wouldn’t, arrogant pigs that they were. Toby always tried to do the decent, civilised thing. Like, when that MP, Hadden-Vane, came visiting, he’d keep his driver waiting out there in the square for hours on end, and Toby would say, “Come on, Julie, let’s take the poor chap a cup of tea and a slice of your fresh-baked cake,” and we’d go out together and Toby would stay with him for a chat. That’s how considerate he was.’

‘Hadden-Vane’s driver?’

‘Yes, he died a couple of years ago. Can’t remember his name.’

‘Toby would probably pick up some gossip about the neighbours, I suppose?’

‘Oh yes, always came back with a titbit or two.’

‘Did Toby get to know any of the other staff next door?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Garry did a bit.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, he liked to go down the Anglesea with one of Mr Moszynski’s security men, Wayne. Poor Garry, is he in trouble too?’

‘We’ll have to see.’

‘Doesn’t say much, but he feels things. Very loyal to Toby. Devoted.’

‘Toby’s very proud of his army connections and his family, isn’t he?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s a long tradition. Those photos on his wall, the generations.’

‘Did you ever hear the American lady, Nancy Haynes, ask about them?’

‘The one who was murdered? Oh, I don’t know. She was certainly very friendly with Toby and Deb, very open and chatty. Her companion, the man, was quieter, didn’t say much.’

During the afternoon Brock was called out of his protracted interview with Toby to answer a phone call from Commander Sharpe.

‘Anything new, Brock?’

‘Not really, sir, no.’

‘I’m putting out a press statement. I’ll get a copy to you now to have a look at. Tell me if there’s anything you’re unhappy with.’

‘Right.’

‘And Sean Ardagh has been on the phone to me. They’re interested in those bones found in Beaumont’s luggage. Foreign Office are worried the Germans will be offended if his story is true and gets out. Ardagh wants us to hand them over to his people for testing. More secure, he says, and they have some new fancy equipment we don’t have. You don’t have any objections, do you?’

‘Our labs are perfectly capable…’

‘Of course, but I want to appear cooperative. I’ve told him yes. He’s sending someone over.’

When he hung up, Brock thought for a moment, then rang Sundeep Mehta. ‘Sundeep, have you tested that skull and bones we sent over yet?’

‘I’ve made a start, Brock, but I’ve a hundred other things to do.’

‘MI5 want to take them from us to carry out their own tests. They say they have better equipment.’

‘Really? First I’ve heard of it.’

‘They’re sending someone to the lab right now. Could you hold them off for long enough to finish your work?’

‘Not really. I had more tests scheduled later this afternoon. Is there a problem with MI5?’

‘I don’t know, Sundeep. I’m just naturally suspicious, you know me.’

‘I’ll do what I can.’

In another part of Queen Anne’s Gate, John was giving Kathy a detailed statement describing what had happened to him.

‘Are you sure you’re up to it, John?’ she asked. The large dressing had gone from his head, revealing three stitches and an area of inflammation on his temple. She peered at it. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Only when I theorise,’ he said.

‘Been doing much of that lately?’

‘A little. Toby’s lying, isn’t he?’

‘You think so?’

‘I believe he wrote that letter to The Times. Which would mean he planned it all days before.’

‘Yes, I pointed that out to Brock.’

He saw the expression on her face. ‘He didn’t buy it?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

John put a hand to his forehead and winced. ‘That’s what I mean. That’s when it hurts.’

‘You don’t have to prove anything to him, John.’

He shrugged. ‘Fancy a drink later?’

Late that evening, exhausted from the day’s interrogations, Brock sat at his desk nursing a whisky. It wasn’t the letter to The Times that was bothering him, but another anomaly. According to the phone record, Harry Peebles had made a call to Hadden-Vane’s mobile about an hour after Mikhail Moszynski was murdered, just as he had after Nancy Haynes was killed. But why would he do that, if he hadn’t killed Moszynski?

Brock called up the record of Bren’s interview with Wayne Everett on his screen, and began to go through it once again. When he’d finished he brought up the transcript of Kathy’s interview with Toby’s cook, Julie, that afternoon. Then he poured himself another Scotch.