The Bach Manuscript

Chapter 16

On his way into north Oxford, Ben phoned Jeff on the Alpina’s hands-free system to tell him the Hobart meeting had fallen through and that he might be held up in the UK for a couple of days due to a separate matter. Jeff knew Ben too well to ask for details, and Ben knew Jeff too well to offer any, fully aware that both he and Tuesday would drop everything and be there like a shot to help him if they suspected the least hint of trouble.

Ben wanted to deal with this alone, his way.

The big black Plymouth Barracuda was parked outside Nick’s place, dwarfing every other vehicle in the street and looking more like a gangster’s ride than a detective inspector’s. No other police cars were in sight, nothing left to mark the crime scene except the police tape cordoning off a section of the iron railings. Ben parked the Alpina across the street and crossed over. As he passed the American car, a ferocious barking erupted inside without warning and he turned to see a large German shepherd dog launching itself at the window to get to him, making the whole car rock on its suspension. Ben paused to admire the dog. It reminded him of his own shepherd, Storm, and for a moment he yearned to be home at Le Val.

Ben let himself inside the house using his Yale bump key, climbed the stairs to the top floor and limboed between the strands of police tape blocking Nick’s apartment door. Ben walked into the wrecked living room and called out, ‘Hey, McAllister.’

Tom McAllister appeared from the kitchen, blinking in surprise to see Ben. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Does anybody else in Thames Valley Police drive a Yank tank like that?’ Ben said.

‘What powers of observation you have, Mr Hope.’

‘They say it’s the ones who blend in that you have to watch out for.’

‘That’s just what I want them to think,’ McAllister replied with a crooked smile. ‘Tell you the truth, I won the car in a poker game. I’ve no idea why I keep the damn thing. One day someone’ll do me a favour and pinch it.’

‘I don’t think your German shepherd will let that happen.’

‘His name’s Radar.’

‘Police dog?’

‘Was,’ McAllister said. ‘He was too aggressive for the job. Couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad guys half the time.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Ben said, eyeing him.

‘You don’t trust the police much, do you?’

‘What were you doing in Nick’s kitchen, hunting for leftover tuna sandwiches?’

‘No, I was just admiring the nice copper pots the man had. There’s a Mauviel skillet worth half a week’s pay. Had a lot of great recipe books, too.’

‘What are you, a frustrated chef or something?’

‘In my dreams.’

‘Anything would beat working with your idiot of a boss.’

‘Forbsie?’ McAllister shrugged. ‘So is that what you came back here for, to tell me what I already know?’

‘No, I came back here to figure out what I’m missing,’ Ben said. ‘Something about this situation isn’t making sense to me.’

‘Me neither. But you shouldn’t be here. You may have noticed the tape on your way in. That’s intended to indicate that members of the public — that would be you — are meant to keep out.’

‘Must have missed it,’ Ben said. ‘Then again, keeping me out is hard to do.’

‘So I noticed. You’re not the kind of fella who’s easily stopped, are you?’

‘Is that your intuitive impression?’

‘Partly. I also looked you up.’

‘Everybody does these days. I must be more interesting than I thought.’

‘What was it, SAS?’

‘You wouldn’t find that information on my record.’

‘Not the records the MoD would allow the likes of me to access, that’s for sure. The ministry got in a right flap when I tried to poke my nose in. Not that I’d have found anything I didn’t already know.’

Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘And how would that be?’

‘I knew one or two of those fellas in Belfast,’ McAllister said, ‘back at the tail end of the Troubles, before I got out of the place. You’ve got the look. You could grow your hair and beard a yard long and walk around looking like John frigging Lennon and you’d still have it.’

‘Didn’t know I was that obvious.’

‘Not to Forbsie. But like you said, the man’s an eedjit.’

Ben sighed. ‘Well, now you know who I am, just don’t call me “Major”, okay? I don’t like it.’

‘Oh, I’d never do that,’ McAllister said. ‘I demonstrate a lack of respect for authority. Or so my superiors are always telling me.’

Ben looked at him. ‘I think you’re the most unusual cop I’ve ever met.’

McAllister pulled another crooked smile. ‘You have no idea.’

‘Then you and I just might get along,’ Ben said. ‘Mind if I take a look around?’

‘Would it stop you if I said yes?’

‘No, but it might spoil this nice entente we’re having.’

Ben walked over to the door of the spare bedroom and peered inside. The large recliner chair in the middle of the room was surrounded by tables and stands on which dozens of plants had stood, before the thieves had raided it. You could see the water marks and rings where the pots had been, and little piles of spilled earth. The room reeked of stale cannabis smoke and compost. The infrared lamp was still burning. Ben noticed the deadbolt that had been fitted to the inside of the door.

‘It’s as we found it,’ McAllister said. ‘Cosy little setup yer man had in there, with his comfy chair and more greenery than the botanical gardens. I wouldn’t mind a room like that myself.’

Ben said nothing and returned to gaze at the wreck of the living room. After that morning’s process of elimination, he was looking at a blank sheet, sucking in every detail to try to make sense of what he was seeing. ‘Looks just the same as it did last night. Nothing’s been touched?’

‘Not yet. Forensic examiner got held up. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.’

‘I’ll be gone by then,’ Ben said. ‘So what’s your take?’

McAllister frowned and pursed his lips as he gravely surveyed the scene. ‘Forget drug deal gone bad. And I don’t think they came here to do murder. Looks to me like an aggravated robbery, pure and simple.’

Ben nodded. ‘Maybe.’

‘You don’t look convinced.’

‘I don’t think it’s quite that straightforward,’ Ben said. ‘Your average burglars wouldn’t be interested in artwork, and there’s no way they’d even try to cart a piano down the stairs even if it was worth a fortune. But that leaves plenty of stuff here they’d have gone for. Like that stereo, for a start. They wouldn’t have trashed it.’ He pointed at the expensive Pioneer sound system that had been hurled to the floor along with the rest of the contents of the bookcase it had been resting on. Nearby, a home cinema unit had been kicked over, along with the super-size flat screen and Blu-ray player that were now lying in a mess of wires.

‘I’m with you there,’ McAllister agreed. ‘That’s a grand and a half’s worth of TV they’ve left behind. But I’m thinking, the kind of guy who can afford to live in a place like this and lets the birds crap all over his Aston Martin has money to burn. He could have had piles of cash lying around, for all we know. Or a bunch of jewels and gold watches. Maybe they just filled their pockets and ignored the rest of it.’

‘I was here just a few hours before it happened. I didn’t see money lying around. Nick wasn’t that ostentatious. He only let the birds crap on the car because he wasn’t into the wealthy lifestyle thing. In any case, he was a classical organist, not a rock star. He was doing okay, but I don’t think he was a millionaire.’

‘Then they came for the weed,’ McAllister said. ‘Your friend had a bit of a habit, to say the least. Maybe someone else got wind of the wee forest he’d grown for himself in there. That would explain why they hit this place and not any of the neighbours.’

‘I already thought of that,’ Ben said. ‘But if they came for the weed, then why smash the whole place up?’

McAllister shrugged. ‘Just being bad bastards. I’ve seen it all before, believe me. Got called out to a robbery at a stately home last month. You should’ve seen the mess. What they couldn’t load into their van, they pissed and shat on just for kicks. Takes all sorts.’

Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t buy your theory, Inspector. And I’ll tell you why.’