by Graham Ison
‘D’you know the name of this actor?’
‘No, I don’t recall it. Come to think of it, I don’t know that I ever knew it.’
‘Would Mr Lavery know, d’you think?’
Marshall looked up sharply. ‘I’m not sure he even knew of his existence, or if he did, probably preferred to pretend he didn’t.’
‘How did you know then?’ asked Gaffney quietly.
Marshall smiled. ‘As I said just now, the Temple is a hotbed of gossip, my dear fellow, but as is always the case
with these things, the husband would be the last to hear. But why does this actor interest you?’
‘To eliminate him from the inquiry … or not, as the case may be.’
‘Yes,’ said Marshall, ‘I suppose so. I’m sorry I can’t help you.’ He paused. ‘I suppose you could ask Dudley ‘I could,’ said Gaffney, ‘but I’d prefer not to.’
Marshall nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I think you’re right.’
‘I understand that Mr Lavery once defended a man called Masters?’
Marshall’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Why should you ask that?’
Gaffney shrugged. ‘No particular reason. I just happened to come across it on a file recently.’
‘What a strange coincidence.’ Marshall looked as though he didn’t believe that, but then he was a criminal lawyer; questioning statements was his business. ‘As a matter of fact, we were both involved in that case; Dudley led me. Masters and three of his cohorts were up at the Bailey. Conspiracy to rob, if I remember correctly, plus malicious wounding, GBH, and one or two other odds-and-sods; the Crown Prosecution Service had really gone to town for a change. Didn’t do’em much good, mind you.’ He smirked at the recollection. ‘It was a complex tale — good one to defend — and absolutely ideal for Dudley. Masters had apparently sold some merchandise to another — so the story went — but the said purchaser had failed to pay. Masters and his co-conspirators had repossessed the goods, so it was said, but in the process had repossessed slightly more than they were entitled to. In addition, there was damage to property, like the breaking down of doors, and sundry employees of the welshing purchaser appear to have suffered actual bodily harm — or worse — during the incident. I’m sure you visualise the scene, Chief Superintendent?’ Marshall spoke airily and waved a hand vaguely above his head.
Gaffney smiled. ‘Indeed I do.’
‘Dudley did well. He blew the conspiracy indictment apart, and a couple of them went down for robbery, but friend
Masters got off.’ Marshall paused and put his head on one side. ‘Do you ski at all, Chief Superintendent?’
Gaffney looked puzzled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I do sometimes skate on thin ice, though,’ he added drily.
Marshall laughed. ‘It’s just that the way Dudley cut through the indictments against Masters reminded me of a downhill slalom champion. Apparently it couldn’t be proved that he had actually taken part, even though he was there. Fickle things, juries.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Gaffney with feeling. ‘Anyway, on the day the trial ended, Dudley had arranged to take Elizabeth to lunch — he’d obviously learned from having neglected his previous wife — and she met him at court. Masters was there, in the entrance hall, having just been acquitted, of course, and was vigorously pumping our hands, when Liz turned up. So Masters offered to take us all out to lunch … oh! and he offered us all the free use of his villa in Spain. Well, I say all of us; it was obviously directed more at Dudley than at me. For two reasons, I think: Dudley was the silk, and he’d got a very attractive wife.’
‘You’re not suggesting — ’
‘I’m not suggesting anything, Chief Superintendent, but as a general rule, villains are insensitive to social barriers, other than those which they themselves erect. But then I don’t have to tell you that, do I?’
‘A villain? Is that how you saw him?’ asked Gaffney. Marshall smiled owlishly. ‘Oh, come now, Chief Superintendent. I know he describes himself as a company director, but he has got a previous for armed robbery, albeit years ago, and he’d just got off another, similar count.’ Gaffney smiled and shook his head, and Marshall laughed. ‘Don’t tell me that you’re one of those policemen who believe all that crap about innocent until proved guilty, surely?’ He smoothed a hand across the top of his desk. ‘He might have a Rolls-Royce and a lot of money, but he’s basically a crook.’ He smiled. ‘And if you repeat that, I’ll sue you. However, I digress. Dudley refused, naturally. It’s not a good thing to mix business with pleasure — in our trade any more than in
yours — and if anything was guaranteed to put the lid on his becoming Attorney-General, it would have been keeping that sort of company.’
‘When did all this happen?’ Gaffney knew the answer to that, but it was in his nature constantly to cross-check information that came to him in the course of an inquiry.
‘Just before the election; six months before, I suppose.’ Marshall looked sharply at Gaffney. ‘I must say you seem very interested in Masters … ’
Gaffney chose to ignore the implied question. ‘You said he had hopes of becoming Attorney?’
‘Yes, but that was all changed when Purdy died; on election night, you’ll probably recall. Dudley was due to be made Attorney, so he told me, but was offered Purdy’s job at the Home Office instead, which was a tremendous bit of luck for him. Apparently the PM didn’t want to shuffle his new front bench around too much, not right at the start of the administration. It’s a very senior appointment, of course, and one or two noses were put out of joint. Made Dudley a few enemies in the party — ’
‘Enemies?’
Marshall laughed. ‘Only political ones,’ he said. ‘Not the sort you’re looking for. Funnily enough, it didn’t please Liz too much, either.’
‘Really?’
‘She rather fancied being Lady Lavery, which she would have been if Dudley had been made a law officer, but of course Home Secretaries don’t get automatic knighthoods.’ ‘Did that cause a rift between them?’ asked Gaffney. Marshall laughed outright. ‘A rift? My dear fellow, he worshipped the very ground she walked on, and she, in turn, deferred to him in everything. That marriage was as solid as a rock. That’s why it’s such a bloody tragedy.’
Chapter Six
‘I understand you wanted to see me, sir?’ asked DCI Lisle.
Gaffney nodded. ‘Where’s the Home Secretary7 at the moment?’
‘He’s at the House, sir. John Selway’s with him.’
‘Sit down, Tony.’ Gaffney was not very impressed with Tony Lisle. He was young for a chief inspector, and was said — by others — to be a rising star. Gaffney had to admit that he was prejudiced against the Special Course scheme which projected some talented youngsters into the higher ranks when they weren’t always ready for it, and Gaffney knew of one such case which had had disastrous and tragic results. He sighed. ‘How’s the Home Secretary taking it?’ ‘Well, he’s a typical politician, sir. Remarkably resilient; but I dare say it’ll hit him eventually.’
‘What d’you mean? That it hasn’t really sunk in yet?’
‘Oh, I think it’s sunk in all right, but I don’t think he’s come to terms with the fact that it’s permanent, and what’s more, just what effect it’ll have on his political career.’
‘Tony,’ said Gaffney, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands loosely behind his head, ‘what the bloody hell are you talking about?’
Lisle sat up a little. ‘Well … He seems to be carrying on more or less as though nothing’s happened. He’s submerged himself in work, and the only reminder is when someone comes up to him and murmurs something sympathetic about his loss. Then he looks all sort of funereal and thanks them, then he carries on again. It’s almost as if he’s trying to pretend it hasn’t happened. I think it’ll come home to roost during the recess when he hasn’t got the Commons to go to.’
‘What’ll he do then?’
‘Difficult to say, really, sir. I suppo
se he’ll spend some time in the country — his place in Shropshire — but I don’t know if he’ll have a holiday abroad this year.’
‘Where does he usually go?’
‘South of France. Stays with Earl Barclay — or at least at Earl Barclay’s place — at Le Trayas.’
‘Who’s Earl Barclay? I’ve never heard of him.’
Lisle smiled. ‘Oh, he’s not a real earl, sir, it’s his name; he’s an American banker, I think.’
‘Mmm. Tell me, Tony, was Elizabeth Lavery over the side?’
Lisle’s eyes opened in astonishment. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir’
‘Yes you do. And don’t come that old loyalty crap with me. You work for Special Branch, not the Home Secretary, and one day, when you’ve finished the assignment you’re on, you’ll come back and work here again. So don’t forget who your guv’nors arc.’
‘No, sir, well I don’t — ’
‘Right, then. Was she over the side? Was she having it off? In short, was she having an affair with another man? That plain enough for you?’
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘Which? Don’t think it’s plain enough; or no, she wasn’t at it?’
‘I don’t think she was having an affair, sir.’ Lisle spoke flatly; he was unaccustomed to the type of onslaught that Gaffney had just unleashed on him.
‘Right. Now, I’ve had their marriage described to me as rock solid. Would you go along with that?’
For a moment or two, Lisle remained silent while his conscience sorted itself out. He glanced at Gaffney’s expression of mounting impatience, and decided rapidly which way to play it. ‘I got the impression they weren’t very close, sir,’ he said hesitantly.
‘Why? Did they fight, argue, what?’
‘Well no … It’s just a feeling I got.’
‘Good. Thanks very much for dropping in. And now I want to see Selway. And I mean now.’
‘Yes, sir, but he’s at the House with the Home Secretary — ’ ‘I know,’ said Gaffney tersely. ‘You told me. So go and relieve him.’ He had decided that Lisle was probably not the best man to be guarding the Home Secretary, and determined to talk to Commander Scott about it when the latter returned from leave.
‘What time did you take the Home Secretary from the House to his club, John? I presume that’s what happened?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ Selway dropped into Gaffney’s armchair and crossed his legs. ‘We were at the House in time for prayers and stayed there until six-fifty.’ Selway had got his pocket book out now. ‘We arrived at his club just before seven, minutes before, in fact; traffic wasn’t too bad.’
‘Where is his club, John?’
‘It’s the Chesterfield, sir, in South Molton Street.’
‘Right, yes, I know it. Now then, he told me that he’d rung his wife before he left the House. Did you know about that?’
‘Not at the time, sir. He told me that later, much later; when we got back to the House for the ten o’clock division.’
‘So you didn’t know about these phone calls he’d been making until then?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did this often happen? This business of getting worried about his wife, and phoning up to see if she was all right?’ Sclway shrugged. ‘I don’t know, sir. If he did, it’d be more a case of checking up on her, I should have thought.’ ‘Oh? Was she two-timing him, then?’
Again Selway shrugged. ‘I don’t know for sure, sir, but let me say that I wouldn’t have been surprised.’
‘Why d’you say that?’
‘Don’t know exactly, but I always got the impression that she didn’t care for him as much as he cared for her. She seemed to do whatever she wanted to do; always got her own way. He’s a fool in my opinion.’ Selway leaned forward
slightly. ‘D’you know, guv’nor, he bought her a new car for a birthday present and she cribbed about the colour, so he had it changed.’
Gaffney laughed. ‘You’d do that for your missus, wouldn’t you?’
Selway scoffed. ‘She’d be lucky if she got a bicycle … and she’d have what she was given.’ He leaned back in his chair again. ‘The farmhouse is another bone of contention
‘In what way?’
‘They’ve got this old farmhouse in Shropshire, miles from anywhere. And madam was not very keen on that at all. Apart from the bloody awful journey up there, there was nothing to do when they arrived; well, nothing for her to do, that is. I got the impression she liked the bright lights, and there’s not a lot of them up there.’
‘And they rowed about it?’
Selway shook his head. ‘They never rowed about anything. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice to her, but I’ve heard her complaining about having to spend weekends up there, more than once, and on one occasion she refused point-blank to go, right at the last minute.’
‘What happened?’
‘She stayed in London … at Cutler’s Mews, I suppose.’
‘And he went.’
‘Had to. It was a civic dinner in the constituency, if I remember correctly. Quite frankly, I think the main problem was the disparity in ages: there’s something like twenty years between them.’ Sclway laughed. ‘For her it must have been like trying to get her father to go to a disco.’
Gaffney nodded. ‘Yes, I know. He’s fifty-four; she was thirty-four.’
‘I think they were just on different wavelengths,’ said Selway. ‘A generation gap, I suppose you’d call it. But in public, of course, they were brilliant — a really devoted couple as far as the rest of the world was concerned — not a sign that she was bored out of her mind. Still, she was an actress … and I’ve yet to meet a politician who isn’t an actor.’ Selway paused. ‘Not that he had to act. He absolutely
adored her, and it showed: he’d have given her anything.’ ‘You said that she didn’t like going to Shropshire. What did she do when she stayed in London?’
‘Occupied herself with her film work, I suppose.’
‘Work?’
‘Only very conventional stuff, as befits the wife of a Home Secretary.’
Gaffney smiled inwardly at the perversity of that. A liaison with a main-index villain, if it turned out to be true, certainly didn’t befit the wife of a Home Secretary. ‘What was this work? Any idea?’
‘Acted as a consultant of some sort, sir … to a film company, I believe. At least, that’s what they said; to tell you the truth, I never knew for certain.’ Sclway stretched out his legs. ‘D’you mind if I smoke, guv’nor?’ He had been a policeman for twenty-five years — twenty of them in Special Branch — and had known Gaffney when he too had been a sergeant. ‘Go ahead, John.’ Gaffney pushed an ashtray across his desk. ‘There was one occasion when he had a gentle go at her — more in sorrow than anger, I suspect — about not going up to the constituency with him very often.’ Selway paused thoughtfully. ‘It was at Cutler’s Mews, in the sitting room, about a year ago now, I suppose; can’t be sure. There had been some talk of a change in the programme. It was the usual thing: no one knew for certain, and no one had the guts to ask him, so I went to have a quick word.’
Gaffney laughed. ‘I’ve had some of that,’ he said. ‘Anyhow,’ continued Selway, ‘I’d got as far as the sitting room door, when I heard him saying that he wished she’d go up to Shropshire more often. Well that didn’t please madam at all. She gave him a right bollocking — four-letter words and all — about having her own career and not having time to waste on pudding-faced voters.’ Selway blew a cloud of smoke into the air. ‘They obviously didn’t know I was there, so I thought it was better to retreat, and wait until later to see him.’
‘Very wise.’ Gaffney smiled, thinking back to his days at Downing Street. ‘Did you ever hear anything about another man?’
Selway looked thoughtful for a moment or two. ‘No, sir,’ he said firmly, ‘but as I said just now, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She was a bloody attractive woman, and friendly, too.’ Gaffney raised an eyebrow. ‘Fr
iendly?’
Selway grinned. ‘Not that friendly,’ he said. ‘I meant towards the likes of us. There was nothing stuck-up about her. Always ready to share a joke with the lads, which is more than I can say for some. To be perfectly honest, I liked her: she was a nice girl.’
‘About the night before last, John. You say you took him to the Chesterfield at seven o’clock?’ Sclway nodded. ‘And he stayed there until when?’
Selway’s gaze dropped to his pocket book. ‘Left there at nine-twenty, sir, and got to the House at half-past.’
‘Mmm, that more or less accords with what he said; I think he put the time of return at a quarter to ten. Then he made another phone call, he said — ’ Gaffney looked up. ‘Where would that have been from? His office?’
‘No idea, sir. I suppose so. Things haven’t changed much since you were on with the PM. 1 was in Speaker’s Court, waiting … been there about ten minutes, I suppose, when the PC on Ladies’ Gallery Entrance came across and said the old man wanted to see me, urgently.’
‘So that would have been about quarter to ten?’
Selway consulted his pocket book again. ‘A quarter to ten exactly, sir. I went up to his office and he told me that he had tried several times that evening to get in touch with his wife. He said that she was supposed to be at home, but wasn’t answering the phone; he asked me if I could get someone to check.’
‘And that’s when you rang the Diplomatic Protection Group?’
‘No, sir. I rang the Special Branch duty officer, Mr Wisley. I presume that he rang the DPG.’
Gaffney nodded. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, ‘I’ve got that written down somewhere. Did the Home Secretary mention that he’d phoned his home as early as six-thirty?’ He looked down at his notes.
‘No, sir, he just said several times. Why? Is it important?’ ‘Only in that it might help to fix the time of death perhaps more accurately than the pathologist was able to. On the other hand, Mrs Lavery could have been out until say nine, come in and been murdered by someone who followed her through the front door. There are all sorts of permutations. However, that’s my problem, not yours. So you didn’t actually see him making any of these phone calls?’