It took more than one attempt to get through to the taxi office. Busy time of the day. Late Saturday afternoon. When he did he was told he would have to wait. No choice. Not so much too far to walk, with no other commitments, but take too long. He had asked people in for about eight, and had necessary shopping and some internal arrangements to make before anyone arrived. He leant against the back of the ticket office and waited, with an eye fixed on the only road in. As a result, just before the cab came, he was taken by surprise by a tap on his shoulder. It was Grant.
“Glad I caught you. Thought you would have gone by now. Sat with Bannister as long as I needed. He’s going to go over some things again with them before starting to arrange any follow-ups with others. Got all I want. Interested?”
“For sure.”
“The Dog and Duck is only across the road. I’ll buy you a drink, you deserve one, and I’ll tell you what they had to say. Come on.”
“One moment, sir.” Simon put his head into the office, handed in a five pound note which might, just might, manage to feature on a future claims form and, asking them to turn away the taxi with his apologies, put thoughts of party preparation out of his mind and followed his leader to learn of the latest turn in events.
It was still his day.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Saturday, after the Show was over
“When we arrived, there was no sign of them. I feared the worst. Thought they’d hopped it, and you were right. We’d let our chance slip.” So began Grant’s account as they settled into a quiet corner of the little-occupied bar of the Dog and Duck. The homeward bound did not clock in on Saturdays. The customers would come later, drinking on into the small hours. The landlord, having bolstered his licence application by installing CCTV cameras, didn’t reckon they were worth activating for the sober two chatting together. He would keep a closer eye on groups as the night wore on.
“They did turn up, though.”
“Yes. I needn’t have worried. Andrew’s men had the clocking-out procedure well buttoned up by the time we joined them. Harriday and Charles had already registered, and were waiting nearby. Relaxed enough.”
“Was the wait worth it?”
“For them, or us?” Simon grinned.
“For us. Could they add anything to the story that we didn’t already know?”
“I think so. Let me tell you, and you be the judge. Cheers!”
“Thank you, sir,” and Yale raised his glass. Whether to his Super or to success depended on what was to follow.
“I took the lead for starters. Gave them my little speech about ‘being on the trail’, ‘new evidence coming to light’, and led up to the time immediately before Ambrose had come in through the competitors’ entrance at about seven o’clock this morning. After my first question, I left it to Bannister. Give him his due, he’d caught up pretty fast.”
“Thanks to Anna Goldey’s notes.”
“Yes. Even so, he showed he’d absorbed them pretty quickly. Anyway, I asked first if either of them could recall seeing Ambrose Graveney near that door. Harriday was prompt with his reply. No hesitation or sign of any concern. Stuck to what he’s told you. ‘No’, he said, ‘not that I can remember. But then, it was an awful crush.’”
“We know that much. Did you believe him? If what Anna told you is correct, and don’t forget Janice’s evidence, he must have seen the man.”
“Said ‘no’ to my question, so I let it ride and handed over to Andrew. He took him along. Asked him to describe the scene as he, Bannister, was so newly arrived and unaware of how things went. Harriday went into a bit of a rant. Some of these people are so slow! Old age pensioners who should have retired long ago many of them. Amateurs. Get in the way. Trundle along like zombies. No idea how to get on with things. That sort of thing.”
“Seems in character, from what Brian said. Maybe he included Brian in his OAP harangue.”
“Certainly included Ambrose. He was specific. ‘Slow’, he repeated, ‘like that old queer Graveney. Too precious by half. As bad as the women. Muttering about others getting in the way of their little darlings in their pretty trolleys. He was consistent, though. At the gate, on the way in, he had not noticed Graveney.”
“He saw him in the car park? He agreed that? I take it Bannister spotted that in my notes.”
“Yes, Andrew was on to it. Led to the first sign of hesitation in the man. X3, by the way, kept an impassive face and said nothing. Andrew was aware, of course, of the sensitivity of dealing with a foreign national. He didn’t want the American Embassy putting pressure on his career development.”
“Bit unkind, sir.”
“Observation. Not criticism. He’s a good officer. Quick on his feet. Harriday, as I say, took a little time before replying, then admitted to having had ‘a few words’ with Ambrose as they unloaded. He made a snide remark about Ambrose taking a long time to get his ‘one perishing dog’ from travelling crate to trolley – no love lost there, but this, too, we know by now – but insisted it was no more than a greeting. ‘We have little in common’ he said.”
There was a pause as Grant, of necessity, and Yale for pleasure, supped ale. The Super went on, refreshed.
“Bannister was onto that one too. He made the point that they had dog shows in common and, more especially, were in competition with each other in the Toy Terrier rings. Harriday acknowledged that but went on to say: ‘Put it that way, Inspector, then yes, I did. Just that, though, and his Roley is no threat to my Triggo. Wouldn’t have troubled me today. No cause for murder there, I can assure you’, and he laughed as though at the stupidity of the very idea.”
“A slip there? What if Triggo was not the one named on the entry form?”
“Pushing your ringer theory! That can be checked later. Andrew changed tack and, most politely, asked X3 if he had any objection to answering a few questions. Charles affirmed there was none, so Bannister opened with: ‘What of you, Mr Charles? Were you with Mr Harriday at that time. Did you know the deceased or recognise him?’”
“A bit generous with that question, wasn’t he? Gave X3 a straight way out. Didn’t know, wouldn’t recognise.”
“That was my immediate thought, but he answered happily enough along the lines that he might well have recognised him from Dogs Talk. He told us he was an overseas subscriber if you remember.” Yale nodded.
“X3 seemed to want to expand. He said that Graveney had been photographed in the mag a number of times in relation to his work for the Kennel Club, and Kem had spoken of him. In one of their internet chats presumably. Harriday looked displeased at that. He rushed in with a ‘magazine photographs aren’t always flattering or even lifelike’ with a dismissive snort.”
“Some tension, then?”
“That was my impression. Bannister pressed the point. To X3. ‘You saw Ambrose then, this morning?’ Harriday was distinctly frowning by now, and Charles seemed to come to heel. ‘No. Not me,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t there. Not actually showing. No need to be so early.’ ‘So’, went on Andrew, ‘you came in through the public entrance?’ There was a definite pause at this. I took the next bit down as verbatim as I could.” Grant opened once more his well-used note book and began to read. Simon was impressed. Did the man’s range of skills include shorthand?
“Well, no, it’s like this Lootenant”, X3 began. Grant wondered if he was playing the stage Yank for fun. “I must put my hands up and hope you don’t arrest Kem, but I got in as a helper. Spare ticket Kem had. Came in the competitors’ entrance.”
“At the same time?” This from Bannister. “In separate cars?” They nodded. Grant noticed a nervous fidget, he was sure it was such, from Charles who went on to elaborate.
“I’ve got a hired car. Best to come with him, and get in early. Easier parking. Car lot’s far too small. You should see the one in Philadelphia.”
Simon was following every reported exchange closely. He had to break in at this point.
“Why didn’t X3 help Harriday t
o carry stuff in? If he was there, officially at least, as a helper, why sit in his car while Harriday did all the work? And wouldn’t he have seen the meeting with Graveney?”
“Bannister asked that,” was Grant’s reply. “Harriday’s reply that he was a big boy, well used to the procedures, so that he had no need of any assistance to get himself and his dog into the Hall. He affirmed that he told X3 to stay in the car and come in later when things were underway.”
“Charles came early, then, only to secure a place in the car park.”
“So he insisted.”
“A bit unnecessary, wasn’t it? If he had no role to play in the unloading he could have come along later, at a more sensible hour. Others have to park then, so could he. A bit further to walk but not critical.”
“Now it’s your three-way gang theory coming up! I can only tell you what he said. The reason he gave. Anyway, what would the three have been up to? Hardly a school prank.”
“Something Ambrose was on to. Ringer, manipulated judge. Something. I’ve got no further, though, than what I said as we walked over to Trott’s enclave. Brian was well placed, in that next bench, to cover things up. Did Andrew get anything more out of them?”
“He tried hard. The ‘recall any detail however minor’ routine, but, so far as I got a feeling for things, neither wanted to spend any longer under the microscope than was necessary. Bannister will, I’m sure, want to see them again. I’ve already said that haven’t I? I left him at that point, so not quite sure how much longer he kept them.”
“He’ll want to explore those stories further, I agree, as well as re-run your conversations with the Bichon pair and Anna.”
Grant nodded a firm agreement.
“Certainly. That’s where the main discrepancy lies. Twixt their tales. Who did or did not see Ambrose at the door.”
“Or who will admit to doing so.”
“Exactly.”
Simon felt that he should recharge the glasses, but knowing that Grant was off to collect his car, he made no offer. He also began to wonder about his own timings. Having made the, maybe in the event rash, invitation to people to come, without knowing for sure if any of them could, he had to get some supplies in. ‘Bits and pieces’ sounded simple, but they still had to be got hold of. Also, as Saturday went on, the demand for taxis increased. He was saved by the Super.
“Let me give you a lift home, Simon. Not far out of my way, and we might have a few more ideas as we go. Could even be inspired by a traffic jam.”
“That’s kind. Much appreciated.” He told Grant of the informal party he had rushed to arrange. “A sort of way of saying thank you to my irregulars. Trottsky’s Private Army you might almost call them. Hope they can come. Any chance you could find a few minutes to pop in and do a bit of PR?”
“Might manage it. Have to be careful, though. Our killer might be there. No, “he raised his hand in a silencing not a blessing gesture. “I know your take on the matter. We went through it on the way to the fly ball final. As of yet, I’m still happy to go along with you. Got to give Bannister his head, though, and we don’t know what else he will turn up. That said, I’ll try to make it, if only for a few minutes. Give me a chance, too, to thank those who filled in the ranks today. PR if you will, yet an outside chance that one of them may break down under the emotion of it all and fess up! Now, I wonder if I can find my car this time.” Simon didn’t ask for an explanation of that. He was busy chewing over the interview report he had just been given. In there lay the final brick in his case. Of that he was sure. He would try and put it into place in the short car ride to come, short that is jams permitting. He regretted that they were not bound to pass the pipe-laying roadworks. A long halt there could have provided the time for him to complete his construct.
Grant led the way with customary confidence to where he had left his motor. It was there and, mercifully, not clamped or with a sticker saying ‘Park Not Near The Manager’ on it. He clicked it open, and the two got in. Was there an exclusive barrier to negotiate on the way out? Grant was relieved. No. Trott relied on good manners and due awe to keep strangers from entering his vehicular portals. As he waited to turn out into a steady stream of traffic, the Super spoke to Simon while keeping full eye attention on the passing roar.
“I haven’t mentioned your trio theory to Andrew, but my thirteen directions rather covered it.”
“Did he give that any credence?”
“Said he had grasped some of it from your notes.”
“Cleverer bloke than I thought, then.”
“Ha! As you say. Point is, he was unhappy at my suggesting that the case had been solved and that his task was to prove it.”
“Enough kudos in that for him, surely?”
“Only if we’re right.”
Grant, seeing a gap, pulled smoothly out into the flow, and took the next minute or two to concentrate on wriggling around the busy roundabout that fed all roads leading out of the town centre. This was a dread part of any commuter journey. He wryly reflected that it was about the only part of the local traffic system that hadn’t put in a demand for his scarce resources that morning. The one place where a mere skirmish between cars, or a bump with a lamppost, could bring the whole circus to a halt and instantaneously block up the main through-ways for miles back. He had been spared that. Small comfort! The task done, he re-opened the conversation.
“I did stress our point about a racket in the ring being the most probable cause. Something on the lines of the ringer dog you mentioned. I’m certain he took that on board. The magazine article should settle it, as we keep on saying. And praying.”
“I told you of the trolley in X3’s car. It’s still there. Flat. Folded. No sign of any dog. Why have it? My own hunch is that, if there was a ringer, that’s how it came in”
“Go on.”
“I’ve been thinking about this since our chat at the final. Those in the know all point to something corrupt in the ring. Here’s one way it could have happened. Hear me out. Harriday – let us say it’s him; could be any competitor but he’ll do as a feasible one – Harriday, takes his own trolley from the car park after having spoken to Graveney, and speeds off to the entrance. Seen by some if not all. His normal practice, we are told. Can’t be bothered taking his turn behind all the doddering, over-cautious old age pensioners. Isn’t that how he described them?” Still taking care to keep his eyes on the road, Grant grunted a confirmation.
“What if his trolley was empty? No one could see if there was a dog in it. Nothing strange about that. Those small dog trolleys are fitted with curtains that cover the sides. To spare the dogs stress. Make it all the easier to race along if he had no canine passenger to worry about. Got to the door well in advance of Ambrose, and here I admit I speculate even more, having arranged in the car park to meet him there.”
“What for?”
“Better cover? Could be. In the car park there was much random movement. People exchanging greetings in passing. Too public.”
“More people still at the door.”
“Yes, but in a crush, and concentrating on getting their goods and chattels safely in. I would say that if you had some particularly private matter to exchange, that might, surprisingly I agree but not so odd if you really consider it, be just the place. Harriday and Graveney could have had a shouting match at that point with scarce an eyebrow being raised. Hardly audible in the turmoil.”
“If I give you that, what then? What would the discussion have been about?”
“About the article. To try and put Ambrose off? Ambrose to put pressure on Harriday not to do whatever it was he was planning to do?”
“He must have been planning to kill Graveney. The killer had all the necessary to hand.”
“As a last resort, maybe. Not Plan A. That was more likely a last-ditch attempt to woo, argue, frighten him off. If Ambrose wouldn’t give in, and that would be in keeping with the upright character Brian gave him, then Plan B was to hand. And, again, what a good plac
e to do it. In a pack allowing a simple prod with a small syringe to go unnoticed, even by the victim.”
“I can see it fits together. Still speculation of course.”
“Of course. To complete my scene, Harriday’s trolley was pushed out of sight somewhere – remember, all agree he did not have one when they saw him at the entrance; I don’t suppose Andrew’s had time to get round to that one yet……”
“Not when I was with him.”
“So, trolley out of the way he, Harriday in this version, argues with Graveney, loses the argument, Graveney moves off, time for Plan B. With Graveney close to Anna Goldey, as we’ve been told, Harriday would find it easy to work his hands-free way through to her, make a fuss about taking charge of one of her trolleys, and neatly fix his needle into his target’s neck. Easy then jerk his way with Anna’s trolley into the Hall. Once inside she shoos him off to get his own dog. No problem getting out as no dog with him. Officials only looking at people coming in.”
“Then collects his own. No chance of it being pinched?”
“I don’t think it was unattended. His trolley was empty, yes, to allow for a fast run to the gate. Someone else brought his dog along. Could be a reason for the one in X3’s car.”
“I told Bannister we had this solved. Now you’re muddying the waters. Not pinned it on Harriday either, suitable candidate or not.”
“Only developing my ringer story. The one in the second crate? One pre-fixed with Ms Thorpe? Would explain Jenkins’ sense of something amiss.” Grant drove more slowly.
“How would they, whoever they are, get the wrong dog through the door checks?”
“As easy as any con can ever be. Paper work, correctly completed, for one dog, handed to the officials on entry, having switched the dog. Wouldn’t matter which dog’s details were on those forms so long as the one in the cage matched them. Remember, no photo and no DNA or whatever.”
A Question of Pedigree Page 23