"What sort of work?"
"Nude work."
"Pornography?"
Harding looked uncomfortable. "Only soft porn."
"Video or stills?"
"Stills."
"Were you in the shots with her?"
"Some," he admitted.
"Where are those photographs now?"
"I dropped them over the side of my boat."
"Because they showed you performing indecent acts with an underage girl?"
"She doesn't look underage."
"Answer the question, Steve. Did you put them over the side because they showed you performing indecent acts with an underage girl?"
Harding nodded.
"For the purposes of the tape, Steven Harding nodded agreement. Did Tony Bridges know you were sleeping with Marie Freemantle?"
"What's Tony got to do with it?"
"Answer the question, Steve."
"I don't think so. I never told him."
"Did he see the photographs of her?"
"Yes. He came out to my boat on Monday, and they were on the table."
"Did he see them before Monday?"
"I don't know. He trashed my boat four months ago." He ran his tongue around his dry mouth. "He might have found them then."
Carpenter leaned back, his fingers toying with his pen. "Which would have made him angry," he said, more as a statement than a question. "She's a pupil of his and he had a fondness for her himself, albeit a hands-off one because of his position, which you knew about."
"I-er-guess so."
"We understand you met Marie Freemantle on fourteen February. Was that while you were having a relationship with Kate Sumner?"
"I didn't have a relationship with Kate." He blinked nervously, trying like Tony the night before to pre-guess the direction the questions were going. "I went back to her house one time and she kind of ... well ... threw herself at me. It was okay, but I've never been that keen on older women. I made it clear I wasn't interested in anything long term, and I thought she understood. It was just a quick shag in her kitchen-nothing to get excited about."
"So when Tony tells us the relationship went on for three or four months, he's lying?"
"Oh, Jesus!" Harding's nervousness increased. "Listen, I may have given him that impression. I mean I knew Kate ... you know, as an acquaintance ... for quite a while before we actually got it together, and I may have ... well, given Tony the idea there was a bit more to it than there actually was. It was a joke, really. He's a bit of a prude."
Carpenter watched him for a moment before lowering his eyes to a piece of paper on the table in front of him. "Three months after meeting Marie, sometime during the week twenty-four to thirty-one May, you had a one-night stand with Bibi Gould, Tony Bridges' girlfriend. Is that right?"
Harding gave a small groan. "Oh, come on! That really was nothing. We got drunk in the pub and I took her back to Crazy Daze to sleep it off because Tony was away and his house was locked up. She came on to me a bit strong and ... well, to be honest, I don't remember much about it. I was rat-arsed and couldn't swear that anything happened worth recording."
"Does Tony know?"
He didn't answer immediately. "I don't-Look, why do you keep going on about Tony?"
"Answer the question, please. Does Tony know that you slept with his girlfriend?"
"I don't know. He's been a bit off recently, so I've been wondering if he saw me ferrying her back to the slip the next morning." With a worried gesture, he pulled at the hair that flopped across his forehead. "He was supposed to be staying the whole week in his folks' caravan, but Bob Winterslow said he saw him that day at his granddad's place, getting ready to tow his rib out."
"Can you remember which day it was?"
"Bank-holiday Monday. Bibi's hairdressing salon doesn't open on bank holidays, which is why she was able to stay over on Sunday night." He waited for Carpenter to speak, and when he didn't, he gave a small shrug. "Listen, it was no big deal. I planned to square it with Tony if he ever said anything"-another shrug-"but he never did."
"Does he normally say something when you sleep with his girlfriends?"
"I don't make a habit of it, for Christ's sake. The trouble is ... well, Bibi was like Kate. You try and be nice to a woman, and the next minute they're climbing all over you."
Carpenter frowned. "Are you saying they forced you to have intercourse with them?"
"No, but-"
"Then spare me the excuses." He consulted his notes again. "How did your agent get the idea Bibi was your girlfriend?"
Harding tugged at his hair again and had the grace to look embarrassed. "Because I told him she was a bit of a goer."
"Meaning she'd be amenable to pornographic stills?"
"Yes."
"Would your agent have mentioned that to Tony?"
Harding shook his head. "If he had, Tony would have taken me apart."
"Except he didn't take you apart over Kate Sumner, did he?"
The young man was clearly baffled by the question. "Tony didn't know Kate."
"How well did you know her, Steve?"
"That's the crazy thing," he said. "Hardly at all ... okay, we did it once but ... well, it doesn't mean you get to know someone, does it? I avoided her afterward because it was embarrassing. Then she started treating me as if I'd wronged her in some way."
Carpenter pulled out Harding's statement. "You claimed she was obsessed with you, Steve. I knew she had a serious crush on me...' " he read. " 'She used to hang around by the yacht club waiting for me to come ashore ... Most of the time she just stood and watched me, but sometimes she'd deliberately bump into me and rub her breasts against my arm...' Is any of that true?"
"I may have exaggerated a bit. She did hang around for about a week till she realized I wasn't interested. Then she sort of ... well, abandoned the idea, I suppose. I didn't see her again till she did the thing with the nappy."
Carpenter sorted Tony Bridges' statement from the pile. "This is what Tony said: 'He told me on more than one occasion this year that he was having problems with a woman called Kate Sumner, who was stalking him...' Did you decide to exaggerate a bit when you told Tony?"
"Yes."
"Did you refer to Kate as a 'tart'?"
He hunched his shoulders. "It was just an expression."
"Did you tell Tony Kate was easy?"
"Listen, it was a joke. He used to have a real hang-up about sex. Everyone used to tease him, not just me ... then Bibi came along and he ... well, lightened up."
Carpenter studied him closely for a moment. "So did you sleep with Bibi for a joke?"
Harding stared at his hands. "I didn't do it for any particular reason. It just happened. I mean she really was easy. The only reason she hangs around with Tony is because she's got a thing about me. Look"-he hunched farther into his seat-"you don't want to get the wrong idea about all of this."
"What wrong idea's that, Steve?"
"I don't know, but you seem to have it in for Tony."
"With reason," said Carpenter, easing another piece of paper from the pile in front of him and hiding the contents with cupped fingers. "We've been told you watched him feed Bibi a drug called"-he lowered his eyes to the paper, as if the word were written there-"Rohypnol so she wouldn't complain about his performance. Is that true?"
"Oh, shit!" He rested his head in his hands. "I suppose Marie's been spouting her mouth off?" His fingers caressed his temples in soft, circular movements, and Galbraith was fascinated by the gracefulness of his actions. He was an extraordinarily beautiful young man, and it didn't surprise him that Kate had found him more attractive than William.
"Is it true, Steve?"
"Sort of. He told me he slipped it to her once when she was giving him a load of grief, but I didn't see him do it, and for all I know he was lying through his teeth."
"How did he know about Rohypnol?"
"Everyone knows."
"Did you tell him?"
Harding lifted his head to look a
t the paper in front of the superintendent, clearly wondering how much information was written there. "His granddad hasn't been sleeping too well since his wife died, so the GP prescribed him Rohypnol. Tony was telling me about it, so I laughed and said it could sort all his problems if he could get hold of some of it. It's not my fault if the stupid fucker used it."
"Have you used it, Steve?"
"Do me a favor! Why would I need to?"
A faint smile crossed Carpenter's face as he changed tack. "How soon after the incident with the nappy did Kate start smearing Hannah's feces on your car and setting the alarm off?"
"I don't know. A few days, maybe."
"How did you know it was her?"
"Because she'd left Hannah's crap on the sheets in my boat."
"Which was sometime toward the end of April?" Harding nodded. "But she didn't start this"-Carpenter sought a suitable phrase-" 'dirty campaign' until after she realized you weren't interested in pursuing a relationship with her?"
"It's not my fault," he said despairingly. "She was ... so ... fucking ... boring."
"The question I asked you, Steve," repeated Carpenter patiently, "was did she start her 'dirty campaign' after she realized you weren't interested in her?"
"Yes." He jabbed the heels of his palms against his eye in an effort to recall detail. "She just made my life hell until I couldn't stand it any longer. That's when I thought of persuading William to tell her I was an arse-bandit."
The superintendent ran a finger down Harding's statement. "Which was in June?"
"Yes."
"Any particular reason why you waited a month and a half to put a stop to it?"
"Because it was getting worse not better," the young man said with a sudden rush of anger as if the memory still rankled deeply. "I thought she'd run out of steam if I was patient, but when she started targeting my dinghy, I decided enough was enough. I reckoned she'd start on Crazy Daze next, and there was no way I was going to let her do that."
Carpenter nodded as if he thought the explanation a reasonable one. He pulled out Harding's statement again and ran his finger down it. "So you sought out William and showed him photographs of yourself in a gay magazine because you wanted him to tell his wife you were gay?"
"Yes."
"Mmm." Carpenter reached for Tony Bridges' statement. "Tony, on the other hand, says that when you told him you were going to report Kate to the police for harassing you, he advised you to move your car instead. According to him that's what sorted the problem. In fact, he thought it was pretty funny when we told him last night that your solution to Kate's harassment was to show William gay pictures of yourself. He said: 'Steve always was as thick as two short planks.' "
Harding shrugged. "So? It worked. That's all I was interested in."
Slowly, Carpenter squared the papers on the table in front of him. "Why do you think that was?" he asked. "I mean, you're not seriously suggesting that a woman who was so angry at being rejected that she was prepared to harass and intimidate you for weeks would meekly give up when she found out you were gay? Or are you? Admittedly I'm no expert in mental disorders, but I'd guess the intimidation would become markedly worse. No one likes to be made a fool of, Steve."
Harding stared at him in perplexity. "Except she did stop."
The superintendent shook his head. "You can't stop something you never started, son. Oh, she certainly wiped Hannah's nappy on your sheets in a moment of irritation, which probably gave Tony the idea, but it wasn't Kate who was getting her own back on you, it was your friend. It was a peculiarly apt revenge after all. You've been crapping on his doorstep for years. It must have given him a hell of a buzz to pay you back in your own coin. The only reason he stopped was because you were threatening to go to the police."
A sickly smile washed across Harding's face like wet watercolor. He looked ill, thought Carpenter with satisfaction.
William Sumner's mother had long since given up trying to induce her son to talk. Her initial surprise at his unheralded appearance in her flat had given way to fear, and like a hostage, she sought to appease and not to confront. Whatever had brought him back to Chichester was not something he wanted to share with her. He seemed to alternate between anger and anguish, rocking himself to and fro in bouts of frenetic movement only to collapse in tear-sodden lethargy when the fit passed. She was unable to help him. He guarded the telephone with the single-mindedness of a madman, and handicapped by immobility and dread, she withdrew into silent observation.
He had become a stranger to her in the last twelve months, and a kind of subdued dislike drove her toward cruelty. She found herself despising him. He had always been spineless, she thought, which was why Kate had gained such an easy ascendancy over him. Her mouth pinched into lines of contempt as she listened to the dry sobs that racked his thin frame, and when he finally broke his silence, she realized with a sense of inevitability that she could have predicted what he was going to say. "...I didn't know what to do..."
She guessed he had killed his wife. She feared now he had also killed his child.
Tony Bridges rose to his feet as the cell door opened and viewed Galbraith with an uneasy smile. He was diminished by incarceration, a small, insignificant man who had discovered what it meant to have his life controlled by others. Gone was the cocksure attitude of yesterday, in its place a nervous recognition that his ability to persuade had been blunted by the stone wall of police distrust. ''How long are you going to keep me here?"
"As long as it takes, Tony."
"I don't know what you want from me."
"The truth."
"All I did was steal a boat."
Galbraith shook his head. He fancied he saw a momentary regret in the frightened gaze that briefly met his before he stood back to let the young man pass. It was remorse of a kind, he supposed.
...I didn 't mean to do it. I didn 't do it-not really. Kate would still be alive if she hadn't tried to push me over the side. It's her fault she's dead. We were getting on fine until she made a lunge at me, then the next thing I knew she was in the water. You can't blame me for that. Don't you think I'd have drowned Hannah too if I'd intended to kill her mother...?"
*25*
Broxton House slumbered peacefully in the afternoon sunshine as Nick Ingram pulled up in front of the porticoed entrance. As always he paused to admire its clean, square lines and, as always, regretted its slow deterioration. To him, perhaps more than to the Jenners, it represented something valuable, a living reminder that beauty existed in everything; but then he, despite his job, was enduringly sentimental, and they were not. The double doors stood wide open, an invitation to any passing thief, and he picked up Celia's handbag from the hall table as he passed on his way to the drawing room. Silence lay across the house like a blanket of dust, and he worried suddenly that he had come too late. Even his own footfalls on the marble floor were just a whisper in the great emptiness that surrounded him.
He eased open the drawing-room door and stepped inside. Celia was propped up in bed, bifocals slipping off the end of her nose, mouth open, snoring quietly, with Bertie's head on the pillow beside her. They looked like a tableau out of The Godfather, and Nick was hard-pushed not to laugh out loud. The sentimentalist in him viewed them fondly. Maybe Maggie was right, he thought. Maybe happiness was more to do with bodily contact than with hygiene. Who cared about tannin in teacups when you had a hairy hot-water bottle who was prepared to lie with you and love you when no one else would? He tapped lightly on one of the door panels and watched with amusement as Bertie opened a cautious eye then closed it again in obvious relief when he realized Nick wasn't going to make demands on his loyalty.
"I'm not asleep, you know," said Celia, raising a hand to adjust her spectacles. "I heard you come in."
"Am I disturbing you?"
"No." She hoisted herself into a more upright position, tugging her bedjacket across her chest in a belated attempt to safeguard her dignity.
"You shouldn't leave your bag o
n the hall table," he told her, walking across to put it on the bed. "Anyone could steal it."
"They're welcome to it, my dear. There's nothing in it worth taking." She examined him closely. "I prefer you in uniform. Dressed like that, you look like a gardener."
"I said I'd help Maggie with the painting, and I can't paint in my uniform." He pulled forward a chair. "Where is she?"
"Where you told her to be. In the kitchen." She sighed. "I worry about her, Nick. I didn't bring her up to be a manual laborer. She'll have builder's hands before she's finished."
"She already has. You can't muck out stables and scrub horse buckets day after day and keep your hands pretty. The two are mutually exclusive."
She tut-tutted disapprovingly. "A gentleman doesn't notice that kind of thing."
He'd always been fond of her. He didn't know why, except that her forthright approach appealed to him. Perhaps she reminded him of his own mother, a down-to-earth Cockney, who had been dead for ten years. Certainly he found people who spoke their minds easier to get on with than those who cloaked their feelings in hypocritical smiles. "He probably does, you know. He just doesn't mention it."
"But that's the whole point, you silly fellow," she said crossly. "A gentleman is known by his manners."
He grinned. "So you prefer a man who lies to a man who is honest? That's not the impression you gave me four years ago when Robert Healey did his bunk."
"Robert Healey was a criminal."
"But an attractive one."
She frowned at him. "Have you come here to annoy me?"
"No, I came to see if you were all right."
She waved a hand in dismissal. "Well, I am. Go and find Maggie. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you."
He made no move to go. "Were either of you ever called as a witness in Healey's trial?" he asked her.
"You know we weren't. He was tried only for his last fraud. All the rest of us had to take a backseat in case we confused the issue, and that made me more angry than anything. I wanted my day in court so that I could tell the little beast what I thought of him. I was never going to get my money back, but at least I could have taken my pound of flesh." She folded her arms across her chest like armor plating. "However, it's not a subject I wish to dwell on. It's unhealthy to rake over the past."
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