Whoever had been here was well and truly out of sight now. I walked back to the stage, looked up at the hanging figure.
Calder looked smaller, more pathetic than I remembered him.
His grey flannels indicated he’d vented his bowels and bladder as the rope had tightened. His face was pearl grey and contorted. He didn’t look like a man who had died a happy death.
Chapter 12
PLOD’S RESPONSE FLOORED ME. If I saw one flashing blue light, I saw a hundred. They swarmed on the uni, had the grounds floodlit and taped off before I could blink. A power of uniforms spread out, taking orders from a small coterie of pot-bellied detectives in the sort of coats BHS specialise in. Wife-bought, no doubt. The hall was sealed off and all the exits guarded by barrel-chested thugs in high-visibility jackets. I watched one playing with the handle on his baton; it sat in a quick-release holster; he looked primed to crack a few heads. None of the campus bods messed: a couple of stragglers in dressing gowns floated about, approached the odd WPC and got pelters for their trouble. The word had obviously went out from on high: batten this one down, fast.
‘Right, eh… Dury?’ It was a balding fifty-something with a Magnum P. I. tache and a roll-neck that had been worn to shreds by his stubbly jowls.
‘Yeah, that’s me.’
I didn’t expect a hand to be extended, so I wasn’t disappointed. ‘Aye… you match the description.’
‘
A grunt; some tea-stained teeth put on show. ‘You’re the talk of the station.’
My rep preceded me. Was hardly surprised; a chill passed through me, though. I could recall being fitted up by these fuckers one too many times before. Three cold beads of sweat ran down my back like a cat’s claw.
‘Look, I gave my statement to the young lad in uniform. What is it you want from me?’
His dark eyes widened above heavy bags, stretched so much I could make out the cholesterol rings on his irises. ‘I’ll ask the fucking questions.’ He licked the tip of a pencil, brought it down to hover above his notepad. He was still staring at me, waiting for a tell, a twitch, any excuse to lamp me one, introduce me to the slippery steps, when a Daimler pulled up. The vehicle was flagged through the cordon. Thought: Must be top brass. I watched the car roll towards the main building, then glide to a halt a few steps away from us. As the door opened, I caught sight of a star and a crown on an epaulette. Wasn’t an expert on the filth but felt sure that kind of flash was reserved for the chief super.
‘Oh, fuck…’ said Magnum tache.
I looked back at him. He pressed the pencil tip into the notepad; the lead snapped.
The super made his way towards us with a purposeful stride. Silver-grey hair had been carefully parted on his head. He covered it with his cap. The badge shone in the flashing lights. Though it was the middle of the night, he was immaculately turned out; couldn’t do much about the furrows on his brows, though. He looked like a man ready to bust heads under his carefully polished police-issue shoes.
‘Detective.’ His clipped voice sounded out of place in this century.
‘Chief Super.’ I half expected to see bowing and scraping, genuflexion.
The boss man started to put on brown leather gloves. They clashed with the black uniform, but I wasn’t about to tell him. ‘What’s the SP, Detective?’
‘Erm, well… no’ much change since the briefing.’ He turned to me. ‘This is the bloke that found him.’
The super put steely-blue eyes on me; I felt frozen in his gaze. For a moment I thought he might speak, but he merely sussed me out, drew what he could from my appearance – by the kip of me, I dreaded to think what that might be.
The super took the notebook from the detective, flicking back a few pages. He halted on one or two points. I watched him wet his lips with a flash of grey tongue. The piercing eyes seemed to be recording every detail; he unnerved me.
‘That’s enough, Detective,’ he said, ‘back to work. I’ll expect your report on my desk in the morning.’
‘The morning… It’s the middle of-’
The super lifted his head; it was enough.
‘Yes, sir.’
As plod departed I was left alone with the top boy. He spoke to me for the first time: ‘So, Mr Dury…’
Was it a conversational gambit? I didn’t bite. Held schtum.
He put his hands behind his back, turned and nodded to the car park. ‘Shall we take a walk?’
Couldn’t say it appealed to me, but I followed on. He had a strong stride, spoke as he walked. ‘You have a name I hear cropping up quite a bit these days.’
‘That so?’
A piranha smirk. ‘Oh, yes.’ He stretched out the vowel.
‘Well, better than no one talking about me, I suppose.’
We’d reached the bourne of the car park. ‘I don’t believe I’ve given you my name.’ He extended his hand. ‘Chief Superintendent Charles Henderson.’
I shook his hand, but it felt unnatural.
‘What interest do you have in this… case, Mr Dury?’
I played him. ‘By case, do you mean Calder’s murder… or are you including Ben Laird’s too?’
He brought a gloved hand up to his chin, rubbed the spot where most men would have stubble at this time of the night, said, ‘What makes you think either were murdered?’
I let out a sigh. Most people would have taken that as an indication that I wasn’t playing the game but Henderson didn’t faze. ‘Well, Ben aside, for the moment, if you were properly briefed tonight you’d know that I’d heard movement in the hall before I found Calder.’
He smiled. ‘It was probably just the wind. It’s a draughty old hall.’
Couldn’t believe I was hearing this, said, ‘Are you serious?’
The smile remained. ‘I’m deadly serious… there’s no way he was murdered, Mr Dury – we found a suicide note.’
First Ben dies, put down as a gasper; then Calder’s a suicide. Aye, right. I didn’t button up the back.
I said, ‘The note was typed, I suppose.’
‘On Calder’s computer.’ Henderson blinked – first sign I had that he was human. ‘There’s no disputing it’s his.’
There was no way I was buying this, arked up, ‘If you think I’m stupid enough to believe-’
He raised a gloved hand, smirked. ‘Mr Dury, I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to challenge the official version of events.’
I eyeballed him, making sure he got my meaning. ‘What you mean is… surely I’m not stupid enough to challenge
He remained calm, quiet; kept that firm gaze of his on me. That earlier blink now seemed like a momentary lapse of concentration. He was back in character.
I turned, headed out of the car park. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might pack in at any moment. I was deeper into this caper than I’d imagined; wondered if it was going to be the end of me. If filth – right at the top of the ladder – were taking an interest, it couldn’t be good… but this turn was the worst yet. Felt as if I’d waded deep into shit creek.
On the street I turned, stared back into the dead of night. Henderson was gone, the spot on the tarmac where he’d stood now bathed in blue light flashing from a stream of exiting police cars.
Chapter 13
I PROPPED MYSELF IN A Southside bar. Felt so wasted by lack of sleep and mental exhaustion I couldn’t even
