‘With respect, sir, at this point in time I have no evidence to support it being an accident. Unless – or until – I do, this is a crime scene.
Brooker stared back at him and began stabbing at the air with his finger. ‘Listen to me and listen good, Detective Inspector Tingles.’
‘Yeah? Well, whatever, you’d better listen good, Detective. You’d better understand me. I have your Director of Tourism, Adam Bates, totally on board. This is the biggest goddamn motion picture your city’s ever had shot here. I’m not having my multi-million-dollar production set back because of this building’s shit maintenance.’
Jason Tingley, standing his ground, said, ‘At this point, my priority is to ensure the safety of everyone in this building, Mr Brooker.’ He pointed up at the other four, smaller, chandeliers. ‘I’m going to have someone from Health and Safety here at any moment, wanting a full check. One chandelier’s come down. Do you really want to risk the lives of those stars by not having proper safety checks on the others?’
Brooker looked at his watch, a big, chunky digital thing that looked like it belonged on the instrument panel of a Space Shuttle. ‘You know, with respect, officer, this is not your call.’
‘Fine. Speak to the Chief Constable. But until he directs me otherwise, this is my crime scene, and I have to warn you that if you attempt to obstruct me I will arrest you.’
Brooker glowered at him. ‘You know what you are? You’re fucking unreal!’
You are too, Jason Tingley thought.
95
Roy Grace, almost home, was hunting for a parking space near Cleo’s house when Jason Tingley phoned him to tell him what had happened.
He listened intently, all his instincts telling him this was not coincidence, and he said he was on his way. It was only a few minutes’ drive from here to the Pavilion. Moments after the DI hung up his phone rang again. As he answered he heard the nasal James Cagney voice of Gaia’s security adviser Andrew Gulli.
‘Detective Superintendent Grace?’
‘Yes, how are you?’
‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on, Detective Grace?’
‘I’m actually on my way to find out myself.’
‘I understand that Gaia’s kid was almost killed just now. This is not an acceptable situation.’
‘How is he?’
‘He’s fine. But Gaia’s pretty distressed.’
‘If you want to meet me at the Pavilion-’
‘I’m already there,’ Gulli cut him short. ‘I need to know what’s going on. Is your goddamn building falling down, or is there someone behind this? I have to make decisions regarding my client’s security. Am I making myself clear?’
‘Meet me at the front entrance in five minutes.’
‘I’m there.’
Grace hung up and immediately phoned Cleo, warning her he didn’t know what time he would be home now. She told him she understood – not something Sandy had said to him very often.
Then his phone rang yet again. It was the Chief Constable. ‘Roy, what information do you have about this incident at the Pavilion?’
‘I’m on my way there now, sir.’
‘I don’t like the sound of it at all.’
‘No, sir. I can call you back and give you an update after I get there.’
‘Yes, please do.’
A few minutes later he drove into the Pavilion grounds, which were ablaze with blue flashing lights. A large crowd of onlookers was gathered along the far side of the perimeter wall, camera flashes popping intermittently. Two PCSOs were busily cordoning off the entire Royal Pavilion building, and another was already in situ as a scene guard. A dozen bewildered-looking people, film crew he supposed, were milling around on the lawn beneath the darkening sky which was threatening rain, some making phone calls, some smoking. A police van, laden with uniformed officers, siren wailing, turned into the archway as he got out of his car.
Andrew Gulli was standing beside the scene guard. As Grace approached he said, ‘This goddamn officious bastard won’t let me through.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said. ‘Until we’ve established what happened, we’re treating this whole building as a crime scene; I can’t allow you in. My advice would be to get Gaia and Roan back to the safety of their hotel.’
Gulli shook his head. ‘The director’s asked her to wait – they may shoot some exterior footage tonight.’
‘In that case keep a very close eye on her. Put her security guards around her trailer.’
‘That’s already in place.’
Grace signed the log, ducked under the tape, and hurried through the front of the building. A security guard directed him to the Banqueting Room and Tingley greeted him as he entered. He observed several fire officers working around the edges of the huge, fallen chandelier, and two paramedics on their stomachs in the middle of the debris. He heard the whine of hydraulic cutting gear. Three police officers seemed to be taking down details of the people in the room. ‘What’s the latest?’ he asked.
‘The victim’s died, sir,’ Tingley said, quietly.
‘Shit. What information do we have about him?’ He looked up, then back at the DI. ‘Was he part of the film crew?’
‘Not from what I’ve been able to find out so far. Two of the security guards said he appeared from a part of the building not open to the public, in panic. He punched one of the guards who tried to apprehend him in the corridor, ran into this room and pushed Gaia’s son clear seconds before the chandelier came down.’
‘What was the boy doing in here?’
‘Playing, while his mother was in make-up.’
‘He’s safe and unhurt?’
‘Yes, he’s back with his mother.’
‘This man – show me where he came from.’
Tingley pointed to the corridor Grace had just walked along.
A voice from behind startled them. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, I can’t believe this.’
Both detectives turned to see a tall, elegant man in his fifties, in a chalk-striped suit, come into the room. He was looking ashen. ‘This was King George’s worst nightmare. I can’t believe it.’ Then he looked at them both. ‘I’m David Barry, the Curator of this building.’
Grace and Tingley introduced themselves.
Barry looked up at the ceiling. ‘This is isn’t possible. I’m sorry, it’s just not possible. Oh God. Oh my God! There’s someone trapped underneath – what is the poor man’s condition?’
‘The paramedics say he’s died, I’m afraid,’ Tingley responded.
‘This is terrible. Unbelievable.’ He looked at the two men. ‘You have to understand, you
Jason Tingley pointed at the wreckage and said, pragmatically, ‘I’m finding that a little hard to accept at this moment, sir.’
Roy Grace found it a little hard to accept, too. The man had punched a security guard in the corridor and then run into this room. It was impossible to see the chandelier from the corridor. So what did the man know – whoever he was – and how?
‘Was this chandelier checked regularly?’ Grace asked Barry. ‘Does someone carry out safety checks on the fixings?’
The Curator raised his arms, helplessly and bewildered. ‘Well, I mean, every five years the entire thing is
