‘Mr Dury, glad to see you.’
That sounded like exaggeration but I was glad of the formality. It would be a help for what I had in mind. If you’re going to say unconventional things, say them in conventional clothes.
‘Is Paul joining us?’
‘I have asked him, yes.’
Tina lit another cigarette from the tip of the one she was smoking, sighed loudly. It was enough to call all eyes to her, momentarily.
I said, ‘That’s good.’
Gillian walked around the sofa, spoke, ‘Are you sure it’s really necessary? I mean, I don’t see what he can tell us.’
I raised an eyebrow, wanted to say,
Tina grudgingly offered Hod and me some drinks. I took a mineral water and settled myself in the corner, back to the wall, and opposite the main sofa where Gillian sat. I wanted to have a full vantage point, didn’t want to miss anything. If Her Ladyship liked theatre, she was in line for some – good-style.
We spoke for a few minutes about developments in the investigation. Gillian flustered once or twice, but held it together. I admired how buckled-up she was, under the circumstances. Tina stroked her back from time to time, making approving noises in between drags on her cigarette. It was all very touching; if you’re touched by that kind of thing. Hod looked fit to hurl. I knew I’d have to listen to a commentary on his views about lezzing off all the way home, jokes about Sandi Toksvig being on the Number 73 bus… stuff like that.
Gillian had a few things she wanted to get off her chest, ‘Why did you ask me to bring Paul here?… He was Ben’s friend, you realise, there was nothing nefarious in their relationship.’
Had she been listening to me? What about all the times I’d reported to her about Ben’s drug dealing, the brasser parties? And here she was, still playing the ‘my Ben was an angel’ tune. I rolled eyes. ‘Look, Gillian, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Ben and his friends were far from run-of-the-mill boyos. The whole crew had ideas above their station that got out of control.’
She looked stunned, as if I’d slapped her. ‘That’s not so.’
I battered that down: ‘Trust me… I know it.’
Tina clawed at Gillian’s hand, motioning her to be calm. ‘I don’t want to believe it.’
Hardly a breakthrough, but getting somewhere. I played the hard card. ‘I need to see Paul because he was mixed up in this mess… and I don’t want to see him get in any deeper.’
She turned to Tina, her voice faltering. ‘Go and get Paul.’
Tina let her heavily mascaraed eyelashes lock shut – for a second or two we were treated to her china blue lids in all their glory – then she shook her head and noisily stropped off to the door. I waited until she was out of the room before restarting my questioning. ‘How did you and Tina meet?’
Gillian fumbled her words: ‘I-I…’ She looked for an excuse not to answer, but nothing queued up behind her eyes. ‘Tina was a guest at a house party we threw.’
‘
‘Ben and I… it was after my marriage broke down.’
‘Did Ben arrange this party?’ I pressed her.
She turned away from me, lied, ‘No. It was all my idea.’
When Tina came back with Paul he had slipped into his unctuous preppy-on-the-make persona, striding over to Gillian and grabbing her in a falsely convivial hug. I felt ready to chuck: one luvvie in the room was enough. If he thought Her Ladyship was going to protect him, he was deluded… more than I thought.
‘Hello, Paul,’ I said, tones flat.
He put those powdery-blue eyes on me, then Hod. The pair sized each other up over the rug for a moment or two, Paul dropped his gaze first. He was just a boy after all.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here today, Mr Dury,’ he said.
I couldn’t suppress a smirk. ‘Oh, I bet you didn’t.’
The ginge sat down between Tina and Gillian; Tina took his hand, held it firmly. I got the impression m’laddo had been waiting to be questioned for some time. That he was primed.
I got stuck right in: ‘Tell me about the Seriatim.’
He smiled, touched the side of his nose. ‘It’s a debating group… a few of the boys on campus are involved. I didn’t start it.’
Gillian seemed pleased with the answer; rubbed Paul’s thigh.
‘You didn’t start the fire, eh.’ They looked perplexed. I went on: ‘It was always burning… right?’
Paul shuffled in his seat, shrugged shoulders. ‘Erm, it’s an old group, started in the eighteenth century by prominent city luminaries who wanted to help out the coming generations… It’s tradition. There’s not much I can say about it.’
‘Sworn to secrecy?’
Paul’s chest inflated. He sighed. ‘It’s not that kind of group,’ he snapped now, getting jerky. ‘It’s a social thing more than anything.’
It might have started out that way, as a nice way of getting the up-and-coming brats more than their fair share of the pie, showing them the lie of the land, but this crew had got carried away. Ben had led the way with drug taking and wild parties; forays into the city’s seamier side; it had all got out of control. Maybe it always had been, though. I gave him that.
‘When did you and Ben start doing drugs?’
He turned to Gillian. She gave an approving look, nodded as if to say,
Paul said, ‘I… we started in first year… There was a lot of stuff about.’
I held firm, pressed on with low tones: ‘And when did Ben start dealing?’
Another long pause, then a slightly cocky smile. ‘He was always the man to go to for a bit of puff.’
Paul thought he was almost in the clear, that I was going to blame Ben for everything. I upped the ante. ‘And the serious stuff… when did he get involved with Danny Gemmill?’
Paul crossed his legs away from Gillian, ‘I don’t know exactly. Maybe sometime last year… Mr Dury, I didn’t have anything to do with that side of Ben’s life.’
I watched Tina light a cigarette; took my own pack out, sparked up. I walked closer to Paul. His eyes looked watery, rimmed in red. ‘And what about the prostitutes… did you have more to do with that?’
Tina stood up. ‘This is getting sick!’
Gillian flagged her down. ‘Tina… Tina.’
‘No, fuck this… Do we have to listen to this?’ She held her cigarette like a dart. Gillian waved me on. Tina stomped for the door, jerked it violently and stormed through. A cloud of dust evacuated along the skirting as the door slammed shut.
‘I’m sorry about that. Go on,’ said Gillian. She moved further down the sofa, surveyed Paul’s reactions as I started to question him again.
‘On the day Joe Calder was hanged, Paul… where were you?’
He answered quickly; too quickly. ‘It was in the night. I was tucked up in bed. Why are you asking me that? The police seem perfectly satisfied that it was a suicide.’
I took a deep drag on my tab. ‘I’m not the police.’
Paul leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees and made a steeple of his fingers. The pose looked uncomfortable and he broke free of it, slouching backwards in the sofa. He said, ‘Look, why are you asking me all of this?… I haven’t done anything wrong.’
I put a hand in my pocket, drew a fist. I would dearly have loved to put several jabs in his smart puss. The kid was covering his arse and being cocky about it. He felt protected. I stood over him. ‘Maybe your idea of right and wrong is different from mine.’
He stood, took a step towards me and inflated his chest. ‘I don’t much care what you think.’ He was in no position to be so bold.
‘Really?’ I heard Hod manoeuvre himself to stand at my back. ‘Is that how Stevo got the sore face? Lose that temper of yours, Paul?’
He bared teeth, near spat, then shoved past me. I caught his shoulder as it connected with my own. It spun
