‘I don’t think so. Though, come to think of it, they did talk at one time of setting up a language school together, but nothing came of it, as far as I know. Nothing much came of anything that Neville was involved in, I’m afraid.’
‘There was the book,’ said Healey.
‘But only because I wrote it.’
‘Where was the language school going to be?’ asked Healey. ‘In Reading?’
‘No, Manila. Apparently they’re queuing up to learn English there and the schools that exist aren’t very good. Peter went out a couple of times to talk to people there. Once with Teresa. Mrs Crouch. She had useful connections, apparently.’
‘You wouldn’t know the names of any of the people there, would you?’
‘No, this is years ago, soon after Peter joined the Department.’
‘Does the name Reyes mean anything to you?’
‘Reyes.’ Carter scratched his beard as he repeated the name. ‘Reyes. That does ring a bell. I remember thinking that it meant Kings and wondered what the significance was. Never did find out. But, yes, Reyes. It could well have been to do with the business of the school.’
‘And when Dr Farrell travelled to Manila with Mrs Crouch, did Dr Crouch stay in Reading?’ asked Teague.
‘Yes.’ This time Carter did look at Teague.
‘To look after the daughter, I suppose?’
‘No. They didn’t have a child then. No, I think it was just to save money.’
‘As a matter of interest,’ said Teague, ‘when was the Crouches’ daughter born?’
‘I can’t give you a date. But I suppose it must have been about a year after the school business. After Gia was born, they lost any remaining interest they may have had. The Crouches, that is.’
‘And Dr Farrell?’ asked Healey.
‘You should ask him, but I think he was well out of it.’
‘Did he harbour any resentment, do you think?’
‘He was a bit pissed off, of course. After all, he’d spent quite a lot of money just travelling and it was all down the Swanee. But Peter isn’t one to harbour grudges. He still got on all right with Neville.’
‘Do you know of any other business ventures that Dr Crouch may have undertaken?’ asked Healey.
‘No. He was always hinting that he was onto something big, either in his research or in some venture, as you put it, but I doubt if anything ever came of it. That was Neville. A lot of talk, and no action.’
‘Who’s next?’ asked Healey.
‘LEC,’ replied Carter. ‘Leila El Alaoui-Carter. My wife. I don’t know what I can say about her.’
‘She was a student here, wasn’t she?’ asked Healey.
‘Yes. She did the MA in ELT and then her PhD.’
‘When did you get married?’
‘About a year after she came back to do her PhD.’
Healey nodded and was going to ask about her work in the Department, when Teague broke in, ‘Can I ask you, Dr Carter, when your relationship with your present wife commenced?’
‘Is that relevant?’ Carter looked at Healey, who didn’t respond.
‘It could be,’ said Teague. ‘I realise that it is a rather delicate matter, but if you could just tell us.’ As Teague pronounced the word ‘delicate’ with what seemed like pleasure, Healey saw saliva come to his lips.
‘I can’t see the relevance,’ replied Carter, ‘but if you must know, it was when she came back to do her PhD.’
‘Oh,’ said Teague, ‘not prior to that?’
‘No.’
‘But when she was still a student.’
‘She was a mature woman with a mind of her own. Look, I don’t like the tone of your questions, Sergeant. Nor do I see their relevance.’ He turned to Healey, who again did not respond.
‘I’m only trying to ascertain the facts, sir,’ Teague went on. ‘As to their relevance, you have to let us be the judges of that.’
Carter said nothing, remained motionless, and stared at Teague through his glasses.
Teague continued. ‘So your relationship commenced when your wife was a student. How long had she been back at Reading when this happened?’
Carter did not answer and it was Healey who spoke. ‘All right, Teague, I think we can leave it there. Dr Carter isn’t obliged to answer our questions and he clearly doesn’t want to. I think we can take it that Mrs Carter wasn’t involved.’
Teague made a little pout and snapped his notebook shut. ‘If you say so, sir.’
‘Right, Dr Carter, who does that leave us with?’ asked Healey.
‘Just me.’
‘And you had no difficulties with Dr Crouch, other than with the book, which you have already told us about.’
‘None at all.’
‘And no business dealings with him.’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Well, I think that just about …’ Healey stopped as out of the corner of his eye he became aware of someone in the doorway.
‘Let me introduce my wife,’ said Carter. ‘Leila, this is Chief Inspector Healey. He’s investigating Neville’s death.’
Healey stood up and turned to Mrs Carter and offered his hand, which she took and held for a moment longer than he would have expected. Another very attractive woman, he thought. Tall, almost as tall as Carter he guessed, with long black hair, olive skin, wide set brown eyes, and a full mouth. She wore pendant earrings of lacy silver studded with coral pink and turquoise stones. The low neckline of a simple, loose-weave black dress revealed a generous bosom.
‘Chris, darling,’ she said, showing very white and even teeth, ‘it’s twelve. Time we were off.’
‘We were just going,’ said Healey. ‘Thank you, Dr Carter. You’ve been very helpful.’
Carter gave him a curt nod. Teague, who had remained seated since their arrival, stood up and followed Healey to the door.
‘Nice to meet you, Chief Inspector,’ said Mrs Carter, who came up close to Healey and shook his hand again. The perfume she gave off smelled strongly of some exotic plant that Healey couldn’t place. It contrasted markedly with Carter’s body odour, which had grown stronger during the time they had been with him. Perhaps that’s how she deals with it, thought Healey.
Back in the Hall, while Teague went to headquarters to collect a tape recorder, Healey sat at a table in the incident room and read the report that had arrived on the two printouts of the letter he’d had Carter word process for him. As far as could be told, and the report was very tentative, the one that most resembled the original letter was the one that had been done on Crouch’s printer. So what did that mean? Had Crouch written the letter himself? If so, why? Healey was pondering these questions when he realised that Farrell was standing beside him.
‘Oh, hello there,’ he said. ‘Didn’t see you come in.’
‘You did seem engrossed. Have you got a moment?’
‘Yes, sure.’
‘About this morning. You asked about a row I was supposed to have had with Neville. Well, I think I know what it must have been that you heard about. It wasn’t a row at all. Just a disagreement. You know how we have rooms in hall, even though we live nearby. That’s the way the BC, the British Council, set it up. On a lot of their courses tutors do need accommodation and so rooms are booked on all courses as a matter of routine. What Neville wanted was to give up his room and be then paid what the Council saved. He said they were benefiting from him having a house nearby and so shouldn’t mind paying him what they’d already budgeted for anyhow. He asked the same question last year and they said no. He wanted me to ask again and I said I wouldn’t. They’d only say no again, and I’d just look stupid. He persisted and I suppose I was a bit sharp with him. But that’s all there was to it. I didn’t think about it this morning, it was such a small thing. I hope that’s okay.’
Healey nodded. ‘Thanks. I’m sorry if we gave you a bit of a hard time.’
‘That’s all right. I understand perfectly. You’ve got a job to d o.’
&nbs
p; ‘I’ve actually got another question for you.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Well, you said you’d had no financial dealings with Dr Crouch, didn’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What about the language school you were planning to set up with him in Manila?’
‘Oh that.’ Farrell seemed somewhat taken aback and hesitated before continuing. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have mentioned that. Yes, we did have that idea but it never got anywhere. There were no financial dealings as such.’
‘But you went to the Philippines?’
‘Yes.’
‘That must have cost quite a bit.’
‘Yes, but I was able to claim against income tax. And Neville didn’t pay anything.’
‘Except for Mrs Crouch, of course.’
‘Of course.’
Despite Farrell’s tan, Healey saw his face redden slightly. Clearly a sensitive matter but not one he would pursue now. ‘Have you thought any more about that list with PF at the top that we showed you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I have. I don’t have an answer, but whatever PF stands for, I can assure you that it doesn’t stand for Peter Farrell. That’s all I can say.’ He looked over Healey’s shoulder as if he had noticed someone. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to our course assistant, about a small problem in the toilets, would you believe. Oh, and while I think of it, I wanted to ask you if you would like to come to the end of course party on Friday night. You’re very welcome. And your Sergeant, if you like.’
‘Thanks. I’ll see what’s happening nearer the time. Do I need to tell you if I’m coming?’
‘No, just turn up. Or don’t. I hope you do, though. Should be fun.’
Healey caught sight of a round-faced young woman with a shock of pink and blue hair, wearing a black blouse and mini-skirt, approaching them.
‘Oh! Sam,’ said Farrell, ‘I was just coming to look for you. Let me introduce you. Richard, this is Samantha, our course assistant. Samantha, Chief Inspector Healey, as you probably already know.’ Farrell addressed himself to Healey, ‘Sam knows everything. She’s the person who actually runs this course, not me.’ He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘To the toilets,’ he said, and set off with her down the corridor.
Healey watched her mini-skirted bottom as she clomped along in her Doc Martens until, remembering that his daughter wore a pair too, he felt suddenly guilty.
Healey sat at his desk at home, in his hand the mini-recorder, containing the first of the cassettes that he planned to listen to. Teague was right; it was going to take a long time, even now that they were sharing the task. To his credit, Teague had noticed miniscule markings on the cassettes, practically invisible to Healey without his reading glasses. Each cassette bore twelve digits without a break between them, which Teague had quickly worked out must refer to dates, the first six digits indicating the starting date of the recordings on the tape and the second six indicating the finishing date. If this was indeed what the numbers meant, and it seemed almost certain that they did despite some discrepancies, then the recordings had been made a few years before and covered a period of eighteen months.
Healey started listening to what turned out to be a conversation between two people whose voices he didn’t recognise, talking about what they referred to as pragmatics. From what Carter had told them that morning, he was fairly confident that the speakers were the Head of Department, Rex whatever it was, and the hermit, Monty. What he could be absolutely sure of, however, was that the content of the tape could have nothing to do with Crouch’s death. It could well have something to do with me falling asleep very soon, though, thought Healey. He got up, went into the living room and pulled the curtains to.
He was just easing himself onto the sofa when the phone rang. It was his Superintendent, who, having first observed that Healey was at home again in the middle of the afternoon, said he just wanted to know how the case was progressing. As Healey told him, the Super hardly made a comment and Healey sensed that he wasn’t really listening.
After Healey had finished his account by explaining that the reason he was at home was to be able to listen to the tapes without any distractions, the Super said ‘Fine. Fine. One thing, though. Mind you don’t get too close to those academics. Wouldn’t want it to cloud your judgement. They can be devious buggers at the best of times. Wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them myself. Okay? Right. Keep me appraised.’
So that was why he had called, and it could only be because he had been talking to Teague. It must have been when Teague went to get the tape recorder. Healey felt depressed, and no longer sleepy. He went back to his study and, having looked in the dictionary to confirm what he suspected – that what his Super meant to say was ‘apprised’ and not ‘appraised’, began to listen to the recording again. As he did so, he had the nagging feeling that there was another word he wanted to check, from something said that morning.
Healey woke with a start, unsure where he was. He felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Dad, wake up.’ It was his son, Jamie. ‘Dad, wake up. Mum says supper’s nearly ready and do you want a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, please.’ Healey watched his son run through the living room in the direction of the kitchen. He yawned and ran his hand through his hair. He was still at his desk but the tape recorder was no longer in his hand, and nor was it on his desk. He looked down and saw it at his feet. He leaned over to pick it up and felt a spasm in his lower back. He was down on his knees retrieving the recorder when his wife came in with his tea.
‘Are you all right, love?’ she asked.
‘Yes, fine. Just getting this.’ He lifted the recorder to show her, and got slowly to his feet.
‘Back bad again?’
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not, is it?’
‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘You should see about it. You can’t go on like this.’
‘It’s all right. Let’s not talk about it.’
‘I’m the one that will have to look after you if it goes again.’
Healey said nothing. His wife took down a paperback from the shelf, put it on the desk, and placed the mug of tea on it. ‘Supper’ll be ready in five minutes,’ she said.
After supper Healey went back to his desk and the tape recorder. It took him a while to find the place where he must have been when he fell asleep and when he did and started to listen again, he found it as boring as it had been before. The two speakers were still going on about what seemed to him highly theoretical and extremely subtle differences of interpretation that did not interest him and, to be honest, which he did not fully understand. It occurred to him to fast forward until he found something that might be more relevant to the case but decided not to because there would be no way of knowing whether he had missed something important. So he listened to them droning on, as he put it to himself, for another ten or twelve minutes, becoming increasingly restless, then stopped the machine. This was no good. He had to get out, move about, do something different.
Without thinking about it further, he got up, called out that he was going for a walk, and set off down Beech Lane in the direction of the Wilderness, which was just a couple of hundred yards from his house. When he had crossed Wilderness Road and passed through the narrow pedestrian entrance and was making his way along one of the tracks, it occurred to him that he could have brought Maisie the dog, but he couldn’t be bothered going back now.
Emerging from the shade of the trees into still bright sunshine, he passed by some science blocks, came to the main administration building, and then realised that what had seemed an aimless walk was taking him towards the cricket ground and the hall where the summer school was housed. He realised too that what he wanted was for something to happen, something different from the routine of work and family life. He began to walk more quickly, with a mounting feeling of expectancy and a pleasurable sense almost of danger, something he hadn’t experienced for a long time.
‘Where is everybody?’ Healey asked.
‘They’ve gone to Windsor to see a play. I was supposed to go too but we were so late getting back from Stratford last night that Peter, Dr Farrell, said I could have an early night and he’d go instead.’
‘That was nice of him. Do you know what time they get back?’
‘I think about eleven, unless they stop off at a pub on the way.’
Healey was on the point of saying goodnight, when instead, out of the blue, he found himself asking an attractive twenty-year-old woman whether she fancied a drink.
‘Thanks, but the bar’s closed and Mr Bird isn’t around to open it.’
‘Oh.’ Healey hesitated before going on. ‘What about the Queen’s Head? It’s only just round the corner.’
She smiled. ‘All right. A quick one then. I want to be safely in my room before they all get back from the play.’ She paused. ‘Could you wait just a minute. I’ll be back.’
When she returned, she was not alone. With her was the Italian woman. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Samantha, ‘I met Silvia on the stairs and asked her to come along too.’
‘Not at all. The more the merrier,’ said Healey and immediately regretted it.
‘I’m sorry but you’ll have to make do with just the two of us,’ said Silvia.
‘I didn’t mean …’
‘Of course not. Don’t be embarrassed,’ said Silvia, at which she put her arm around Samantha’s waist, pulled her towards her, and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We don’t want to embarrass you.’
They sat at a wooden table outside the back of the Queen’s Head. The women both drank white wine and Healey, somewhat self-consciously, had his usual Guinness. He was struck by the bright blue of Silvia’s eyes; her hair, however, shoulder length and straight, was of a colour his wife would have called mousey. His gaze wandered to the tanned skin of her fine-boned arms, against which the hair was bleached pale gold. Needing to distract himself from the thoughts that were coming to his mind, he managed to ask her a question.
The Pursuit of Truth Page 16