‘Amateur sleuth work.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Thing is, you’d know — who are the real barflies up at that place? Who was guaranteed to have been there at closing time and seen him go?’
‘Well, Bob Chubb’s the obvious one. He was on the bar, wasn’t he?’
‘Do you have his number?’
‘Yes, sure. I’ll get it. I — what’s that love?’ Vee’s voice was asking something in the background. ‘Just twiddle the aerial round to the right. Sorry, Charles, our television’s on the blink. Extremely unwilling to get a decent picture on BBC2. Comes of buying cheap junk. Ah, here it is.’ He gave Charles Robert Chubb’s number. ‘I only hope it bears fruit. It seems incredible, doesn’t it? The idea that Hugo… I keep thinking that it’ll all turn out to be a mistake and all be cleared up somehow.’
‘It depends what you mean by cleared up. Charlotte will still be dead.’
‘Yes.’
Robert Chubb answered the phone. His voice was bland and elocuted. When it heard who was calling, it took on a colder note. And when it heard what Charles wanted to know, it became positively snappish.
‘As I have already told the police, Mr. Mecken left the bar at about ten-thirty. On his own. I don’t really know why I should waste my time repeating this to you. I know everyone likes to see themselves as a private eye, but I really do suggest, Mr. Parrish, that you should leave criminal investigation to the professionals.’
‘And I really do suggest, Mr. Chubb, that you should do the same with the theatre.’ Charles slammed the phone down.
He was beginning to run out of small change. He rested his penultimate 10p on the slot and dialled the Gerald’s number again,
The solicitor answered, sounding formal, even pettish. ‘Oh, hello, Charles, Kate said you’d rung. Look, could you ring me later on tomorrow? I’m dog-tired. I’ve just got in and I’m sure whatever you’ve got to say will keep.
‘Gerald, it’s about Hugo.’
‘Oh. Oh yes, of course, you were with him when he found the body — or claimed to find it.’
‘Yes. How’s it going?’
‘What do you mean — how’s it going?’
‘With Hugo.’
‘Charles, I’m sorry.’ Gerald sounded exasperated and professional. ‘I know you are a friend and we are talking about a mutual friend, but I’m afraid, as a solicitor, I can’t discuss my clients’ affairs.’
‘You can tell me where he is, can’t you? Is he in prison — or where?’
‘He’ll be spending tonight in the cells at Breckton Police Station.’
‘And then what?’
Gerald sighed with annoyance. ‘Tomorrow morning he’ll appear at Breckton Magistrates’ Court where he’ll be remanded in custody. Which means Brixton. Then he’ll be remanded again every week until the trial.’
‘Hmm. When can I get to see him?’
‘See him — what do you mean?’
‘You know, see him. I want to ask him some questions.’
‘Well, I don’t know. I suppose it may be possible for him to have visitors when he’s in Brixton. I’m not sure how soon — ’
‘No, I want to see him tomorrow.’
‘That’s impossible.’
‘Will you be seeing him?’
‘Yes, of course. As his solicitor, I’ll be in court and see him before he’s taken off to Brixton.’
‘Well, can’t I come along with you and be passed off as one of your outfit?’
‘One of my outfit?’ Gerald italicized the last word with distaste.
‘Yes, surely you have colleagues in your office, articled clerks and what have you. Pretend I’m one of them.’
‘Charles, do you realize what you’re saying? You are asking me to indulge in serious professional misconduct. Have you been drinking?’
‘Yes., of course I have. But that’s not the point. I am completely serious.’
‘Charles, I am also serious. This is an extremely serious matter. We are talking about a case of murder.’
‘What about the death of Willy Mariello? Wasn’t that a case of murder? You were keen enough to help me on that. Indeed, whenever I meet you, you get all schoolboyish and ask me when I’m going to get involved in another case and beg that I’ll let you know and work together with you on it.”
‘Yes, but that’s different.’
‘No, it isn’t. The only difference is that this case happens to be one in which you are already involved professionally. So far as I’m concerned, this is a case of murder which might well need investigation and, according to your frequently expressed desire, I am asking you if you will help me on it.’
Gerald was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, it was with less certitude. ‘But, Charles, this is a fairly open-and-shut case. I mean, I know I shouldn’t say this about a client, but it seems to me that there’s little doubt Hugo did it. It all fits in too neatly. And anyway the police wouldn’t have arrested and charged him so quickly if it hadn’t been pretty definite.’
‘Okay, I agree. It is most likely that Hugo murdered Charlotte. But I feel that so long as there’s even the vaguest alternative possibility, we should investigate it. Well, I should, anyway. Just for my peace of mind.’
What do you mean by an alternative possibility?’
‘Say an alibi. Suppose Hugo saw someone, talked to someone during that missing twenty-four hours…
‘But if he did, surely he would have told the police.’
‘Yes, probably. Look, I haven’t worked it all out yet, but I feel guilty about it and — ’
Gerald was continuing his own train of thought. ‘Anyway, we are only talking of a fairly short period for which he’d need an alibi. The preliminary medical report came in while I was down at the Breckton Police Station. They’ll get the full post-mortem results in a couple of days. It seems that when you discovered Charlotte’s body she’d already been dead for twenty-four hours.’
‘Good God. So she was killed on the Monday night.’
‘Yes. The police theory is that Hugo arrived back from the theatre club smashed out of his mind, had an argument with his wife — possibly over sexual matters — and then… well, strangled her and hid the body. It fits. He’d had a hell of a lot to drink.’
‘I see. And I suppose the theory is that he continued drinking through the Tuesday to get over the shock.’
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘Hmm. This makes it even more imperative that I see Hugo.’
‘Charles, I have a professional reputation to — ’
‘Oh, stuff that, Gerald. For God’s sake. You’re always complaining to me how bloody boring your work is, how sick you get of fiddling about with theatrical contracts all day, how you wish you could get involved in something really exciting like a murder. Well, here’s one right in your in-tray
‘Yes, and it’s just because it’s there that I have to treat it with professional propriety.’
‘Gerald, stop being so bloody pompous. I’ve got to see Hugo. Look, there’s hardly any risk involved. Okay, so you’ve got a new Mr. Paris on your staff. No one knows you down in Breckton. No one’s going to check.’
‘Well…’ wavering.
Press home advantage. ‘Come on, Gerald. Live a little. Take a risk. Being a solicitor is the business of seeing how far laws can bend — why not test this one out?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Look, you’re nearly fifty, Gerald. I don’t believe you’ve ever taken a risk in you life. Even the shows you put money into are all box office certainties. Just try this. Come on, I’ll be the one who gets clobbered if anything goes wrong. But nothing will, anyway. Go on, what do you say?’
‘Well… Look, if I do agree, and if you do find out there’s anything to be investigated, you will keep me in the picture, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
