The Concrete Ceiling

by Peter Rowlands

  I phoned Sam.

  “It’s a bummer, isn’t it?” she said with eloquent economy.

  I sensed that she was driving. I said, “Where are you?”

  “Somewhere in Kent. I’ve borrowed Ronnie’s car, and I’m on my way down to see Graham’s ex-wife Joan in Tenterden. She was still very fond of him.”

  “What do you think about what they’re reporting?”

  “What do I think? I think the press has hounded Graham to his death. That’s what I think.”

  “Is this new woman lying?”

  “Lying or deluded – take your pick.”

  “So why did he kill himself?”

  “Why do you think? No smoke without fire – that’s what he assumed everyone would think. The poor man has just spent weeks on remand for something he didn’t do, and then as soon as he’s released he’s accused of something else he didn’t do. They caught him at his lowest ebb, and he’d had enough. It’s utterly despicable.”

  * * *

  Sam phoned me back in the middle of the evening.

  “What a lot of driving just to get to mid-Kent. I should have taken the train.”

  “How did it go today?”

  “Joan is sad but she’s philosophical. Graham had a depressive streak, although he managed to hide it quite well. Partly he compensated with his bluster and his nervous energy.”

  “I never saw him as bipolar.”

  “I don’t think he was ever diagnosed. It’s just my way of describing him.”

  “So did she think there could be any truth in what this woman claims Graham did to her?”

  “There was no way she was going to tell me something like that.”

  I sensed that she was leaving something unsaid. “But?”

  “Well, she did say he used to get very caught up in the lives of the girls he taught. He liked being in their company. I could tell she’d never been very happy about it.”

  “So maybe sometimes he took things too far?”

  “Well, remembering my own experience of him, I’m wondering. He was quite a touchy-feely guy. Perhaps he was ‘over-familiar’ with this girl. There was no such thing as Me Too back then. He might not have realised he was doing anything wrong.”

  “But surely being ‘over-familiar’ wouldn’t add up to a court case?”

  “OK, maybe I’m being generous. Maybe there was a bit more to it than that, but he blanked it out of his mind. Who knows? Anyway, this woman probably looked back in the light of what’s been happening in the wider world, and decided to have her say.”

  “Pretty extreme for him to kill himself over it, though.”

  “He must have remembered from last time what it was like to be accused of this sort of thing. He probably couldn’t stand the thought of having to face it all again.”

  “Guilty until proven innocent?”

  “More or less. And it must be hard when present-day values are applied to something that happened such a long time ago, when standards were different.”

  “Purists would argue that he still had to answer for his actions.”

  “Yeah, well he can’t now, can he?”

  It was difficult to think of any way to respond to that, so I said nothing for a moment. Then I commented, “It’s pretty bloody ironical that if he hadn’t been wrongly accused of killing Rob Openshaw, his name wouldn’t have been in the press, and this woman would probably never have come forward.”

  “That’s what’s so unfair about all this.”

  “Of course, you could look on that another way.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Just suppose for a minute that the unimaginable had happened, and Graham’s book had hit the big time.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, presumably his name would have started popping up in the media, and this woman might have read about him. So even if he’d never been arrested for Rob Openshaw’s murder, she still might have been reminded of what happened all those years ago. She still might have spoken out – and Graham would have brought it on himself.”

  Sam mulled over this for a moment, then said, “But realistically, how likely was it that his book would be that successful?”

  “Very unlikely, I suspect. It just isn’t good enough.”

  “There you go then.”

  “OK, you could argue that in his heart he knew he’d never see his name in lights. But he had to hope, didn’t he? We all do.”

  “So you’re saying be careful what you wish for?”

  “No, that’s not my point.” I paused. “The clincher for me is that he put his own name to his book. He didn’t publish it under a pseudonym. In other words, being identified wasn’t an issue for him.”

  She said, “You’re saying he truly didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong with this girl, so he had no reason to hide his identity.”

  “Well, it’s one way of looking at things. It’s something to cling to, isn’t it?”

  Chapter 88

  Nick Hathaway’s sister Maddy looked uncannily like Samantha. It was the first thing that struck me when I saw her. Her hair was mid-brown, not blonde, but she wore it in the same short style, and she had the same slim figure and slightly gamin appearance.

  My route to meeting her was an unexpected one. Jess phoned me out of the blue, asking if I would accompany her to a memorial service for Dan Risby. “I feel I should go, but I’ll be completely out of my depth with these people. I don’t know any of them. You’ve rubbed shoulders with them – you can give me a bit of moral support.”

  If anything I’d crossed swords with them, I reflected, not rubbed shoulders; but I simply said, “Why is this happening so long after Dan died?”

  “Apparently there was a delay releasing his body because of the suicide, so there was just a perfunctory funeral at the time, and his parents went back to Australia. They live there now. It’s taken all this time for the family to organise a more elaborate ceremony.”

  “So there were doubts about Dan’s death right from the start?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Is Sam going to the service?”

  “No, I asked her, but she says she’s had enough of these people for the time being. I don’t blame her.” She hesitated, then added in a slightly impish tone, “Knowing your interest in all this, I thought you might enjoy being a fly on the wall.”

  So a few mornings later I found myself sitting next to Jessica in a church in Banbury. After the service the congregation drifted down the road to a town centre hotel, and on the way I asked Jess, “What’s happening about the Chilworth Fields project?”

  She gave me a triumphant grin. “Cancelled! So my firm is off the hook – and no penalty charges.”

  “Is that because of Dan Risby’s environmental survey?”

  “Partly, yes, but I suspect that the backers just feel the whole project is tainted. Without Nick hassling them, I think they’ve decided to put the whole thing on the back burner – probably forever.”

  “That’s good news for you, then.”

  “Yeah. All we have to do now is battle with all the other problems in the retail sector. If we can build up our online sales quickly enough, we might survive. We’ll see.”

  We made our way into the hotel, which was really a glorified pub, and found that the party had spread itself between two slightly cramped lounge bars. While we queued for drinks in one of them Jess leaned towards me confidentially. “Guess what,” she said in a low voice. “I was talking to an old friend of Dan’s just before we went into the church, and he told me in confidence that the police are looking into Dan’s death again. This guy seems to have an inside track on it, and I think you’re entitled to know.”

  “So they believe now that he might have been murdered?”

  She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Best if I don’t say a lot in present company, but according to him they’re not ruling it out.”

  Actually the hubbub in the bar was already so loud that I could only just hear h
er myself. I said, “You mean someone faked the drug overdose?”

  “Exactly. And get this – he reckons they’re focusing on Nick Hathaway. They think he may have made contact with organised crime in Birmingham – looking for someone to set it up.”

  “So they regard this as a contract killing?”

  “Huh! That’s one way of describing it, I suppose. But Dan’s friend thinks they might never get round to proving it. Too long ago and too little evidence – and in any case, the prime suspect is dead. So the case might end up being left open.”

  “Better than the uncompromising suicide verdict, anyway.”

  In due course Jess and I became separated, and I glanced around to find someone else to talk to. There was no sign of Gary Hobbs, which was a relief, but I spotted Neil Wardell of Landsholme Surveyors. He greeted me with genuine warmth as I made my way over to him. “I see you survived Nick Hathaway’s onslaught unscathed,” he said.

  “Just about.” I gave him a complicit smile. “Actually it was while Nick’s fiancée Samantha was looking for a print-out of that survey report that he kidnapped her. That was how we both ended up getting locked in that cellar in Rugby.”

  “My god.” His eyes widened. “So I’m the one who brought all this on you?”

  “Kind of. But I’m not holding you to account, I assure you.”

  “That’s a relief.” He gave me a wry look.

  “What happened about the veto by Hathaways on giving your firm any more work?”

  “Lifted overnight.” He flicked his fingers. “It was as if it had never happened.”

  “I’m pleased for you.”

  “You and me both. And we also had a call from Cavenham Risby yesterday. Things seem to have gone back to normal.”

  * * *

  It was after Neil drifted off that Maddy introduced herself. She squeezed her way across the room, clutching a glass of wine. “You’re Mike, aren’t you?” she said as she approached. “The one who was trapped under that building when Nick was killed? I’m his sister, Maddy.”

  Close up, I could see that she was several years older than Sam, but the likeness was quite unsettling. She had the same facial type, and there was even a similar pitch to her voice. Could Nick have had a fixation with his sister, and transferred it to someone who looked like her?

  A little awkwardly I said, “Sorry, yes. I hope you don’t feel I’m intruding, coming here today.”

  “Not in the slightest. If anyone should be doing any apologising, it’s me, for what Nick did.”

  “I can hardly hold you responsible for his actions.”

  She looked me over. “So are you all right now? No lasting injuries after what happened to you?”

  “I’m fine thanks, and so is Samantha.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it.”

  There was an awkward silence. To break it, I said, “Were you and Nick close?”

  “All our lives. Whether it was business or affairs of the heart, I was the one who helped him through it. He did the same for me.”

  I found it hard to imagine Nick showing that kind of empathy, but I wasn’t about to question it. I was intrigued that she was being so forthcoming. I said, “This must be hard for you, then.”

  “Hard? Yes, but what he did to you and Samantha was unforgivable. I never saw anything like that coming.” She took a sip of wine. “I kept telling him he should be talking to her more. If they’d been closer, he never would have turned on her like that.”

  “You think he relied too much on you?”

  She raised her eyebrows and gave a brittle laugh. “I don’t think I care to analyse his motivations just at the moment – or mine.”

  Quickly I said, “No, of course not.”

  I wondered for a moment if I’d pushed her too far, but then she surprised me. “Nick was a person of sudden enthusiasms,” she said. “Some of them lasted weeks or months, others went on for literally years. Whatever the subject, once he locked on to it, he wouldn’t let go – until he did. Then it was as if it had never happened at all.” She paused. “Maybe in the end, that was how things went with Samantha.”

  For a moment neither of us spoke, but she seemed in no hurry to end the conversation. I sensed an opportunity. “Changing the subject,” I said, “am I right in thinking you knew Rob Openshaw?”

  Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Rob? Yes, he was a family friend. Such a shame, the way he died. This really has been a terrible year.” She gave me a slightly wary look. “Why do you ask?”

  “He ran a book promotion service, and I was planning to use it. Somewhere along the line I must have heard that Nick knew him in the past.” I attempted an innocent smile.

  She nodded, still looking unsettled.

  I said, “How did you meet him, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  This seemed to be more comfortable territory for her. She said, “We knew Rob through my uncle Gerry. He ran a publishing business, and lived in a flat over his office in Chelsea. We used to visit him when we were kids, and Rob worked there. We sometimes went downstairs to bother him, but he didn’t seem to mind. Nick really liked him.”

  So Sam had been almost exactly right when she’d guessed at the family connection. Cautiously I said, “I don’t know if Nick told you, but earlier this year he considered investing in Rob’s business.”

  “As a matter of fact he did tell me. He was going to do it for old time’s sake.”

  I decided to take a chance. I said, “But then he changed his mind.” Nobody knew this for a fact, but it seemed a good moment to test out the theory.

  Her eyes flickered again, and this time she hesitated. Finally she said, “Look, I think you probably know what’s at the back of all this. Am I right?”

  “I’m not sure. What are you getting at?”

  She looked me straight in the eye. “I knew about you all along, Mike. Nick told me about you when he first got to know Samantha. He was jealous of you, basically. He hated the idea that she should still be in touch with someone from her past life.”

  “But there was nothing between us.”

  “Well, Nick thought there was.”

  For a moment I was tempted to protest, but I forced myself to stick to the matter in hand. I said, “So how does this relate to Rob Openshaw?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it? When Nick heard that you’d paid Rob to promote your book, he withdrew the offer to invest in his business. He did it quite simply to spite you.” She sighed. “He could be very petty sometimes.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re telling me he seriously thought Rob’s efforts would make a significant difference to my book sales?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose he wasn’t taking any chances.”

  I continued to stare at her. “And he told you this himself?”

  She nodded guiltily. “He needed a sounding board, and he probably didn’t want to talk to Samantha about it in case your name came up. I suppose in hindsight I might have done something to change his mind, but why would I? After all, I didn’t know you then, and I hadn’t seen Rob for years.” She lifted her hands in mute appeal.

  For a moment I could scarcely think of a suitable response. Not only had she confirmed the theory that Nick had withdrawn his investment in Rob’s business; she’d also told me that I’d been the cause of his sudden change of heart. It was a lot to take in.

  I probably shouldn’t have continued, but before I knew it I was saying, “Rob was going to spend Nick’s money on buying up a rival business. When Nick pulled the plug, the plan fell through, and the owner of this other company flew into a rage. There was some sort of fight, and Rob was injured. He never recovered.”

  “You’re not going to put this on Nick! There was no way he could have known that was going to happen.”

  “No, of course not. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  I wondered if I’d finally pushed her patience too far, but she gave a sigh of resignation. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know w
hy I’m making excuses for my brother. He was a fool to himself, and he brought all these ills on his own head.”

  I smiled awkwardly. “I’m sure that doesn’t make this any easier to live with.”

  She glanced over my shoulder. “There’s my husband beckoning,” she said. “I think we’re about to head home.”

  “Thanks for being so frank. I appreciate it.”

  She gave me a nod of acknowledgement and started to edge her way across the room, then turned back to me. “It was a terrible thing that Nick did to you, but he certainly paid for it. And d’you know what – I still wish I could have him back: the Nick I remember, that is.”

  I watched her go, reflecting on what she’d just told me. In effect, I now knew it was indirectly because of me that Rob Openshaw had been murdered. Simply by booking my promotion with him, I’d triggered most of this mess myself. If Nick hadn’t cancelled his investment in order to spite me, Simon Curtis would never have turned up at Openshaw’s house in a fit of rage – and he wouldn’t be lying in hospital now, fighting for his own life.

  By the same token, Graham Bulwell would never have been arrested, and he too would in all probability still be alive.

  Right from the start, it had all been about me.

  Chapter 89

  “How about meeting for lunch?” Sam sounded upbeat. “Say yes.”

  Immediately I was smiling to myself. I said, “I’m working at London Bridge today. Where are you?”

  “Covent Garden! Not a million miles away. How about eating at one of those places on the South Bank?”

  We met at the foot of Hungerford bridge and headed off along the embankment. Winter was closing in, and our breath swirled in the air as we walked. To our left, the Thames looked grey and troubled. To our right, the confident concrete lines of the Festival Hall rose above us – one of the finer legacies of London’s postwar building boom.

  I recounted what I’d learned at Dan’s memorial service earlier in the week. I concluded, “I’m afraid everything comes back to Nick Hathaway and his obsession with you and me – even his decision to cancel his investment in Rob Openshaw.”