Everyone’s capable of change, given the right conditions. Carl was a good, hard worker. And he was always very open and honest in his dealings with me. Anyway, I’m not an easy man to defraud.”
“I thought you hardly ever talked to him.”
“We had to discuss his work occasionally.”
“How much did you pay him?”
“Five pounds an hour. I know that’s not very much for a skilled worker, but he seemed grateful enough. And it was … how shall I say? … cash in hand.”
“How long had he been working for you?”
“Since March.”
“How did you make contact with him?”
“My previous gardener left. I placed an advertisement in the local paper and Carl Johnson replied. He seemed to know his stuff, and I was impressed with his frankness, so I took him on. I never regretted it.” He pointed towards the windows. “As you can see, he did a fine job.”
Banks put his glass down. Harkness offered him another, but he refused. The light had almost gone now, and the river seemed to hoard its last rays and glow from deep within. Harkness turned on the desk lamp.
“Do you know any reason,” Banks asked, “why someone might want to kill him?”
“None. But as I said, I knew nothing about his personal life.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Monday.”
“Did he seem worried about anything?”
“Not that I could tell. We had a brief conversation about the lawn and the roses, as far as I can remember,
and that’s all. As I said, he didn’t confide in me.”
“He didn’t seem different in any way?”
“No.”
“Did he ever mention any of his friends or acquaintances, a girlfriend, perhaps?”
“No. I assumed he acted like any normal young man on his own time.”
“Ever heard of a bloke called Les Poole?”
“No.”
Banks scratched the scar by his right eye and crossed his legs. “Mr Harkness,” he said, “can you think of any reason why Johnson had over a thousand pounds hidden in his flat?”
“A thousand pounds, you say? Well … no. I certainly didn’t pay him that much. Perhaps he saved up.”
“Perhaps.”
“He may have worked for others, too. We didn’t have an exclusive contract.”
“You never asked?”
“Why should I? He was always available when I needed him.”
“Where were you on Thursday evening?”
“Really, Chief Inspector! You can’t believe I had anything to do with the man’s death?”
“Just a matter of elimination, sir.”
“Oh, very well.” Harkness rubbed his chin. “Let me see … Well, Thursday, I’d have been at the Golf Club. I played that afternoon with Martin Lambert, and after the game we had dinner at the club.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Not until well after eleven. The others will vouch for me.”
Banks nodded. He felt that Harkness was enjoying the game, one he knew he could win. There was a kind of smugness and arrogance about him that irked Banks. He
had come across it before in powerful and wealthy people and had never been able accept it.
“I understand you were born around these parts?” he asked.
“Yes. Lyndgarth, as a matter of fact. We emigrated when I was four.”
“South Africa?”
“Yes. Johannesburg. My father saw opportunities there. He liked to take risks, and this one paid off. Why do you ask?”
“Out of interest. You took over the business?”
“When he died. And, I might add, I succeeded him out of ability, not nepotism. I worked with him for years. He taught me all he knew.”
“Is the company still in existence?”
“Very much so. And our mines are still productive. But I’ve had very little to do with that part of the operation of late. I moved to Amsterdam over ten years ago to handle the sales end of the business.” He looked down, swirled the amber liquid in his crystal snifter, then looked Banks in the eye. “Quite frankly, I couldn’t stomach the
