‘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.
THIRTY-NINE
‘No, this isn’t right.’ Bren sat back, shaking his head.
‘What’s that?’ Kathy looked up. She’d had another Saturday morning swim and she felt invigorated, her hair still damp.
‘Brock ordered some forensic checks last night. They’ve got them all wrong. Is he here?’
At that moment the office door opened and Brock stuck his head in and growled, ‘Morning.’ He looked rumpled and bleary, as if from a late night and possibly a hangover.
‘Your forensic results just came in, Brock. They’ve stuffed them up.’
‘Oh?’ Brock frowned, as if trying to remember what he was talking about.
‘Yes, the fingerprints from Ferncroft Close. They reckon they’ve got a match, but not to Wayne Everett. It’s obviously a mistake.’
‘Ah.’ Brock came in and sat heavily on a chair. ‘That coffee smells good.’
Kathy got up to fetch him a cup.
‘It’s a beautiful June Saturday morning,’ Brock went on. ‘They’ll be setting up the stumps on village cricket pitches all over England. Thank you, Kathy. Just what I need.’ He took an appreciative sip. ‘They’ve got a match to Garry, I take it.’
Bren looked surprised. ‘Yes, how did you know? They must have mixed them up.’
‘No. Sundeep was right all along, about Peebles’ time of death. He died on the night after he killed Nancy Haynes.’
‘What? But he couldn’t have!’
‘Because he phoned Hadden-Vane three days later, yes. Except that he didn’t-Garry did.’
Bren began to frame a protest, but Brock went on. ‘Our case against Wayne Everett is circumstantial. He knew all the players-Hadden-Vane, Danny Yilmaz, Kenny Watson up in Barlinnie and his sister’s house in Ferncroft Close-but we have no witnesses, no camera or forensic evidence to link him to the murder. Someone else who knew Wayne could have got that information from him, and used it. Yesterday Toby’s cook Julie told Kathy that Garry and Wayne were drinking buddies.’
‘So…’ Bren’s brow creased as he digested this, ‘you’re saying that Garry discovered that Wayne was acting as Hadden-Vane’s fixer to arrange Nancy’s murder, and then, when Toby killed Moszynski, he used that knowledge to frame Peebles for the second murder, by going to Ferncroft Close where he discovered his body and phone, and sent a further message to Hadden-Vane. All within an hour of Toby killing Moszynski. Pretty smart work.’ Bren sounded sceptical.
‘Yes, unless they’d planned it that way all along.’
‘Eh?’
‘There’s another way of looking at it, Bren. Garry wasn’t the only one from the hotel getting pally with the staff next door. Julie told Kathy that Toby had made friends with Hadden-Vane’s old chauffeur, Bernie Watson, when he was alive, taking him cups of tea when he was sitting out there for hours waiting for his boss. I think they’d been spying on the Moszynski household for years, hoping to get something to use against them.’
‘Well, yes, but…’
‘The thing is, we now know Garry was in the house at Ferncroft Close, but we don’t know when. You’re suggesting that he went there at the very end, after the Moszynski murder, but he could equally well have been there from the beginning. He could have been the one who arranged for Peebles to come down and murder Nancy Haynes.’
‘What, you mean he could have been working for Hadden-Vane?’
‘No, Bren, for Toby. Freddie Clarke’s confession would have ruined Hadden-Vane financially, politically and socially-that’s why he jumped off Westminster Bridge. But it didn’t provide any evidence that he was involved in murder.’
‘But why would Toby want Nancy dead?’
Brock shook his head. ‘I don’t know. But I’ve always felt that those two murders, although they were so different, were part of the same story. Nancy Haynes tossed a bomb into the works when she came to London. I don’t know what it was, but we’ll find out.’
Kathy, who had been silent up to now, decided she might as well get her two bob’s worth in. ‘And that would mean that John was probably right about the letter to The Times being a fake.’
Brock gave an impatient little frown. ‘Maybe so,’ he conceded. ‘But you mustn’t let your feelings get in the way of your reason, Kathy.’
She stared at him in astonishment. ‘ My feelings?’
Brock blinked and looked embarrassed for a moment, then said quickly, ‘Bren, we need to find out exactly where Garry left his traces at Ferncroft Close, and whether any of them were overlaid by Peebles’. I’m also wondering if Garry may have killed Peebles with that overdose. It always seemed very convenient that he died before we could get to him.’
As they began to discuss procedures, Kathy turned back to her desk and got on with her work.
John had moved to another hotel, not far from Chelsea Mansions. When Kathy called on him that evening she found him ironing a shirt.
‘Catching up with the laundry?’ she said.
‘Helps me think,’ he replied.
‘Have you been doing much of that?’ The truth was that she had half expected him to be gone, back home to Canada.
‘A bit.’
