by Jane Casey
‘Not likely. Not if the boss is going.’ He started back down the path. Over his shoulder, he said, ‘I’ve had enough of him for one day. He was a proper little ray of sunshine earlier.’
‘I’ve seen him in better moods,’ I said.
‘Bet you have. You still haven’t told me what you did to piss him off.’
‘I have told you, actually. Absolutely nothing. It’s probably something to do with the divorce.’
‘Divorce?’ Derwent stopped at that.
‘Didn’t you know? He and Serena have split.’
‘When? Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did she leave him or did he leave her?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘Like hell you don’t.’ Derwent was frowning. ‘How did you find this out?’
‘He told me. At the wedding. I didn’t ask him,’ I felt compelled to add.
‘What else did he say?’
‘Not a lot. Look, I know you like to think the worst of people but it’s nothing to do with me.’
Derwent raised one eyebrow.
‘Oh, come on. Not you too. I am not having a relationship with the boss. I’ve shared closer moments with you.’
The other eyebrow went up.
‘Seriously,’ I said.
‘What about the boss’s daughter? How’s she taking it?’
‘I didn’t ask.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘It might explain a few things, actually. Godley told me Isobel was applying to American universities. I thought it was strange that he’d let her go so far away, where he couldn’t keep an eye on her. Maybe she was getting out of town because home was too miserable.’
‘Maybe he wanted her to go far away so she could have some freedom.’
‘No father wants his teenage daughter to have any freedom,’ Derwent said. ‘Believe me, I’ve known a few.’
‘If it was freedom to spend time with you, I completely understand.’
Derwent shook his head. ‘I can’t believe the boss is getting divorced. I’d never have picked them to break up, if I’m honest. Serena was the perfect woman. Beautiful, cultured, intelligent—’
‘I didn’t think intelligence mattered to you. Or culture.’
‘No, but these things matter to the boss. She was incredibly understanding, too. Never seemed to mind when he was out all the time. Never complained about the job.’
‘That you know of. Maybe she got tired of coming second to his work.’
‘She knew what she was getting into. He was already a copper when she married him.’
‘It’ll have got worse, though, since then. He’s more important. He has more responsibilities. Maybe it was more than she bargained for.’
Derwent pulled a face, brooding over it.
‘You never really know what’s going on in someone else’s relationship,’ I said. ‘It might have looked good from the outside but something wasn’t working.’
‘That’s what you tell yourself so you can justify sleeping with him.’
‘I’m not sleeping with him!’ I said it loudly enough that a couple of wood pigeons took fright and plunged away from us through the trees in a flurry of wings.
‘No need to shout.’ Derwent seemed to feel he’d gone far enough. ‘Speaking of relationships, what did you make of Mrs Hammond?’
I told him my impressions of her, and the house, and what she’d said about their family. I saved the bit about Vanessa’s black eye until we were eating our late breakfast by the burger van in the car park. The place was busy with families and dog walkers so I kept my voice low, a subtlety that was lost on Derwent.
‘Bloody hell. What’s going on there?’
‘I don’t know but I’d say it’s a priority to find out.’
‘We should go through Vanessa’s school. Find a responsible adult that way. Cut Mrs Hammond out before she finds a way to keep us at arm’s length.’
‘I’m sure the boss will support that.’
Derwent hooked the meat out of the middle of his burger and wadded half of it into his mouth. With some difficulty, he said, ‘I don’t like this, you know.’
‘What?’
‘Poking around in this guy’s life. I don’t want to know why his daughter has a black eye. I don’t want to pull his marriage apart. I just want him to be a hero. A copper gets killed and you want him to be a hero, not a prick. This Hammond is shaping up like a prick. Getting noshed off by some trollop on his way home from work sounds like fun but it’s not what you want in the headlines, is it?’
A father pulled his small daughter out of our vicinity, glaring at us. Derwent was oblivious. I moved a bit further away from the burger van queue.
‘He might have been a good cop even if his private life was messy.’
‘Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he brought all of this on himself.’ Derwent dumped the burger bun in the bin and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. ‘You know how I told Megan no one deserved to be shot? I’m not so sure that’s true.’
‘It’s a good line, though.’
‘I thought so. And she did too, which is what matters.’ Derwent stretched. ‘Let’s go and see what the badger-bothering television personality can tell us about what happened last night.’
‘Somehow I think his version won’t be exactly the same as Megan’s.’
‘Less perving, more heroics?’
‘That sort of thing.’
Derwent sighed. Under his breath, he said, ‘Can’t wait.’
Chapter 7
I’d already formed an impression of what Hugh might be like from Megan’s account of their evening together. It was generally unwise to bring any preconceptions to an interview, but Hugh conformed to type from the moment he answered the door. I recognised him from TV ads for his wildlife programmes but he was smaller than I had expected, five foot six maybe. He had fair curly hair that he wore short, brushed back from a high forehead. He used his beard to define a jawline that was otherwise inclined to soften into his neck. I was sure his image was important to him: his eyebrows looked suspiciously well groomed and his teeth were capped to perfection. He was wearing a brown-and-green checked shirt and cords, country casual in the heart of London. He looked warily at us, half-hiding behind the door.
‘Yes?’
‘Police,’ Derwent said, his voice loud enough to be clearly audible to the neighbours. ‘Can we come in, Mr Johnson?’
Hugh winced and hurried to stand back – anything to get us off the street and out of sight. As we came through the door, he snapped, ‘Shoes off, please.’
It was a reasonable enough request. I might even have offered to take them off if he’d given me the chance, because the trudge through the woods had left its mark on me. Little flakes of dried mud drifted on to the floor as I pulled off my boots. For his part, Derwent glowered. He took his own sweet time about removing his shoes so I was on my own as I followed Hugh into the living room.
I could only imagine that Hugh had picked the basement flat in Fulham because of the posh postcode: inside it was low-ceilinged and dark. The living room was sparsely furnished, apparently at random. It looked dated and shabby.
‘You can sit there.’ He pointed at a small sofa, taking a scuffed leather armchair for himself. He watched me as I sat down and I could practically hear him thinking, too tall. ‘Is this going to take long?’
‘We just want to get a statement from you about what happened last night,’ I said.
‘Sure. Yes. Of course.’ His eyes were fixed on mine, his stare so intense that I could see white around the irises. He had the air of a horse about to bolt. ‘I just wonder if I should have a solicitor present.’
I blinked, wondering if I’d misheard. He looked completely serious. I gambled that he meant it. ‘That’s up to you. But I don’t think you need one.’
‘It’s just, you know. In my position. As a public figure.’
‘A television presenter.’
Hugh bristled. ‘My reputatio
n is very important. Public perception matters. My livelihood depends on how popular I am.’
‘I understand that. But this statement is for use by the police and possibly the courts. It’s not released to the press.’ Even if they were interested …
‘What’s the problem?’ Derwent strolled into the room and started wandering around, picking up photographs and ornaments to inspect them. ‘I thought we’d be finished by now. Don’t tell me you haven’t even started.’
‘Mr Johnson was wondering if he needed a lawyer.’
‘I’m just being wary,’ Hugh said, defensive immediately. ‘I know what can happen. Statements can be misconstrued. Things can be taken out of context.’
‘By the police?’ Derwent asked. His tone was deceptively innocent.
‘Sometimes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it into place.
‘You don’t trust us.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ The two men stared at one another in silence, until Hugh started to fidget. ‘I’m sure that won’t be the case here.’
‘What exactly are you worrying about?’ Derwent demanded. ‘That people might think it’s a bit weird of you to use your reputation as a wildlife expert to convince pretty young girls to date you?’
‘That sort of thing.’ Hugh tried for a smile. ‘You can see how it could be interpreted.’
‘I know how I’ve interpreted it.’
‘We’ve already got a statement from Megan,’ I said quickly, seeing the colour rise in Hugh’s cheeks. ‘So it’s really just about confirming the details of what she told us, and checking whether you saw anything she didn’t.’
‘You know, I want to cooperate. I’d assume I did see things she would have missed.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’m a trained observer. I notice the details.’ He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and laced his fingers in front of his chest. I could sense his confidence rising. ‘That environment is one I know particularly well. I’m used to being there.’
‘I’m sure you are.’ Derwent’s voice was pitched low. I’d have known what he was saying even if I hadn’t heard the words. To Hugh Johnson, he said, ‘How does that work, anyway? When do you make your move on them? Out in the open or back at the car, when they’re grateful to be warm and dry again? Or maybe up against a tree on the way back. That would work, wouldn’t it?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was simply responding to a fan’s wish to see some beautiful animals in their proper environment.’
‘So it was her idea?’ Derwent nodded. ‘I see.’
I caught Derwent’s eye and gave him a warning frown. To Hugh, I said, ‘What details did you notice?’
‘The car. I’m pretty sure I got the colour and maybe the make.’
‘Really? Because Megan seemed to think you wouldn’t have seen much of anything.’ Derwent came to sit beside me, his knees so wide apart I had to turn sideways to make room for him.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘She said you were terrified. You were busy hiding when the car went past.’ Not the most diplomatic way of raising that, but then Derwent wasn’t the most diplomatic of men.
Hugh shifted in his seat again. ‘Why are you even here? If you’re determined to discount everything I say—’
‘We’re not,’ I said, crossing my fingers that Derwent wouldn’t contradict me. ‘We just want to be sure that what you tell us is the truth and not exaggerated. No one is blaming you if you didn’t see anything. If you say you saw something and it later turns out that you were wrong, we could waste a lot of time looking for something or someone that doesn’t exist.’
‘I would never do that.’ Hugh blinked at me, hurt.
‘Just tell us what you remember about last night.’
‘Starting when?’
‘When you met up with Megan,’ I suggested.
Frowning, Hugh began to describe where and when he and Megan had met. His account tallied with hers more or less exactly, right up until the moment after the second shot was fired. ‘I did lie down at that point, and stayed low. I was concerned for Megan’s safety as well as my own. There are people who don’t like what I do, and what I stand for. Just because I’m on television that doesn’t mean I’m popular.’
‘Ever had death threats?’ Derwent asked.
‘None that I brought to the attention of the police.’
‘But you have had threats.’
‘Not in so many words.’ Hugh wriggled, put on the spot and not enjoying it. ‘Attention from the fans – it’s nice, but it can be intense.’
‘So your first thought was that the shots had been fired by a fan,’ Derwent said slowly.
‘Not my first thought. Not even my second.’ Hugh ran his hand through his hair again. ‘God. I don’t know. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it was really happening. For the sake of being safe I got on the ground and I told Megan to do the same. I didn’t want her to be endangered.’
‘Very chivalrous,’ Derwent commented.
‘It’s the truth.’
‘You were lying down. It was dark and the car didn’t have lights on,’ I said. ‘How much could you see?’
‘Quite a lot. I know it sounds unlikely but I am used to spending hours in low-light areas, watching for small movements. A lot of animals only come out at night and they don’t like artificial lights any more than murderers do. The car was quite a long way off but I’m long-sighted, as it happens.’
‘You said you thought you knew the colour and make of the car.’
‘Yeah. I’d say you’re looking for a Japanese car and not a recent model. It was boxy. I’d say it was a Toyota. Something like that. Colour …’ he pulled a face, thinking about it. ‘Dark, but not black. Call it grey. Maybe not grey but not black.’
‘Do you like cars?’ Derwent asked.
‘I watch Top Gear now and then.’ He laughed, obviously expecting us to join in. Derwent was stony-faced. I hadn’t the heart to muster a smile.
‘Anything else? What about the engine? Did it sound as if it was in good nick?’ I asked.
‘Not particularly. It was loud. Could have been a diesel.’
Which fitted in with Megan’s statement.
‘Could you see the driver? Any passengers?’ I asked.
‘Someone in the back seat but I couldn’t tell you anything about them except that they were there. I could see a figure but no detail. I can say more about the front of the car. I had longer to look at it. The driver was small – plenty of space in the car around him or her.’ He concentrated, staring at the carpet in front of him, and I thought he was telling the truth about what he’d seen. ‘I saw one hand on the steering wheel and either the driver was wearing light-coloured gloves or they were white, because it was definitely pale. Stood out against the darker background.’
‘Could it have been a woman?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’ The answer was instant. ‘But I can’t say it was – not definitely.’
‘Was there anything else you saw or heard that might be useful to us?’
‘No. I’ve been trying to think. I just keep remembering seeing that car.’ Hugh put a hand to his eyes and shuddered. ‘It’s not what you expect to see somewhere like Richmond Park. All the blood. And Meg went far closer than I thought she should have.’
Derwent bristled. ‘She didn’t do any harm. What if he’d been injured? She might have been able to help him.’
‘You know better than that. His brains were all over the back windscreen.’ Hugh’s face had lost most of its colour, but he was holding his own against Derwent. ‘He had a hole in his chest the size of my fist. They don’t teach you how to deal with that in first aid.’
‘You didn’t know that twenty feet out.’
‘What do you think I should have done?’ Hugh demanded. ‘What would you have done? Run down the hillside and stopped the car?’
Derwent laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have been there in the first place
, mate. I can think of a few better choices for a first date.’
‘Okay.’ Hugh nodded. ‘You’ve got a problem with me because I’m on TV. It happens.’
‘It’s not because you’re on TV. It’s because—’
I cut in before Derwent could say something unforgivable and reportable. ‘I think we’re finished. I’ll write this up as a formal statement and get it to you for signature, okay?’
‘Fine.’ Hugh stopped glaring at Derwent for a moment to smile at me. Derwent jumped up and padded out to the hall without a word to either of us.
‘If you think of anything else or you want to amend anything you’ve told us, you can give me a call.’ I handed him a card and then started putting my notebook away.
‘Is that your mobile number on the back?’
I glanced up, surprised at the question. ‘Yeah. Best way to get hold of me. This isn’t a desk job and it’s not nine to five either.’
‘I can imagine.’ He turned the card over and tapped the edge on his knee. ‘I thought you’d put it there for my benefit.’
‘Oh. You mean … no. That would be completely unprofessional.’ I tried to sound severe, even though I knew I was blushing. I hoped against hope that Derwent was too busy with his shoelaces to hear any of this.
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a drink some time? Even though it would be unprofessional?’ He waggled his perfectly manicured eyebrows at me.
‘I have a boyfriend.’
‘Of course you do.’ He crossed his legs. ‘Can’t blame me for trying.’
‘Er, right.’ So I wasn’t too tall after all. I tried to feel lucky about that. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Derwent in the hall, arms folded, watching us. I stood up. ‘I don’t think a drink is a good idea, Mr Johnson.’
‘I see a girl like you, I have to ask.’ He gave me a rueful smile that made my skin crawl.
‘You don’t have to ask, actually. Not when she’s just doing her job. She’s working, not hanging out in a bar, and she doesn’t need to deal with comments on her appearance.’ Derwent had come to lean against the doorframe. He was word-perfect after my lesson earlier, I noticed. And I’d thought he wasn’t even listening.