Body Line

ELEVEN

Penguin Gavotte

Frith was looking troubled and anxious, but as soon as Slider appeared he chose indignant as his motif du jour.

‘Look, what the hell’s going on? I’ve got a business to run. I can’t keep running back and forth to Shepherd’s Bush. What is it you want that’s so urgent?’

Slider tried direct for his. ‘Your fingerprints.’

Frith’s hairline slid back. ‘What? You’re joking! My fingerprints? For Christ’s sake, you can’t really think I had anything to do with David’s death. Why on earth would I kill him?’

‘You didn’t like him,’ Atherton answered over Slider’s shoulder.

Frith only looked angrier. ‘What was there to like? He was a smarmy womanizer who made Amanda’s life miserable, but it’s murder we’re talking about. You don’t just murder someone because you don’t like them. Ordinary people don’t kill other people anyway. What world are you people living in? I wouldn’t murder my worst enemy, let alone—’ He ran a distracted hand backwards through his hair. ‘I mean, come on! This is not the Wild West.’

‘We want your fingerprints in order to eliminate you from our enquiries,’ Slider said, cutting through the whirlwind.

‘Oh.’ Frith jolted like a man who has gone up the step that isn’t there. He took a beat to think, and then came back with a revival of resentment. ‘I don’t understand why you should ever have considered me anyway. What did I ever do to have the police on my back for this preposterous notion?’

Preposterous. Slider liked it. A bit of hedgication never done no one no ’arm, he thought. ‘There were some superficial reasons for taking you into consideration,’ he said, the still, small voice of calm. ‘At the beginning of an investigation like this we have to take the broadest view and gradually whittle it down. I’m sorry you have been inconvenienced, but your fingerprints should settle the matter and we won’t need to bother you again.’

‘I’ve a good mind to refuse,’ Frith said sulkily. ‘The idea that you should ever have considered me . . . What were these “superficial reasons”?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t go into that at present.’

‘And you’ve caused me no end of trouble. People in Sarratt are looking at me sideways, I have three cancellations, and – what the hell did you say to Amanda? She’s been giving me the silent treatment, looking at me as if—’ Something occurred to him. ‘You didn’t tell her about Sue?’

‘No,’ said Slider. ‘We haven’t spoken to her since you last came in. But before that we had asked her to confirm what time you left in the morning on Monday, because you had told your employees you were working from home and then going to an appointment.’

‘You told her that? Oh God!’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘No wonder she’s so frosty with me,’ he said, muffled. ‘What a mess!’

Slider was interested. ‘You mean she hasn’t spoken to you about that? About your whereabouts on Monday?’

Frith shook his head. ‘Biding her time,’ he mourned. ‘She’ll hold back until she’s ready, and then pounce.’ He emerged from his hands and stared gloomily at Slider. ‘Oh well, since you’ve already ruined my life, you might as well have my fingerprints and get it over with.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Slider said. ‘It won’t take a minute. If you’d come this way, please.’

Frith got up and followed him. ‘It wasn’t me, you know,’ he said. ‘I’m the last person. I’ve shot plenty of birds in my time. I even had a go at shooting wild pig when I was over for the Atlanta Olympics. But I could never shoot a human being – not deliberately.’

‘That’s interesting. I didn’t know you were familiar with firearms,’ Slider said.

‘Oh God! Now what? You’re not going to—?’

‘Don’t worry. As a matter of fact I think that if you had killed David Rogers in cold blood, you would have supplied yourself with a better alibi.’

‘In cold blood? You mean—?’

‘It was planned, yes.’

Frith was silent as they walked down the corridor to the processing area. As they turned in at the door, he said, ‘You know, I’m almost sorry for him now. David. He was a selfish bastard, but he didn’t deserve that.’

‘The thing that intrigues me,’ Slider said as they went back upstairs, ‘is why Frith and Sturgess haven’t discussed this business.’

‘He wouldn’t discuss his dodgy alibi with her,’ Atherton said. ‘It would mean revealing that he had a mistress.’

‘True, but why hasn’t she tackled him about it?’

‘He said she’s giving him the cold shoulder.’

‘But don’t you think that’s uncharacteristically indirect?’

‘Too many long words.’

‘Wouldn’t it be more like her to jump on him as soon as he comes in and shout, “Where the hell were you on Monday?”’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to know,’ Atherton said after a moment’s thought.

‘Or maybe,’ Slider said slowly, ‘she’s happy enough to have us chasing after him, knowing it’ll get us nowhere.’

‘We’ll never know,’ said Atherton, thinking that was an uncharacteristically long line in supposing from his boss. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll want to tell her we’ve fingerprinted him, for the same reason – it’d open up the whole “where were you” debate. So they’ll tiptoe round each other on the thin ice, saying nothing and darting frosty looks, in a sort of hostile penguin gavotte.’

Slider turned his head, and blinked. ‘That conjures up quite an image.’

‘It was meant to,’ said Atherton. ‘It’s called metaphor.’

‘Come to think of it, there is something penguin-like about Sturgess, with that long neck and long nose.’

‘Penguins don’t have long noses. What are you doing tonight?’

‘Beaks, then. Nothing. Joanna’s home. Why? Do you and Emily want to come over?’

‘Is that an invitation?’

‘Why do you need inviting? You never did before.’

‘Ah, but you’re a family man now. It’s different,’ Atherton said, and Slider realized, with just a hint of wistfulness, that it was.

‘Hello, is that Miss Connolly. Detective Connolly? I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you.’

‘This is Rita Connolly. How can I help you?’

‘It’s Cat here – Cat Aude. Um, I’ve got something – I don’t know if you want it. I don’t know if it’s important. But I thought – well, you know, the investigation and everything, I thought you might be wondering where it is. So I thought—’

‘What are we talking about here?’ Connolly cut through the babble. ‘What’ve you got?’

‘His mobile. David’s mobile.’

‘We’ve that already,’ Connolly said. ‘It was in his jacket pocket in the dressing-room.’

‘No, I’ve got it,’ Aude said confidently. ‘See, like I told you, when I ran back in the bedroom, after I realized what’s happened, I was gonna phone the police, and his mobile was there on the bedside table, and I grabbed it, but then the man started coming upstairs and I had to get away, and I dropped it into my pocket, and that’s where it’s been all the time. That bathrobe, you know, the one David lends me when I’m at his place – that’s what I was wearing, and I took it off in the hospital and they put it in a plastic bag, and I took it home with me – well, that policewoman brought me clothes from home. And I’ve never taken it out of the bag since. But now I’ve come home again and I had to do some washing—’

‘Wait-wait-wait – you’re back home? In Putney?’

‘Yeah, well, it was getting on me nerves being at me mum’s. I mean, I’d got nothing to do, and no money, and me mum’s, like, going on and on at me about David and how I ought to date a man of my own age so I’ve got some chance of getting married and giving her grandchildren – she goes on and on about grandchildren. It’s like an obsession with her. Honestly—’

‘But you were there for your own safety,’ Connolly pointed out. ‘Could you not put up with it a bit longer? Wait’ll we catch your man?’

‘No, I can’t stick it. You don’t know what she’s like. And I have to go to work. I’ve got rent to pay and everything. You said on the telly that I didn’t see his face so he’s got no reason to come after me.’

‘Well, I can’t make you stay away, but I strongly recommend—’

‘Oh, I’ll be all right. But the thing is, do you want this mobile? Cos I could drop it on my way to work tonight. I go more or less right past.’

‘You’re going back to Jiffies?’

‘I have to. I need the money. And some of the customers have been asking for me. As an entertainer, I have a responsibility to my audience.’

Gak, thought Connolly. But she said, ‘You be careful. And about this mobile – are you sure it’s David’s? Because I told you we found that in his pocket.’

‘Well, he must have had two,’ Aude said certainly, ‘because there it was on his bedside table and it’s not mine.’

‘Right, so, we’d better have it.’

‘And I won’t get into trouble for not bringing it before? Only, I’d forgotten all about it.’

‘Very natural, in the circumstances. No, you won’t get into trouble.’

‘If she’s not worried, it’s not our business to worry for her,’ Slider said.

‘No, sir, but she’s a bit of a gom, for all her thinking she’s so sophisticated. I just feel nervous for her.’

‘We can’t force her to stay in Guildford,’ he pointed out. ‘And I don’t really think there’s any danger. We made it clear she couldn’t identify the killer. What about this mobile?’

‘Like she says, your man must’ve had two.’ She handed it over. ‘It wasn’t switched off so the battery’s run down. Have to charge it up before it’ll work.’

‘There’s a selection of chargers in the CID room. Put it straight on, then we can have a look at last number redial.’

‘Yes, sir. But it occurs to me that no one could’ve rung it this week gone, or she’d surely have heard it ringing.’

‘His death was announced in the papers,’ Slider pointed out.

‘But his name wasn’t given until Tuesday,’ Connolly countered. ‘If anyone’d rung it Monday, there it was on a chair in the hospital room. And even after Tuesday, not everyone’d’ve known right off he was dead. Some people don’t read the papers, and it’d take time for word to get about.’

‘What’s your point?’

‘I’m not sure I have one,’ Connolly said with a disarming smile. ‘It just struck me as weird.’

‘I’ll take it under advisement,’ Slider said gravely.

Many had been the brainstorming session, generally at Atherton’s place, with him popping in and out of the kitchen, doing magic with a few ingredients, the Van Gogh of the limited palette, while Slider, and later Joanna, and later still Emily as well, sat by the fire inhaling large G&Ts for the better stimulation of thought. It wasn’t the same at Slider’s new house – couldn’t be. The kitchen was too far from the sitting-room, for one thing. And there were no cats. Slider made the G&Ts just as large in the hope of getting back some of the old atmosphere. But with Atherton corralled in the kitchen, with Dad as skivvy (Slider had held his breath – Atherton had split up with his previous girlfriend Sue partly over culinary differences – but Dad was the soul of tact and an intuitive helper) the conversation had to be social rather than work-related until the starter had been eaten (potted shrimps with ciabatta toast) and they were all settled round the ten-pound table with the main course. It was a tomato, mushroom and goat’s cheese tart with baby new potatoes and broccoli.

Dad was very impressed with it. ‘It didn’t take him any time at all to make it,’ he marvelled. ‘I could do that myself for you and Joanna if you needed a quick supper. Put it together in five minutes—’

‘I cheated,’ Atherton said. ‘Used bought pastry.’

‘How do you live with yourself?’ said Slider.

‘—and fifteen minutes in the oven,’ Dad went on. ‘All done while the potatoes are cooking.’

‘Peruvian,’ Atherton disparaged them. ‘No taste, but they’re quick. Can’t wait for the Jersey Royals to come in!’

‘Ah, now you’re talking,’ Dad said with approval. ‘Can’t beat the taste of a Jersey Royal – and a lovely bit of English asparagus with it. Bit of melted butter for both, and you’ve got a supper fit for a king.’

‘How long has this been going on?’ Emily stage-whispered at Joanna, with an amazed look.

‘What, Fanny and Johnny here? I don’t know.’

‘I feel completely de trop.’

‘Whatever you do, don’t say the pastry’s good.’

‘Seems all right to me.’

‘What did I just tell you?’ She bared her teeth in a rictus smile at Atherton. ‘Terrible pastry, this ready-made stuff,’ she said loudly. ‘Wish you’d had time to make your own.’

‘You two are mad,’ Atherton said elegantly. ‘I’ll talk to Bill. What about this mobile phone business?’

‘It’s a bit rum,’ Slider said. ‘Number redial lists the last five numbers dialled, and they’re all the same. And there’s only one number in the memory.’

‘The same one,’ Joanna hazarded.

‘And 1471 gives the same number again.’

‘So the conclusion is that, as he had another mobile as well, this one was a special one for contact with one person only,’ Emily said. Slider nodded. ‘Which sounds a bit criminal.’

‘Like on The Wire,’ Joanna said. ‘The drug dealers. But if he only rang one number on it, why did he put it in the memory?’

‘Because he was a dipstick,’ Atherton said.

‘I imagine he put it in at the beginning before he memorized it and forgot to take it out,’ Slider said. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway, because the target phone has been switched off – probably thrown away or destroyed by now – so we can’t use it to trace whoever he was phoning. But it does make it look as though his new job was something on the shady side.’

‘Can’t you trace them from the number?’ Joanna asked.

‘It’s a pay-as-you-go. Bought from a shop in the St George’s mall in Harrow. Purchaser paid cash and gave a false name and address. We could take our photo, such as it is, of the suspect round there and see if anyone by some miracle remembers him, but it wouldn’t help because they wouldn’t know who he was or where he lived. So the phone is a dead end. All it does is confirm Aude’s story that Rogers made a call from his dressing-room that morning, which we thought before was impossible because there wasn’t one logged on his other mobile. But beyond that . . .’ He shook his head. ‘It did occur to me to wonder, however, whether that was what the killer was searching for,’ he added. ‘He looked in drawers, but didn’t turf out the contents; and he didn’t search downstairs. Which suggests he was looking for something specific and had an idea where it might be. People don’t bury their mobiles deep under things in drawers. And he’d spoken on it already that morning, before the killer came round.’

‘It was probably the killer he spoke to,’ Atherton said. ‘Or the killer’s boss, if he was a hired hand.’

‘If you can’t trace the phone back, why would he worry about it?’ Emily asked. ‘He could just switch his own off or throw it away and that would be that.’

‘I suspect,’ Slider said, ‘because it wasn’t just a two-way thing. I suspect there were other people using the same link, and if he couldn’t get Rogers’s back, he’d have to change the whole system, get a new number and make sure everyone knew it. It was a nuisance rather than a danger.’

‘So you really think it was a network, like on The Wire?’ Joanna said.

‘It’s just a supposition,’ Slider said. ‘Aude says he got a call early in the morning and then looked worried and said he had to go in to work. So it looks as though he got instructions from his paymasters.’

‘And was told to expect a caller, so that he would let them in without fuss.’

‘And then they shot him,’ Emily said. ‘Nasty but efficient.’

‘But doesn’t that rule out the ex-wife, whatsername?’ Joanna asked.

‘Amanda Sturgess? Not necessarily. She could have been part of the ring – if there was a ring – or the murder could have been quite separate and coincidental. Nothing to do with whatever he was doing for a living.’

‘But you said the killer was looking for the phone,’ Joanna objected.

‘I said that was just a supposition. We don’t know what he was looking for.’

‘Maybe he was looking for a will,’ Mr Slider put in, in his mild, unemphatic voice. ‘You still don’t know who inherits his millions.’

Slider smiled. ‘Or where they are, if there are any.’

‘P’raps these people paid him in cash,’ said Mr Slider. ‘He could have a hoard of it under the floorboards. You’ve never taken the house apart, have you?’

‘We had no reason to,’ Slider said, but he looked at his father thoughtfully. ‘Now you mention it, everyone does keep saying he paid for things in cash. Maybe we should go back and have a rummage. I’ve always said there was some more money somewhere, if only we could find it.’

‘But what were they paying him for?’ Joanna asked. ‘I’m sorry, Jim, but this pastry is nice.’

‘I’ll kill you later for that,’ Atherton said. ‘I suppose drugs is the obvious answer.’

‘It’s got to be something that’s worth a lot of money, if it was worth killing him for,’ Emily said.

‘Well, you’d think that,’ Atherton said, ‘but when it comes down to it, it’s surprising these days how little people will kill for. However, Rogers walked the walk, so let’s suppose for the moment that it was something lucrative.’

‘Ros Taylor said that after Rogers’s scandal, his friend Bernard Webber sorted everything out for him, squared the General Medical Council, and she thought he got him a job too. She said she thought he became a rep for a pharmaceutical company.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of those sorts of drugs,’ Joanna said.

‘Nor was I,’ said Atherton, ‘but a knowledge of legal drugs wouldn’t do you any harm with the other sort. And there’s no knowing that what he started in, he stayed in.’ He looked at his beloved. ‘What? You’ve got that expression – the mills of Stonax are grinding exceeding small.’

‘I did a bit more research this afternoon on the other people who were there that day Rogers assaulted Mrs Lescroit. Ros Taylor we know about, and she was downstairs when it happened, only came upstairs when the rumpus started. Then there was Stephanie, Mr Webber’s secretary, Anthea, Rogers’s secretary, and Eunice, his nurse.’ She extended a finger for each of the three women. ‘Anthea,’ she said, touching the first, ‘was Anthea Maclean, an Australian girl from Melbourne who’d been over here for four years, three of them with Mr Rogers. She went back to Australia a fortnight after the episode, and for all I know she’s there still. She got a job as a receptionist at the Royal Melbourne Hospital but she didn’t stay there long, only eight months, and I haven’t been able to trace her any further. Then there’s Stephanie.’ She touched the second finger. ‘Ros Taylor said she’d died in a traffic accident, and I managed to find the reports of that. She was living in Finchley and she was killed on her way home late at night, after an evening at the cinema. She told her flatmates she was going to the pictures but didn’t say who with. She was run down by a van travelling at high speed, which didn’t stop. No one was ever caught for it. And this was less than a month after the incident.’

‘Are you saying—’ Atherton began, but she shook her head at him.

‘Wait till I finish. Then there’s Eunice, the nurse.’ The third finger. ‘Ros Taylor said Eunice wasn’t happy about the Lescroit business being hushed up, and she left soon afterwards and got a nursing job at a private hospital. I managed to trace that. It was a BUPA hospital at Bushey, and Bernard Webber was consultant urologist there, so maybe he helped her get the job. But she didn’t stay there long. A bit less than six months. Then she committed suicide. Took an overdose.’ She looked round the watching faces. ‘The nurse’s way out.’

‘Are you trying to say you think Rogers had them all killed?’ Atherton said, seeing she had finished.

‘Don’t know about Anthea. She’s probably all right – but she did heave off to Australia pretty sharpish.’

‘What, afraid of being bumped off? Come on!’

‘I said, I don’t know about Anthea,’ Emily said with a trace of annoyance. ‘But don’t you think it’s odd that all three were got swiftly out of the way, and that two of them are dead?’

‘It’s always tempting to see a pattern in what is probably just coincidence,’ Slider said.

‘I’m just throwing it into the pot,’ Emily said with dignity. ‘I’m not claiming anything for it.’

‘All right,’ Slider said placatingly, ‘but if it’s not a coincidence, you’re reasoning that the three women were witnesses to a cover-up worth protecting; and that to stop them talking they were dealt with.’

‘It’s possible, that’s all I’m saying. Anthea encouraged to go home to Oz, where no one would be interested even if she did talk. Stephanie bumped almost straight away. Eunice bribed with a better job at higher pay, then nudged out of play when it proved she couldn’t be trusted.’

‘It sounds plausible,’ Joanna said, ‘but what could it have been that Rogers was afraid of? The main witness against him, Mrs Lescroit, had been bought off, and the GMC had given him the soft option. He was doing as well as could be expected. What was worth risking murder for?’

‘I don’t know,’ Emily said, with a reluctant grin. ‘I’m the researcher, not the writer.’

‘Interesting as it is for a speculation,’ Slider said, ‘I don’t see that it gets us anywhere with the present case.’

‘I was going to say that,’ said Mr Slider. ‘You want to know what he was doing last week, not ten years ago. There’s a last bit of pie going begging. Can I cut a bit for anyone?’

‘Not me, thanks, I’m saving room for pud,’ Emily said.

‘What do you mean, pud?’ Atherton demanded.

‘There’s no pud?’ Emily looked offended.

‘Slave my fingers to the bone, and that’s all the thanks I get,’ Atherton grumbled.

‘There is, isn’t there?’ Emily said, beguiling. ‘I know you.’

‘For God’s sake, woman—’

‘There’s a bit of cake left from last weekend,’ Joanna said hastily. ‘Fruit cake. You could have that with a bit of Wensleydale.’

‘Good idea,’ said Slider. ‘And a drop of malt to go with it?’

Joanna stood up. ‘I’ll get the gubbins, you do the malts.’ Mr Slider stood up as well, and together they cleared the table and went out to the kitchen. It was when she was laying the stuff out on the table that she said, ‘It occurs to me that you talked about four women in the building at the time of Rogers’s assault. But weren’t there five? Didn’t you say –’ to Slider – ‘that it turns out Amanda was there as well?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Slider said thoughtfully.

‘So what did she get out of it? The others got new jobs and tickets home.’

‘And killed,’ Emily reminded her.

‘Carrots and then sticks. But Amanda – nothing.’

‘She wasn’t a part of it,’ Atherton said. ‘She just happened to be there.’

‘Yes,’ said Slider. ‘But it’s funny how it all keeps coming back to her, isn’t it? I wish I knew what she was hiding. She’s involved, I know she is,’ he added in frustration. ‘I just can’t work out how.’

‘You’s de boss, Boss,’ Joanna said, patting his arm. ‘You’ll work it out.’

It turned into a lateish session. Mr Slider went off to bed around ten, saying he couldn’t manage these late nights like the young people, and the others sat round the fire with more drinks and by unspoken consent left the subject of the case and talked about any-and everything else. And when finally Slider began stifling yawns, Emily goosed Atherton with a look and said they had better be going. ‘Don’t forget it’s a school night.’

‘Is it?’ Joanna asked of Slider. ‘Are you working tomorrow? Don’t forget Kate and Matthew are coming to stay.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten. I shall have to go in, but I hope not to stay too long. There’s stuff being looked into, but until we get answers there’s nothing for me to do but make encouraging noises.’

‘Can I look at your baby before we go?’ Emily asked, and Joanna took her upstairs.

‘I think she thinks babies are catching,’ Atherton said to Slider when they were alone.

‘Oh? Are you at that point already?’

‘No use asking me,’ said Atherton. ‘Isn’t that sort of thing always the woman’s decision?’

‘Well, you are allowed an input,’ Slider said.

‘Don’t let’s get smutty.’

‘Seriously, do you want a child?’

‘If I wanted one, I’d want it with Emily,’ Atherton said after some thought.

‘Very circumspect,’ said Slider.

The telephone hauled Slider gasping and flapping out of a deep dream on to the dry shore of awake. The bedside clock said ten past three and it was as cold as the dead of night can be. He reached for the bawling receiver and had a moment of blessed silence before the voice of O’Flaherty, the night relief sergeant, took over in his ear.

‘Are y’awake, Billy, me darling? Let me hear y’ sweet voice, y’ native woodnotes wild, so I can tell if y’r compost mentis or not.’

‘I’d speak if you gave me a chance,’ Slider muttered, hoping not to wake Joanna. ‘This better be good, at this time of morning.’

‘Tis not a chat I’m after, tis your company. I’ve had Detective Superintendent Gordon Hunnicutt of Notting Hill on the blower. Your witness, the Aude female, has bought it.’

The words cut through any remaining fog. ‘Dead?’ he said, not loudly, but sharply enough to make Joanna stir and wake. ‘How?’

‘Bashed on the head, poor little eejit,’ O’Flaherty mourned. ‘Dead as Dick’s hatband. So y’d better get up, get out and get over here.’

‘I’m on my way,’ Slider said, slinging his legs out of bed in the same movement as putting the phone on the hook.

Joanna sat up, shivering. ‘It’s so cold,’ she mumbled. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ve got to go in. Our witness, the Aude girl, has been bumped off.’

‘Oh God. I’m so sorry.’ Slider was already across the room, dragging clothes on. When he came back, half clad, to briefly kiss her goodbye, she grabbed him by the collar to keep him long enough to say, ‘You’re not to feel guilty about this.’

He detached her hand but kissed it before giving it back to her. ‘Too late,’ he said.