[Inspector Peach 13] - Wild Justice

by J M Gregson

  ‘I offer them a few hours a week of my retirement. It is for the most part a rewarding exercise.’

  ‘And it was in this capacity that you met and advised Matthew Ballack.’

  ‘It was.’ He coughed discreetly, and Lucy thought she caught the scent of whisky working against the efforts at decorum he had made on her behalf. ‘Perhaps I should state at this point that exchanges between clients and CAB staff are entirely confidential.’

  ‘Except where the demands of a murder inquiry override the normal conventions.’ Lucy gave him a bright smile to mitigate the firmness of her assertion.

  ‘Except for extraordinary circumstances such as that, yes.’ Robert White returned her smile. He found as many others had before him that to be involved in a murder case, even if it was only on the fringes, was bringing a little frisson of excitement. That the agent should come in this charming and curvaceous form was decidedly a bonus. He gave the bonus an affable smile. ‘In those circumstances, I am entirely at your service, Detective Sergeant Blake.’

  ‘We need to know exactly why Mr Ballack consulted you, Mr White.’

  ‘That is simple enough. He brought to me a rather tattered but apparently quite viable affirmation of partnership which was apparently very important to him. It was very rudimentary and it did not bear the mark of a competent professional lawyer.’ Lucy was becoming a little impatient with this ageing charmer. ‘You mean it wasn’t hedged about with gobbledegook.’

  White bravely beamed his approval of the word, trying to show this charming young woman that he wasn’t out of touch with modem attitudes. ‘I mean, my dear, that it didn’t contain the clauses which a thoughtful professional man would have inserted to take account of possible changes in circumstances.’

  ‘Would you tell me the details of this document, please?’

  ‘It was a deed of partnership between Matthew Ballack and Timothy John Hayes. I use the word “deed” rather loosely here. After perusing the pages and in response to his queries, I had to advise Mr Ballack that my view was that in the absence of any subsequent written agreements to override it, this document would still hold legal validity.’

  Lucy wanted to tell him to cut to the chase, but she divined correctly that he would plead a lofty legal ignorance of any such vulgar phrase. So she said flatteringly, ‘I need your judgement here, Mr White. What would you say was the most vital clause of this document? The one which Matthew Ballack was most anxious to have clarified or confirmed for him?’

  Her appeal to his expertise pleased Robert White. It combined with the thrill of his belated connection with a murder hunt to make the old man pertinent and succinct. He steepled his fingers and nodded understandingly. ‘I confirmed for Mr Ballack that the document entitled either party to take over the direction of the firm and the management of its assets on the death of the other.’

  At Hayes Electronics, Clare Thompson locked herself in a cubicle in the ladies’ cloakroom after she had returned from lunch with her husband. It was the only place she could give herself privacy and time to think.

  When she emerged after twenty minutes, her mind was made up. Don’t wait for them to come looking for you: take the fight to the enemy. It had always been her way to take the initiative and she wasn’t going to change now. A murder investigation shouldn’t alter your behaviour; that would only invite suspicion. She picked up the phone, told the impersonal voice at Brunton CID that she had information to give them, misunderstandings to clear up. No, she would rather come to the station than be interviewed at her place of work. She was asked to hold the line, then told within thirty seconds that DCI Peach would see her at four o’clock that afternoon.

  Now, sitting in the windowless interview room with the cassette turning silently, hypnotically, in front of her, she was not so sure that it had been a good idea to come here. This man Peach, with his dark, gimlet eyes and his shining bald head, seemed even more formidable on his home ground. He looked at her with a slow smile, seeming both to understand how nervous she was and to relish the fact. ‘Misunderstandings, I think you told my officer when you rang. Strange word, that. A big word, where a much smaller one like “lie” would seem more appropriate. But I’m at your disposal, Mrs Thompson, for whatever revisions to your statement you now wish to make. I suppose I should warn you that you should be very careful about what you choose to say. Anything less than the truth is likely to land you in the deepest doo-doo. Of course, if you're here to tell us that you killed Timothy John Hayes, that would be very straightforward indeed.’

  ‘I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘You’re sure about that? It would be best to tell us now if you did. Get a good lawyer and go for the crime-passionnel defence would be my advice. Dress smartly and play the wronged woman and it’s surprising what a jury will take.’

  ‘I didn’t kill him.’

  Peach’s smile disappeared abruptly. ‘Then why did you lie to us so comprehensively on Monday?’

  ‘I didn’t lie. I concealed things.’

  He shook his head sadly. ‘Impeding the course of justice, we call it. It can lead to very serious charges when you impede a murder investigation.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you about my relationship with Tim Hayes.’

  ‘You didn’t tell us about a lot of things.’

  This man hadn’t a sympathetic fibre in his body: plainly he understood nothing about passion. Clare said plaintively, ‘It was over. You can understand me wanting to conceal it, surely?’

  ‘I can understand that you withheld information after a brutal murder.’

  ‘It was all over between Tim and me. Three weeks before he was killed.’

  ‘Interesting. You must have been very resentful about that.’ Clare wanted to scream at this squat little man that she had got rid of Tim, that he had still wanted her when she decided to terminate the affair. But she didn’t know what Jason had told them and she couldn’t afford to be caught out again. She said dully, ‘I hated Tim. Hated him for the manner in which he told me it was over. You say his murder was brutal. So was the way he ditched me. At least it opened my eyes to the sort of man he really was. For two years, I hadn’t wanted to contemplate that.’

  ‘What time did you leave the Gisburn Hotel last Friday evening?’

  She watched the fresh-faced officer he had introduced as DC Murphy as he prepared to make a note of her reply. Despite the brusqueness of Peach’s question, her mind was quite calm. She told herself that she had expected this, that she had Jason as a witness if she played it carefully. ‘The majority of people left after Tim’s speech, at about eleven o’clock.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘No. I waited around for a while, until I was sure that my services were no longer required.’ She was studiously neutral on the last phrase. ‘I was still Tim’s personal assistant, and an efficient one. It was a point of honour with me not to let the break-up of our relationship affect my work.’

  ‘Highly commendable. When did you leave?’

  ‘Jason got a lift home with the Johnsons, who live in the road next to ours. I sat at a table at one end of the main bar whilst Tim Hayes talked to people who had been at the dinner. Waited until I was quite sure that my employer wouldn’t need me again that evening.’

  ‘No one has reported seeing you there.’

  She smiled wanly. ‘There weren’t many people around by then. And it’s part of a PA’s job to be unobtrusive at times like that.’

  ‘So when did you leave?’

  ‘It must have been just before midnight, I should think. I wasn’t watching the clock at the time.’

  ‘Are there any witnesses to that?’

  ‘No. Except that there is one, in a way. I never saw him, but my husband had gone back to the hotel to look for me. Apparently he didn’t know Hayes and I were finished and he had some vague idea of catching us together.’

  ‘But he didn’t find you.’

  ‘No. I must have left whilst he was looking round the hotel for me. I
drove my own car home slowly and carefully - I was very tired by that time. I’d worked hard all week organizing the function and I suppose I was emotionally exhausted as well. I was still in the garage when Jason came in, so at least he can confirm the time when I arrived home.’

  Brendan Murphy looked up from his notes. He was tall and gangling, with a fresh, innocent young face; he could hardly have presented a greater contrast with the intense, watchful man beside him. Because of his name and his appearance, Clare had expected him to speak with an Irish brogue: it was quite a shock when he spoke softly with an accent which was unmistakably Brunton. ‘Would you say your husband is a passionate man, Mrs Thompson?’

  ‘I would, yes.’ She was suddenly proud of the feelings she could arouse in Jason, of the way they would now resolve their problems and get on with their lives. But she saw too late where this was going and said with deliberate, almost comic, understatement. ‘I believe he is very fond of me.’

  ‘Then it must have occurred to you that he went back to the hotel that night to kill Timothy Hayes.’

  ‘No. He didn’t do that.’

  ‘Perhaps he had no clear idea what he was going to do when he went there, but when the opportunity arose he got rid of him once and for all.’ DC Murphy’s voice was soft and infinitely persuasive.

  For an instant, part of Clare exulted. Jason surely couldn’t have committed murder, and the fact that they were even considering it meant that they were no longer thinking of her as their culprit. Then she hastened to defend him. ‘Jason was back home before Hayes was killed. I was in the garage when he came in and I can account for that.’

  ‘How can you be so sure of the time when Mr Hayes died?’

  ‘I can’t. But he was still in the main bar when I left and Jason was home at the same time at me - well, perhaps a couple of minutes later.’

  ‘But you’ve just told us that you drove home very slowly.’

  ‘Jason isn’t a quick driver. He must have left the hotel immediately after me to arrive home when he did.’

  They waited to see if she would offer them any further thoughts, but she held her nerve as the silence stretched, feeling instinctively that any more elaborate protestation of her husband’s innocence would ring false. Peach eventually said heavily, ‘So who was holding Mr Hayes’s pistol when it blew half his head away, Mrs Thompson?’

  She bit back the reply that the answer to that was surely their business, not hers. But she knew now that the crisis was past, that the real pressure was off. She said calmly. ‘I don’t know. What I do know is that you’ve been questioning people like Mrs Hayes and Matthew Ballack and Leroy Moore. You no doubt know quite a lot about people’s movements on that night.’

  When she had gone, Brendan Murphy said, ‘She tried hard to take herself and her husband out of the frame when she mentioned those other three. She never even thought of mentioning Jane Martin.’

  Peach himself dearly wanted to rule out the delicious Ms Martin. But he said sternly, ‘Perhaps she didn’t know that Hayes had been near young Jane or that we’re interested in her. As for you, you’re still too much affected by a pretty face, lad. You’ll need to watch that. Stops you being objective.’

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Leroy Moore was thinking that he hadn’t felt so nervous for a long time. He sat on the chair in Clare Thompson’s office, waiting to see this man he had never seen before, who it seemed was now in charge of his destiny.

  He didn’t have long to wait. Matthew Ballack buzzed the intercom. The woman who had accepted that she was now his personal assistant said, ‘You can go in now, Mr Moore.’

  The room didn’t seem to have changed since he had seen Timothy Hayes in here and been offered his promotion two weeks ago, but Leroy was too much on edge to notice any details. The man in the dark suit and red tie didn’t get up from his desk. Leroy took the chair towards which he was motioned. Matthew Ballack gave him a guarded smile and said, ‘Mr Moore, this is what you might call a “clear the air” interview. I’m having them with several people in the firm. How would you describe your role under Mr Hayes?’

  Leroy cleared his throat, trying to remember the words he had rehearsed so carefully with Jane Martin last night. ‘I did various things connected with the firm’s security. There was more need for security as the range of activities expanded.’ The phrases had seemed easy enough when Jane had given them to him, but they felt now like a foreign language upon his tongue. He cut the rest and said too eagerly, ‘I’d just been promoted when he died. Made the Head of Security. But you probably know that.’

  ‘I didn’t, actually. Things were left in a bit of a mess, to be frank with you. Tell me more about your role in the firm and what you do for us.’

  ‘I was hoping to discuss that with you today, sir. Mr Hayes hadn’t had time to define my role when he died.’

  Ballack looked at him for a long moment, watching him become more uncomfortable with the silence. Then, as if deciding to put Moore out of his misery, he said, ‘You knocked people about, didn’t you, Mr Moore? Took Hayes’s orders and made people jump into line. I’ve read your file. It doesn’t tell me much about you and what you did, but I know where you came from.’

  ‘That’s a bit unfair, sir. I agree I had to—’

  ‘We’re going to have to let you go, Mr Moore. It’s nothing personal, but there isn’t going to be that sort of work for you here any more.’

  ‘I’m very versatile, Mr Ballack. I’ve done all sorts of things. Mr Hayes must have been pleased with my work, or he wouldn’t have—’

  ‘I’m sure he was. Hayes liked people who could do the dirty stuff and leave him with his hands looking clean. I’m a different sort of chap, Mr Moore. There isn’t going to be that sort of work. It’s nothing personal.’

  ‘He was a whited sepulchre!’ The old biblical phrase from his Sunday School days, the one Peach had used about Hayes, was out before Leroy knew it was coming.

  Matthew Ballack looked at him with renewed interest. ‘You didn’t like him.'

  ‘I didn’t like him or the work he gave me. I’d no choice at first. But I’ve changed since then.’ Leroy looked at the watchful eyes in the lined, experienced face on the other side of the desk, sensing that this man too had had no time for the dead Hayes, striving now to convince him of the depth of his own hatred. ‘He raped my girl! I’m glad he’s dead!’

  ‘Whoa there!’ Matthew held up his hand to stop this runaway colt. ‘Be careful what you’re saying. I hold no brief for Tim Hayes, as you no doubt realize by now. But rape doesn’t seem quite his style. He wasn’t a man to take risks, for a start.’ He released a little of his own bitter contempt into that thought.

  ‘She’s a croupier at the casino. He didn’t just hold a knife against her throat whilst he shagged her. The bastard used Rohypnol.’

  ‘That’s more his style,’ said Ballack quietly.

  ‘He was offering me the Head of Security post as a bribe to keep my mouth shut.’ There was nothing to be lost now: the post was being taken away from him anyway. ‘I was biding my time. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.’

  There was a long pause whilst the two men who had hated Hayes stared at each other, Ballack very still and Moore breathing heavily. Then Matthew said, ‘What sort of future did you see for yourself here, Leroy?’

  It was the first time the man had used his forename. ‘Less of the stuff I’d done before. More genuine security work. Checking the bouncers at the casino, making sure we get the right sort of people, not thugs. Tidying up the betting shops. I’m willing to turn my hand to anything, especially if you’re going to clean up the firm.’

  ‘You haven’t been a regular employee until now. How about a three-month probationary period? To see how you perform and whether there is genuine work for you here. To let you see whether you like the new regime.’

  Leroy could not keep a smile off his face. He said eagerly, ‘You’ll need personal security, if you’re going to clean th
ings up. There are some pretty dodgy characters around the edges, people who won’t take kindly to being flung out.’

  ‘I’m sure there are. And you’d know all about that,’ said Ballack grimly.

  ‘I won’t let you down. And when you’ve cleaned the place up, you’ll find me indispensable!’ Leroy had managed to get one of Jane’s words in at last.

  Matthew Ballack came out of his office with Leroy Moore, was still talking animatedly to him as they went through Clare Thompson's office and out into the car park. The new boss was gathering confidence, Clare thought.

  There was quite a contrast between the man of forty-seven who looked much older and the squat young black man of twenty-four who could have passed for twenty. Both of them looked as if they were taking on a new lease of life and looking forward to it. She wondered what part in the future of the firm these two would play, where the firm itself might be in a year’s time.

  The strange and overriding thought at the moment was both of those smiling men must surely be murder suspects.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Leroy Moore’s elation lasted for precisely an hour.

  At half past seven that evening, he was taking his supermarket meal out of the microwave when his phone rang. ‘DCI Peach here. We need to see you again, Mr Moore. Urgently.’ Leroy didn’t like the way he said the last word. And surely a DCI didn’t normally phone people himself? He said uncertainly, ‘Tonight?’

  He could almost see the man’s sardonic smile. ‘No. Tomorrow morning will do. Give you time to think about things, won’t it? You’ve got rather a lot of explaining to do. Nine thirty at Brunton nick, Mr Moore. I may wish to record what you say this time, you see. To make sure there are no misunderstandings later.’