The Late Greats

by Nick Quantrill

  I think I got the point. ‘You’re not causing me any trouble.’ I smiled at her. ‘In fact, I quite like it.’

  I stepped outside the bar to return Major’s call. It had to be done. He wanted to meet me immediately. He gave me the address of where he was eating, a fish restaurant close to his office in the city centre. I knew the place. I terminated the call, went back inside, made my apologies and left. When I arrived, I found Major sat by himself at the back of the room. He was surrounded by paperwork. He looked knackered. He poured himself a shot of whiskey before offering me the bottle. The restaurant wasn’t busy. They seemed happy to indulge him.

  He asked me what I’d done throughout the day. I gave him a brief rundown of who I’d spoken to and explained how I hadn’t seemingly made much headway.

  ‘What are the police saying?’ he asked me.

  ‘Not a lot at the moment.’

  Major poured another drink. Handed me one. ‘It needs sorting. For the sake of his parents.’

  I wasn’t buying it. ‘Cut the shit. How badly did you want this reunion?’ I asked.

  He smiled, turned away from me.

  ‘It doesn’t seem like Tasker or Priestley particularly wanted to go through with it.’ I swallowed the whiskey. ‘I think they were doing it for you.’

  Major shrugged. ‘I’m touched.’

  ‘Did you have to force them?’

  Major turned to face me. ‘How could I force them?’

  ‘You can be very persuasive when you need to be.’

  Major stared at me, like he was weighing me up. ‘I’m surprised your mouth doesn’t get you into more trouble.’

  ‘I say it as I see it.’

  Major raised his glass and saluted me. ‘I like that, PI. It’s why you’re so important to me.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘Take it however you want to.’

  ‘You seem to be the one who was pushing for the reunion. There’d have been a lot of money in it for you. Assuming you didn’t all argue, because when people argue, things happen. Accidents.’

  ‘Doesn’t have to be about the money’ he said.

  I laughed. ‘Come on.’

  He stared at me, took the bait. ‘Are you saying I killed him, PI?’

  I said nothing. I was close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.

  ‘Why would I kill Greg?’ he said, filling the silence. He knocked back his whiskey. Calm now. ‘Alright, I’m skint. I’ve lost out on some bad property investments in London, but who hasn’t at the moment? I needed the reunion to get myself back on an even keel.’ He poured himself another drink and knocked it back in one. He pointed at me. ‘They owe me. I made them what they are. Without me, they were nothing. Reforming to play a few gigs was the least they could do for me. Why would I kill Greg? I needed him alive.’

  I swallowed my drink. ‘Greg was supposed to be your friend’ I eventually said. ‘You knew he’d struggled under the pressure of the band, yet you were prepared to put him back in that situation just for your own financial benefit? Some friend you were.’

  Major stared at me and wiped his eyes before throwing the last of the whiskey into his glass. ‘I was trying to help him.’ He stood up. ‘I think he was involved with some bad people.’

  Fuck’s sake. I didn’t want to hear it, but asked anyway. ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think he was worried about something, just a feeling I got.’ He was pointing at me. ‘Maybe you should be looking into that, because that’s what I pay you to do.’

  He was hardly giving me breaking news. A waiter brought out his food. I stood up and left. The man made me sick.

  I left my car in the city centre and walked back to my flat. I needed the fresh air. I was angry with Major. Maybe Don was right. It felt like I was pushing my luck for nothing. What good could come from this situation? Maybe the police should be left to it? I thought about Tasker’s parents. They needed me to carry on. I ignored the shouts of the drunks as I walked home, head down through the rain. As I passed a takeaway, a teenager threw a chip at my head, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t care. Into my flat, I changed out of my wet clothes and put on an old tracksuit and T-shirt. It was getting late, but I wasn’t tired now. I flicked through the pile of CDs and put on some early Dylan. I wanted to hear a man with his guitar and nothing else. I wanted it to be sparse and desolate. I wanted to hear the honesty of the music. I found a can of lager in the fridge. Last one. I sat upright when the street-level buzzer went on my door. I checked the time. It had gone midnight. I walked over to the intercom and asked who it was.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Julia said back to me.

  I swallowed the last mouthful of lager and released the lock. Tomorrow was another day. ‘Come on up’ I said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I woke to the smell of coffee and warm toast. Julia placed my breakfast on the bedside unit. She was wearing one of my old T-shirts.

  ‘Best I could do’ she said. ‘You should try shopping once in a while.’

  ‘Normally I have fresh juice and croissants with a selection of conserves available.’ I sat up. ‘Sometimes you run out, you know how it is.’

  She laughed and got back into bed after turning the television on. ‘Is it always this cold in your flat?’

  I said it was, between mouthfuls of toast. ‘Storage heaters. They’ll kick in soon.’

  ‘They best do.’ She pulled the duvet up to her neck.

  I put the plate down and thanked her. It’d been a long time since someone had made me breakfast in bed.

  The news was covering Tasker’s death. The report went to a pre-recorded interview with a tired looking DI Robinson, who urged anybody with any information to come forward. I felt as tired as he looked. We’d spent several hours the previous night listening to the tapes of Julia’s recent interview with Tasker. The interview had been wide-ranging, starting from the day he met Priestley, his happiness as the band took off, his difficulty with drugs and the eventual split, through to his thoughts on the imminent reunion. I could have cried as his voice filled the room, his death adding poignancy to his words. Julia had let me burn a copy so I could listen to it again. I reached for my mobile and called Major’s number. I listened to the voicemail message.

  ‘He’s gone to down London for a couple of days on business’ I said to Julia, killing the call without leaving a message. ‘He’s done a runner.’ I threw my mobile onto the bed. Fuck’s sake. I should have known from Major’s manner that something was amiss. It wasn’t a clever move. The police were bound to take a closer look at Tasker’s flat. If the police knew about the break-in, they’d be coming for me next.

  She put her mug down. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over it. He’s manipulated far more intelligent people than you.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  I told her I wasn’t doing this for Major. I was doing it for Tasker’s parents. But I didn’t like being used, or being left to face the music. I checked my emails on my mobile. Sarah hadn’t had any luck getting an address for Rusting yet. I looked at the television as the reporter moved onto the sports news. Julia killed the television and checked her mobile. She said she had to go. The story was moving. ‘Don’t beat yourself up, Joe. You’ve done nothing wrong, so nothing changes. You told Greg’s parents you’d help them, so if I was you, I’d stop feeling sorry for myself, grab a shower, and go see them.’

  Once Julia had left my flat, I took her advice and headed for Tasker’s parent’s house. At first Keith Tasker would only open the door as far as the safety chain allowed. Once he realised it was me, he let me through. He looked awful. I sat down in the front room and asked him how he was doing.

  ‘Muddling along’ he said. ‘I don’t really want to talk to people at the moment. I know they mean well, but it’s too soon.’

  ‘It’s understandable.’

  He disappeared into the kitchen to make us drinks. I took the opportunity to have another look
around the room. The first condolence card stood on the mantelpiece. I picked it up and read it before carefully placing it back where I found it.

  He walked back in and passed me my drink. I thanked him. ‘Where’s Kath?’ I asked.

  ‘She’s in bed. The doctor gave her something to help her sleep.’

  ‘How are you coping?’ I asked.

  He sat down in the chair opposite me. He looked like he’d aged ten years since I’d last seen him. ‘I’m carrying on. I have to. Lots to be arranged.’ He passed me a key to his son’s flat. ‘You might be needing that.’

  I took it and drank a mouthful of coffee. Major had lied to me. He’d told me Tasker’s parents didn’t have a key. I pushed the thought to one side and tried to find the right words. I repeated what I’d told him before; I wanted to help. I owed them that much. I told him that Major had left the city without telling anyone.

  ‘Does that mean Kane was involved in Greg’s death?’

  I’d thought this over last night as I walked back to my flat from the restaurant. I still didn’t have an answer. ‘I don’t know.’ It was the truth. As he’d said, he needed Greg alive. But I couldn’t get past the question of why run? ‘He told me he didn’t kill Greg’ I said.

  ‘He can’t of’ he said to me. ‘He was Greg’s best friend and he’s been a friend of the family for years. It doesn’t make any sense to me.’

  ‘Do you think he was capable of killing him?’ I asked.

  He considered the question. ‘I wouldn’t have said so a few days ago, but we’re dealing with reality. It’s not hypothetical, is it? I’m sure most of us could kill if we’re pushed hard enough.’

  I had nothing to say to that. I knew it was true. I moved us on. ‘Did Greg ever mention Kane’s financial situation to you?’

  ‘Never. It wasn’t something we’d talk about. It wasn’t any of my business, I suppose.’

  ‘Have the police spoken to you today?’ I asked.

  ‘Not really. To be honest, they haven’t really told us an awful lot, but I suppose that’s for operational reasons. There must be things they’re simply not prepared to tell us. I can’t say I’ve pushed them. I don’t think we could bear it if they told us something unpleasant about Greg’s death. It would be too much to cope with.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘They did tell us we should sever our ties with you. Let them get on with things.’

  I wasn’t surprised. ‘I won’t be obstructing the police’ I said. I didn’t intend to, but I wouldn’t be giving DI Robinson and his team an easy ride, either. I’d make sure every lead I generated was followed up as necessary. ‘Did you see the news this morning?’

  ‘I did.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose it’s too much to ask them to respect our privacy, isn’t it?’

  ‘Have they bothered you?’

  ‘They’ve been ringing, asking us to give our side of the story. You can imagine the whole tawdry business. I’ve had their numbers blocked, but I doubt it’ll stop them.’

  ‘I know a journalist. Would you like me to see what I can do?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not at the moment, thanks.’

  It was his decision. ‘I know we’ve spoken before about it, but is there anything else you can think of that will help me? What did Greg do with his days? Have you any idea? I’m not getting very far with working it out.’

  ‘I’m ashamed to say I have no idea. It wasn’t something we discussed. He led his life how he saw fit and that was the end of it.’

  ‘I’m just trying to build a picture. Had he said or done anything unusual recently? Anything at all?’

  ‘Greg spoke to me last week, which was a little unusual in itself. There was no problem between us, but we just didn’t usually speak about what was going on his life. It was his way. He told me he wasn’t very happy with things. His relationship with Siobhan wasn’t great and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. I told him he should do whatever felt right. What else could I say? I’ve been married for over forty years. What would I know about what goes on these days? Siobhan’s a lovely girl, but the fact of the matter is she’s a lot younger than Greg. I suspect they wanted different things from life, which is perfectly understandable. It was difficult to know what to say. It might have been nothing, just one of those rough patches that blows over.’

  ‘I’ve met Siobhan’ I said.

  ‘At her boutique?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Greg set her up there.’

  ‘So I understand.’

  ‘What was strange about our conversation was that Greg told me he had some big news for us. It was strange because he normally just told us what he wanted to tell us, and that was it, conversation over. I got the feeling that this time our opinion counted for something, that it was something important to him.’

  He had my attention. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said he’d tell us next time he saw us, once he’d made his mind up about whatever it was.’

  ‘He never said?’

  He shook his head. ‘And I suppose we’ll never know now.’

  Julia had left me a message whilst I’d been talking to Keith Tasker. Michael Rusting, the engineer from Tasker’s studio, had called her newspaper. He said he had a story for her. Julia wanted to see him immediately. I collected Julia and we drove to the drab looking council flat Rusting lived in. Tasker’s studio can’t have paid well. Julia took the lead and knocked on his front-door. I recognised him when he opened the door. Julia introduced herself and confirmed we were from the newspaper. He invited us in. ‘Nice to see you again’ I said. A dog sat on the settee, but it ran away as soon as Rusting raised his voice.

  ‘Might as well make yourselves at home’ he said, indicating we should sit.

  ‘You’re not an easy man to find’ I said.

  ‘I’ve not been hiding’ he said.

  Julia set up her recorder. ‘Thanks for agreeing to speak to us, Mr Rusting.’ She passed him a cheque. ‘As we agreed’ she said.

  He put it in his pocket. ‘All helps.’

  ‘Didn’t even get as much as a thank you off the police when I gave my statement’ he said. ‘So I might as well make some money from it, know what I mean? I haven’t got a job now, so I need some money from somewhere.’

  ‘Your statement?’ I said.

  ‘I found Greg at the studio’ he said.

  I asked him to repeat what he’d just said.

  ‘I found him.’ He offered us drinks, but we both quickly refused.

  ‘Why didn’t you report it to the police?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Not straightaway.’

  Rusting looked panicked. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I went there after you did and found Greg. I rang the police.’

  Rusting stood. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  I was on my feet. ‘You don’t have a choice now.’ I turned to Julia. She obviously knew what he was going to say. I let it go. Rusting sat back down. I did the same. ‘Why didn’t you ring the police?’

  ‘I didn’t want the hassle.’

  ‘The hassle? He was dead.’

  ‘Exactly. There was nothing I could do for him.’

  ‘Not good enough.’

  ‘I’ve got a criminal record.’ He looked away from me. ‘I didn’t want the hassle’ he repeated.

  ‘So you thought you’d leave it?’

  ‘It wasn’t just that’ he said. ‘I saw these blokes leaving, they didn’t look like good news, so I hung back, made sure they didn’t see me.’

  I rubbed my face. This changed things. ‘How did you know they weren’t good news?’ I asked.

  ‘I just got a vibe off them, like they weren’t to be messed with. I didn’t even know Greg was in there, he hadn’t told me he was coming back. I thought they might have been robbing the place.’

  ‘What happened after you saw them come out?’

  ‘They got into a car and drove away.’

  ‘What kind of c
ar?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was too dark to see.’

  ‘Colour?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He stared at me. ‘I thought I was talking to her about my story. For the newspaper.’

  ‘Once we’re done’ I said, staring back at him, weighing up whether or not he was holding something back. I decided he probably wasn’t. ‘Did you hear them speak?’ I asked him. ‘Were they local?’

  ‘I wasn’t close enough. They were arguing amongst themselves, though.’

  ‘What did they look like?’

  He hesitated, started to say something, but changed his mind. ‘It was too dark.’ He at least looked embarrassed by the lack of detail he’d remembered. ‘Just average.’

  ‘What did you do once they’d gone?’

  ‘I went into the studio, found Greg on the floor. I could tell he was dead straightaway. It was obvious, so I ran. I called the police once I’d had a drink and settled my nerves.’ He shrugged. ‘What choice did I have?’

  I nodded to Julia. It was her turn.

  Rusting gave us no more. I dropped Julia off at her hotel. Having a witness changed things, even if the witness hadn’t supposedly seen a great deal. I needed to know what the police were doing. I walked into the reception area of Queens Gardens Police Station. I didn’t like the place. It was dull and grey. Institutionalised. The desk sergeant told me DI Robinson wasn’t available. I stood my ground and insisted. A couple of youngsters waited in bolted down chairs. They soon got bored of staring at me and went back to whispering and laughing at each other. Eventually, Robinson’s assistant, the one I’d given my statement to, made herself available.

  ‘What can we do for you, Mr Geraghty?’ she said.

  ‘I understand you’ve got a witness.’

  She looked angry. She walked back to the reception desk, pressed the release button on the door. ‘In here.’

  I followed her down the corridor and into an empty interview room.

  ‘How do you know about the witness?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s spoken to the media. You can read all about it tomorrow.’