‘Wait there,’ he said, and went through into the main office, returning to Kate with an individually-wrapped slice of Genoa.
‘Magic,’ she said, and he refrained from saying, no, just McLaren. She hitched herself up on his desk. ‘So, what you up to, anyway?’ she asked through the first bite. ‘Got anything good on?’
‘Homicide case,’ he said – that was the preferred nomenclature these days. The brass thought it sounded more official than murder, which was the sort of word anyone could use.
‘Cool!’ Kate said. ‘I don’t suppose it was anyone famous?’
‘He was famous in his own circle,’ Slider said apologetically. ‘He was a fitness personal trainer.’
‘Oh, right. But did he train anyone famous? Like TV presenters or actors or anyone?’
‘He might have,’ Slider said. ‘We haven’t assembled a list of his clients yet.’
‘If it turns out he did, will you let me know, Dad? If it’s anyone really famous?’
‘What difference does it make?’ Slider said, and got the eye-roll again. Of course it made a difference. Fame was the only thing that made a difference. It was what they all aspired to, not the reason for celebrity – not the extraordinary talent or activity or achievement – but the celebrity itself: a life of going to parties where you have to be famous to get an invitation, and where getting an invitation is the reason you’re famous.
‘I’ll let you know,’ he said hastily. ‘If it turns out he did.’ He waited until she had demolished the last of the cake, and said, ‘Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?’
She smiled in a way that was almost affectionate. ‘That’s my dad!’ she said. ‘Always the detective!’
‘It isn’t hard to guess. I could count the times you’ve visited me here on the fingers of one foot.’
‘You mean toes,’ she said with her mother’s literalness.
‘Just spit it out.’
‘OK. It’s, like, I’ve got an offer to go to another school next year. There’s a vacancy at North London College, and our headteacher thinks I ought to go for it, because I’m not being stretched, she says. And it’s, like, this really amazing school, and I really want to go, Dad.’
‘Isn’t it a highly academic school? Won’t there be lots of pressure?’
The eye-roll again. ‘You don’t think I’m academic? You don’t think I’d fit in with all those really clever girls?’ Oooh, sarcasm.
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said mildly. ‘I’m just a bit surprised – I didn’t think you were that dedicated to school work.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t know, would you?’ she said, and a little hurt showed through. ‘You don’t know anything about what I like or don’t like. And as it happens’ – more sarcasm – ‘I’m in the top five in my year in every subject, and I’m the top in maths and English.’
‘Excellent. Well done. I’m very proud of you.’ She was still a little pouty. ‘Seriously. I am. And what did you want from me? If it’s my approval, you’ve got it. I’m very pleased for you.’ An alarming thought crossed his mind. ‘Is it money?’
She looked scornful. ‘No, it’s not money. Ernie’s paying for everything – school fees and everything. But the thing is, it’s a day school. And it’s, like, a long way to travel in every day. Mum’s worried the journey’d be too much on top of everything, and I wouldn’t get home till really late. So she thought – we thought – I could maybe stay at your house during term time. Just weekdays, I mean. I’d still go home at weekends.’
She wouldn’t look at him now, staring at the window with a bored expression and swinging her legs insouciantly. He was sufficiently up in Kate-language to understand that this was not indifference, that she was afraid he’d say no; and afraid not just because a refusal would throw a spaniel in the works, but because to be rejected by him would hurt her.
He ought to check with Joanna first, of course. In the split second it took to think this, she had heard a hesitation.
‘It’s not as if you haven’t got room,’ she said resentfully.
‘Of course there’s room,’ he said. ‘And it’d be lovely to have you there. Lovely to see more of you.’
‘I can, like, help with the baby and everything,’ she went on, still fighting the won battle.
‘We’d love to have you,’ he said, mentally crossing his fingers that Joanna would be delighted. After all, if it was the other way round, he’d be only too happy etc etc. What’s mine is yours, including a fractious teenage daughter and all the responsibility thereof. ‘I’d better arrange to have a talk with your mother about it, get all the details. Did she know you were coming here to ask me this?’
‘I just said I might call in and see you. I didn’t say I was going to ask. But it was, like, her idea for me to stay with you, so she must’ve, like, guessed, really.’
‘OK, well let’s give her a ring now, shall we?’ She looked happy and relieved, and he wanted to hug her. ‘But if you’re going to this academic hothouse there is one thing – you’ll have to stop saying “like” every other word.’
‘Da-a-ad!’ she said, the three-tone wail of protest. He’d gone and spoiled it now.
Joanna arrived after him, looking tired, so he didn’t spring it on her at once. He let her tell some more orchestra tour stories she had been swapping with Peter White, like the time the co-principal trumpet, Sid Williams, went missing just before the concert, and was discovered backstage dead drunk and curled up asleep in the harp case. Luckily he’d had the presence of mind to change into his tails before passing out, so the rest of the section carried him out between them and propped him up in his chair. ‘Instinct took over,’ Joanna said, ‘and he played the concert faultlessly, but afterwards he had no recollection of any of it.’
‘Your brass friends seemed to have done a lot of drinking,’ Slider mentioned.
‘It’s thirsty work,’ she said, and cocked her head. ‘What’s on your mind? You’re not entirely here, are you?’
She knew him as well as he knew her. So he told her about Kate.
She took it very well. ‘Of course I don’t mind having her here, and it’ll be nice for you. But she’s got to pull her weight.’
‘She’s already said she would help out with the baby.’
‘Yes, I know she always liked playing with George, but it’s not just the fun stuff, is it? She’s got to keep her room clean, do her own washing, help with the rest of the house – be part of it all, not just sit around expecting to be waited on.’
‘Of course,’ he said.
‘Yes, Bill, but it’s not “of course”, is it? She might throw herself into things or she might not, and if she doesn’t, someone’s got to police her. And it’s not going to be me. You’ve got to be prepared to take a firm line with her if necessary. I know you won’t want to—’
He took her by both elbows and looked straight into her eyes. ‘I will take responsibility for her, I promise. You don’t need to worry. And thank you, for saying she can come.’
‘Of course she can. Family is family,’ she said.
And at those words his mind went straight back to Jack and Lucy Gallo. She saw he’d gone, sighed slightly and detached herself gently from his grasp. ‘I would so love a gin and tonic right now,’ she said, heading for the kitchen.
‘We’ve got the trace on Lingoss’s mobile phone,’ Hart said ebulliently as soon as he walked in.
The phone had left Lingoss’s flat at nine fifty-nine on Tuesday evening and had not returned there.
‘So it was the murderer who took it,’ Hart said with satisfaction.
‘Somebody took it,’ Slider corrected her.
Atherton was on Hart’s side. ‘I think it’s a working hypothesis – who but the murderer would want to take it?’
Slider let it go. ‘And where did it travel to?’
‘Not very far, boss,’ Hart said. ‘It went straight to Kensington, and stopped somewhere behind Ken High Street, where it remained stationar
y for half an hour. Then it was switched off, and it hasn’t been transmitting since.’
‘How closely have they triangulated it?’ Slider asked.
‘Within about two hundred metres, but there’s a lot of buildings in that area. Come and look on the map.’
Someone had already drawn a line around the area. ‘Somewhere between the High Street and Scarsdale Villas, going roughly north to south,’ Atherton said, demonstrating with the end of a ballpoint, ‘and Abingdon Road and Marloes Road west to east. So you’ve got all the shops along the High Street. Houses, flats – there’s all those service flats on Allen Street, for instance, very densely populated. Offices in Wrights Lane, and more flats. A couple of hotels. There’s the Armenian Embassy—’
‘I don’t even know where Armenia is,’ Hart complained.
‘Black Sea, isn’t it?’ Lœssop said vaguely. ‘Sort of between Turkey and Russia?’
‘How d’you know that?’ Swilley wondered. She had never put him down as academic.
‘Rugby,’ he said, as if it was obvious. ‘I follow the Lelos – Georgia rugby team. Georgia’s in the same area.’ She still looked blank. ‘The country, not the American state.’
‘Oh.’
‘What’s this?’ Slider asked, leaning in. ‘At the end of Adam and Eve Mews?’
‘Army Reserve Centre, the Kensington Cadets.’
‘Great, we got the bleedin’ army involved now,’ Hart muttered.
‘But you know who lives in Marloes Road,’ Atherton said in a pleased tone. ‘Jack Gallo.’
Slider answered the implied question. ‘Still not enough to shake him down. Get after those alibis, chop chop.’
From the mid-nineteenth century onwards, the western side of North Kensington had been home to innumerable railway depots, sidings, coal yards and small factories. In consequence, the streets and streets of Victorian terraced housing all around were designed for railway and factory workers. They were decent, solid, enduring brick-and-slate stock, but they were modest in scale, to say the least. Nevertheless, the modern housing shortage had seen most of them divided into two minuscule flats, and even they were pricey. The current occupants had done their best to upscale their tiny pride-and-joys with new front doors, brass knockers, lace curtains and window boxes, but still they wouldn’t want to number cat-swinging among their hobbies.
Dez Wilson was safely at work and Hart had thought to find Dez’s wife and child at home and vulnerable to a chat, but there was no answer to the doorbell. The curtain of the downstairs flat twitched, and Hart gave an inviting smile in that direction, which shortly brought an elderly woman to the door. She was shabby but neat, and had bothered to brush her hair and put on lipstick that morning, so Hart was confident of a chat. She allowed herself to be invited into the doll’s house but refused a cup of tea. It was tidy, but smelled stale, and there was thick dust on the surfaces and stains on the cheap carpet. Mrs Eldridge wore large pink-framed glasses with thick lenses, so she probably couldn’t see when she spilled her tea on the way to the armchair. And wouldn’t see when residue was left after washing-up.
‘They’re ever such nice people, the Wilsons,’ she confided. ‘They’re black, you know,’ she added, looking carefully at Hart to see if she minded. Hart restrained herself from pointing out the obvious, that she was too. ‘But not foreigners. They were both born here. Dez and Melanie – Mel. And their little girl Ayesha. I was a bit nervous of Dez when he first came here, because he’s so big, but he’s what they call a gentle giant. Ever so polite, and always willing to help with little things. He puts my bin out for me every Sunday night. I actually feel safer now, having him upstairs.’
‘That’s nice,’ said Hart. She knew better than to hurry this sort along. ‘And you get on with Mel all right, as well?’
‘Oh yes. Well, I see more of her really, because Dez is at work all day.’
‘And having a child living upstairs? That’s not a problem? I mean, noise and such?’
‘Well, there’s a bit of noise,’ she admitted. ‘Footsteps, you know, and voices. These old houses weren’t meant to be flats. Of course, when Ayesha was a baby there was the crying – that can get on your nerves. Mel was always apologizing – but I’ve raised two of my own, so I know. I said, you can’t help it, dear. Babies will cry. She was ever so grateful to me for being understanding. Well, now she’s older it’s more the running around and shouting, but you can’t keep a toddler quiet the whole time, it isn’t natural.’
‘So you hear them talking up there, do you?’
‘Oh, not normal talking, only when there’s raised voices.’
‘When they have rows, you mean? Are there a lot of them?’
Mrs Eldridge pursed her lips and frowned judiciously. ‘I wouldn’t say a lot. I mean, all couples have their little ups and downs, don’t they? And it’s a small flat for three people, especially when one’s a child. Sid and me found it cosy for two, but we’d been married forty years so we’d learned how to cope. And property’s so expensive in London, isn’t it?’
‘So they had rows about the flat being too small, did they?’ Hart eased her along. ‘Mel wanted to move, I suppose.’
‘It wasn’t Dez’s fault,’ she defended. ‘He’s got a decent job and he works hard. They’re saving up to get a better place, but a kiddie’s expensive to bring up, and Mel hasn’t felt up to going back to work, so it’s just his wages. And a man has to have some little pleasures, doesn’t he? A drink with a friend after work – it isn’t as though he comes home roaring drunk.’
It was all there in a few phrases, a succinct précis of a marriage. Hart almost suspected Mrs Eldridge of doing it deliberately, but a glance at her placid, lined face did not reveal any Machiavellian intellect.
‘Did he ever mention a friend to you, Jack Gallo?’
‘Oh yes – well, I heard about him from Mel. Dez’s best friend. And he got Dez his job so he’s grateful to him as well. You couldn’t have said a wrong word about Jack to Dez. Mel said he thought the sun shone out of his … well, you know, dear.’
‘Mel doesn’t like him?’
‘Oh, I don’t say that. But a wife likes her husband to come home to her in the evening, especially when she’s been on her own all day with a small child. It’s only natural.’
‘She thinks Dez prefers Jack’s company to hers?’
She looked away. ‘A man has to have his man friend, it’s human nature,’ she said neutrally.
Hart smiled sympathetically. ‘It must be hard, hearing such a lovely couple having rows, when you’re so fond of both of them.’
She liked the attention. ‘Well, it is,’ she said, looking at Hart now. ‘You can’t interfere, but sometimes I want to say, just be grateful you have each other. Never let the sun go down on a quarrel, that’s what my mother always said. And Sid and me never did. Always made a point of making up before bedtime.’
‘This latest row they had,’ Hart said temptingly.
She fell for it. ‘Well, I couldn’t help hearing, when they were shouting up there, and in the end Ayesha started crying, and I felt so sorry for the poor little mite, listening to her mummy and daddy fighting.’
‘What was it about?’
‘Well, I couldn’t hear everything, of course, but I heard Jack’s name, and another friend, Erik, so I thought it must be about him going out with them. She’s complained to me about that once or twice. At any rate, she did shout something about how they could move out of this place if only he stopped wasting money, and saved it instead. And he said she could get a job herself and help, and she said what about Ayesha, and he said his mother’d offered to babysit, and she said she might as well go back and live with her mother because this wasn’t what she’d expected when she married him.’
Evidently she could hear more than the occasional loud word, Hart thought. But none of this seemed to be leading up to killing Erik on Jack’s behalf, so it wasn’t helping her.
‘Did he hit her?’ she asked abruptly, hoping
to surprise the answer out of her.
She hesitated a telling moment. Then she said, ‘Oh no, I’m sure not. He’s not the hitting sort. But,’ she lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘he throws things. You can hear the crockery smash. And one time he punched the wall and made a big hole in it. Mel told me. I suppose he had to let off steam. But he adores her and the kiddie, he’d never hurt either of them.’
‘And this row you’re telling me about – when was that?’
‘Monday night, dear. It ended with a big crash, but it was only a saucepan knocked off the kitchen counter. Mel told me Tuesday when she went out.’ She looked grave. ‘I tried to persuade her not to go, but she was in quite a state and she wouldn’t listen.’
‘Go where?’
‘Back to her mother’s. She had a suitcase and a bag with Ayesha’s little things, and Ayesha was in her pushchair, looking all bewildered, poor little mite, not understanding what was going on. I gave her a barley sugar – I’ve always got some sweeties on hand, just in case – and that took her mind off. And I gave Mel twenty pounds for the taxi.’ She looked at Hart defiantly. ‘She said she’d pay me back, and she will. I wasn’t worried. She said she’d left a note for Dez. I thought he might come down and ask me about it when he got home but he never did. I was a bit relieved. I didn’t want to get in the middle of it.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Hart said. ‘So this was Tuesday morning she went off to her mother’s? And she’s not been back?’
‘No, I’ve not seen her since.’
‘So Dez was all alone up there on Tuesday night?’ So much for his alibi – at home with his wife and child. ‘What time did he get home?’
‘About five, I think it was. I heard him go up. I waited thinking he’d come knocking on my door, cos of the note, but he didn’t. It was quiet as the grave up there. Then a bit later he went out again.’
‘What time was that?’
‘I don’t know for sure, I think it might have been about six or seven. I wasn’t really noticing,’ she apologized.
Cruel as the Grave Page 11