‘I knew you’d come,’ said Bentley, sitting in the armchair. ‘So I stayed home. Half-expected you yesterday, in fact. Stayed home yesterday as well. Wouldn’t look too clever, being arrested in front of my staff.’
‘I can understand that,’ Donoghue replied, sitting opposite Bentley.
A clock ticked.
Donoghue and Montgomerie had first gone to Bentley’s office in Bath Street and, on being told that he had not come in that day, they had driven out to Balfron, to Bentley’s home. They were followed by a marked police car and a police van. The convoy pulled to a halt noisily on the gravel in front of Bentley’s house. Donoghue got out of his Rover and looked at the building. David Bentley stood at the library window, looking at the officers. He was dressed casually in white slacks and a blue jersey, light blue to match his car which was parked at the side of the house. Donoghue stood and looked at Bentley. For a few seconds the men stared at each other, holding each other’s gaze. Then Bentley slowly nodded his head.
Moments later, he opened the front door of the house and bade the police enter. ‘I think I know why you’re here,’ he said.
‘Good.’ Donoghue swept his homburg off as he stepped over the threshold. He was pleased that this was going to be a civilly conducted arrest, unemotional and restrained. ‘That is going to save us both difficulty.’
‘Perhaps I could have a word with you in the drawing-room?’
‘We can do all the necessary talking at the police station, Mr Bentley.’
‘Please. One minute is all I ask.’
‘Very well, but Mr Montgomerie will accompany me.’
‘Is that necessary?’
‘I’m indulging you as it is, Mr Bentley.’
In the drawing-room, which Donoghue found stood on the opposite side of the hallway to the library in which he and Bentley had first encountered each other, Bentley insisted that Donoghue and Montgomerie sat down. He also sat. Donoghue sensed Montgomerie’s impatience, but he was curious about Bentley. He wanted to hear what he had to say. The man intrigued him, dangerously so, and he was reminded of Dr Cass’s reference to spiders: their webs, their jaws.
‘No,’ said Bentley, ‘it would really look too bad if I was arrested at work. So I waited at home.’
‘Didn’t think of making a run for it?’
‘From where to where?’ Bentley relaxed a little in the chair and he caught Donoghue’s eye with a gentle gleam in his own eyes.
Donoghue shuddered.
‘You know, Mr Donoghue, I felt that there was an affinity between us from the moment I met you. You and I had an instant rapport; a certain awareness. Like brothers. Now I feel a sense of something lost. I glimpsed something that might have been. It may still be.’
‘I do not share your faith in that respect, Mr Bentley.’
‘A pity. But do try to keep an open mind. I shall, of course, be pleading not guilty. I shall fight all the way, point by point, technicality by technicality, and I shall enjoy it. I see you as a worthy adversary, Mr Donoghue.’
‘It won’t be me you’ll be fighting.’
‘No, it will be the officer of the Procurator Fiscal, but his case will depend on your report. You know, many a policeman has left the force to pursue a successful career as a criminal lawyer. It’s just a question of contacts.’
‘I’m happy in my work,’ said Donoghue.
‘And your friend?’ Bentley smiled at Montgomerie.
‘Just what do you want to say to us, Mr Bentley?’ Donoghue asked icily. ‘Gentlemanly conduct is one thing, but we will not be trifled with.’
‘Well, as I say, I shall be pleading “not guilty”, but just for argument’s sake—’
‘We haven’t time to argue.’ Donoghue’s expression hardened. ‘This is public money that’s ticking on the meter here.’
Tor the sake of argument, if I did kill that boy, what’s lost?’
‘A human life. That’s loss enough for anybody.’
‘He might have been taking my daughter’s life. A man has to protect his own. Besides, he was a cheap, useless ned; he would have died anyway, he had limited life-expectancy. Neds do, it’s their mode of life. If I hadn’t killed him, for argument’s sake, if I hadn’t killed him, someone else would.’
‘And just for argument’s sake, what about Shane Dodemaide; who, just for the sake of argument, might have been wrongly and deliberately implicated in the murder of his mate?’
‘Mate, you say. People like that can’t form relationships. They take the body of a girl, somebody’s daughter, and share it among themselves.’ Anger rose in Bentley’s voice and subsided quickly. ‘Perhaps I might have been doing him a favour.’
‘Some favour. Ten years in the pokey doesn’t sound like a favour to me.’
‘He wouldn’t have been a heroin addict when he came out. And he would have been alive. He would have had a greater life-expectancy in the gaol than in the streets. He would have had a lot to thank me for.’
‘Thin ice on which to erect a defence.’ Donoghue stood. ‘I think this conversation is concluded.’
Bentley smiled land stood. ‘I think it is. I’ll just get my coat. It’s in the library.’
‘Do not do anything rash,’ said Donoghue. ‘My men are in the hall and also outside the house.’
‘I have no intention of doing anything rash.’ Bentley left the drawing-room, leaving the door open as he did so.
Donoghue turned to Montgomerie. ‘I was curious,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘Curious as to what he had to—’
The single gunshot echoed in the house.
Montgomerie saw Donoghue close his eyes, as if reproaching himself for some act of monumental stupidity. There was a clatter of running feet in the hall.
Silence.
The uniformed sergeant stepped into the drawing-room. He looked towards Donoghue, lost for words.
Donoghue opened his eyes and stood. ‘…rarely commit suicide,’ he said.
‘Pardon, sir?’ Montgomerie stood.
‘Nothing.’ Donoghue began to walk to the door. ‘I just didn’t think he’d do that. Didn’t think he’d do that at all.’
About the Author
Peter Turnbull, who was born in Yorkshire, England, has worked as a steelworker and a crematorium assistant and is currently a social worker in Glasgow, Scotland. He is the author of six previous novels featuring the officers of P Division, the Hennessey and Yellich series and the thriller–The Claws of the Gryphon.
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And Did Murder Him Page 17