Blood Lines

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  There was no doubt that she had been shaken by the event. She was pale under her tan, her face wore the numb look of shock, her eyes were pink-rimmed, and she fiddled constantly with a handkerchief crumpled in her strong fingers. But she was determinedly under control, and looked straight into Slider’s face with a directness that rather disturbed him. It reminded him of Joanna.

  ‘This must have been a shock for you,’ he began. ‘I won’t keep you too long, but I want to get an overall picture of the events of the evening, and I believe you are in charge of the programme. Am I right?’

  ‘Except for Martin Fletcher – the editor. But he’s more of a policy-maker. The day-to-day, hands-on running of things is down to me.’

  Slider smiled. ‘I’ve never been quite sure what a producer does.’

  ‘The short answer is everything. But a programme like this is pretty easy compared to, say, drama, where you’ve got studio sets, outside shots, VT, actors, costumes, all the hoo-ha to keep track of. Properties alone can give you grey hairs – practicals, for instance, always go wrong. I started off as a properties buyer, so I know a bit about it. And actors are the very devil. But with Question you’ve got one set and five guests and that’s that.’

  ‘Yes, I see. So, then, can you tell me what time Mr Greatrex arrived?’

  ‘Half past six. I went down to meet him at reception and took him up to green.’

  ‘Green?’

  ‘Sorry, the greenroom. Sometimes called the hospitality room.’

  ‘Ah. For drinks?’

  ‘And briefing,’ she corrected with a faint smile. ‘Not that Roger needed briefing, really, he’s been on the show so often.’

  ‘Has he?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ The question seemed to embarrass her for some reason. A slight pinkness appeared in her cheeks. ‘He’s one of our leading critics and columnists,’ she said as if justifying herself. ‘And besides that, he’s such an all-round man, with so many interests, we’ve had him for several different topics. He’s a great communicator, too. We always get a lively discussion going when we have him, that’s why we—’ Her voice faded and her face drained as she remembered. ‘I can’t believe he’s dead. I can’t believe he would do a thing like that. He was laughing with me only—’ She stopped and shut her lips tight.

  ‘He was quite happy when he arrived? Relaxed, nothing apparently on his mind?’

  She nodded, as if speaking was too risky.

  ‘Was he the first to arrive?’ She nodded again. ‘And you met all the guests in the same way?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘No, my assistant, Phil, went down for the others.’

  ‘And they were all taken to the greenroom?’

  ‘Except for Jack Mallet. Martin took him away for a private drink – politics, you know. Martin always has to be thinking about budgets. The others had drinks and sandwiches in the greenroom. Dame Barbara was the last to arrive. I didn’t actually see her because I had to go back to the studio while Phil was fetching her.’

  ‘Leaving them alone?’

  ‘Gosh no, Dorothy – one of the production assistants – was there all the time, and Phil was in and out. It’s an absolute rule that the guests mustn’t be left alone at any time. It is a live show, you see.’

  ‘So just before Dame Barbara arrived, you went to the studio. What time was that?’

  ‘Oh, about sevenish I suppose,’ she said vaguely. ‘I don’t know exactly.’

  ‘And at that point Mr Greatrex was in the greenroom having drinks and sandwiches, and seemed quite happy and relaxed?’ She nodded; her eyes shone suddenly, and she blinked hard. ‘Did you go back to the greenroom?’

  ‘No, I was busy in and around the studio then, until Dorothy came and told me—’

  ‘Yes?’ he prompted gently. ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘It was awful. She was white as a sheet, and shaking. I couldn’t understand what she was saying at first. I told her to calm down and speak slowly. Then she told me she met Phil in the corridor. She said he was covered in blood, and he just said to her, “Roger’s dead. He’s killed himself,” and told her to run and fetch me.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I said to her, “Are you sure?” or something like that. And then I told her to telephone for the police while I went back to Phil.’

  ‘You didn’t tell her to call for an ambulance?’

  ‘No.’ She stared at him as though the question made no sense.

  ‘You were quite sure he was dead, then?’

  ‘Oh! But I—’ She frowned, and shook her head, looking confused. ‘Phil said he – Dorothy said he was covered in blood. Phil was, I mean. I didn’t think—’ She paused. ‘It never occurred to me that he might still be alive. Phil’s terribly sensible. I suppose I just took his word for it.’

  Slider left it. ‘So where was Phil when you found him?’

  ‘Where Dorothy said, at the door of the men’s room. He looked dreadful. He said, “Roger’s in there. He’s killed himself. He’s c—” She stopped, swallowed with a dry click, and tried again. ‘He said, “He’s cut his throat.”’ Her eyes filled again, and she shook her head slowly from side to side, staring sightlessly at the floor.

  Slider saw she needed steadying, and gave her a practical question to answer. ‘What time was it when Dorothy came to fetch you?’

  She breathed deeply and managed to answer. ‘I’m not sure to the minute. Twenty, twenty-five past seven, something like that. I didn’t look at my watch.’

  ‘And did you go into the men’s room?’

  ‘No. Phil said he’d been guarding the door, and no-one had been in except him, and no-one else must go in until the police came.’

  Slider didn’t comment on that. He asked, ‘So you didn’t actually know that it was Mr Greatrex in there?’

  She licked her lips. ‘I just – just looked in. For a second. Phil didn’t want me to, but I had to.’

  Bluebeard’s Castle, Slider thought, not without sympathy. Of course she had to. Wouldn’t anyone? And this was her punishment, that she would never be able to erase from her memory the picture of what she saw.

  ‘Can I go now?’ she asked. ‘I’ve still got a lot of sorting out to do for the programme.’

  ‘What do you do about that?’ Slider asked out of interest. ‘It was supposed to be live, wasn’t it?’

  She put her hands to her cheeks in a curious, unfinished gesture, and then said almost absently, ‘Oh, we have one in the can for emergencies.’

  ‘Here’s one I prepared earlier?’ Slider said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled herself together. ‘Of course, it puts the schedule out. This Question was announced last week. But I suppose it will be all over the papers by tomorrow morning, and everyone will know why it was changed.’ She looked into his face, bravely. ‘Will someone have told his wife?’

  ‘That will be dealt with by the local police. Someone will go round from the nearest station.’

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Poor Caroline.’ It was the most natural thing for anyone to say, but there was something about the way Miss Parsons said it that puzzled Slider a little, though he could not immediately decide what.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Brief Encounter

  Philip Somers was a tall, gangling man in his twenties, dressed, as the fashion was, in clothes of various shades of beige that looked too big for him, and with floppy, toffee-coloured hair which kept slipping forward to hang like a pony’s forelock over his brow, giving him a somewhat daft look. His cheeks were lardy with shock, which seemed with him to be taking the form of anger: his indeterminate-coloured eyes were glazed and shiny with it. Beyond that, or underneath it, Slider thought he looked drawn, as though from a long illness or constant pain: there were those deep, fine creases like hairline cuts under his eyes that you see in people who have been sick unto death in their recent past.

  He was sitting on the bench in another of those spartan dressing-rooms, a re
d blanket draped over his shoulders, and his stockinged feet set one on top of the other, as if they felt vulnerable without their coverings.

  ‘When am I going to get my shoes back?’ he demanded as soon as he saw Slider. ‘It’s ridiculous, taking them away.’

  ‘I’ve told him, sir, that we didn’t want him to make bloody footmarks which might confuse the investigation,’ Morley said over his head.

  ‘Well, when can I have them back?’

  ‘I’ve brought you a cup of coffee,’ Atherton intervened, holding it out. ‘I hope you take sugar – I had to guess.’

  ‘Yes – thanks – but—’

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Slider, and this is Detective Sergeant Atherton. I’d just like to talk to you about finding Mr Greatrex.’ Even a cursory inspection showed that Somers had a great deal of blood about him. There was blood on his hands, under his fingernails, in his ears and around the edge of his face, flecks of it in his front hair, a smear under his jaw, and stains on his sleeves, on the lapels of his jacket, and on the front of his trousers. ‘You seem to have got yourself into a bit of a mess.’

  ‘That was lifting him up to see if he was dead. And I must have wiped my hands down my front.’

  ‘You seem to have blood on your face, too.’

  ‘I suppose I must have put my hands to my face – the shock, or something.’ He imitated the gesture. ‘I tried to wipe my face on my hanky. They wouldn’t let me wash. You try to do the right thing, and this is all the thanks you get!’

  ‘I won’t keep you very long. There’s just a few things I want to ask you while it’s all fresh in your mind. I’m trying to build up a picture of Mr Greatrex’s exact movements this evening.’

  ‘Well, it’s no good asking me,’ Somers said petulantly. ‘I don’t know where he went. I was the one who went to look for him.’

  ‘He was lost? Missing?’

  ‘Not really lost, of course, but he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. You see, everyone was asked to come at six forty-five, but they all arrived at different times, and Dame Barbara was late. Typical! I mean, the only woman, so naturally I wanted to get her to make-up first, but I couldn’t hoosh her off the moment she arrived, so I asked Roger if he’d go first, since he was the first to arrive – for a wonder – and he never has more than just the shine taken off. He said okay, and I said I’d take him in a sec, as soon as Fiona came back, because I couldn’t leave Dame Barbara alone, not when she’d just arrived, and bloody Dorothy had disappeared again. But Roger said not to bother, he knew the way all right, and he’d go on his own, so I said okay, and he went.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Just after seven, I suppose. Well, anyway, about ten past he hadn’t come back and I thought I’d better go and fetch him, because if he got chatting to Sylvia – the make-up designer – he’d be there all night – she talks like a train – and time was getting on. So I went up to make-up—’

  ‘Up?’

  ‘Oh, yes, didn’t I say? There’s been a burst pipe and our make-up room can’t be used because the electrics aren’t safe, so we were using number five upstairs. It’s all right, I had told Roger, he knew where to go. The layout’s exactly the same on five as down here, he understood that, he only had to go up one floor.’

  ‘I see. So you went upstairs to make-up,’ Slider prompted.

  ‘Yes, and Sylvia said he’d never turned up. Then I got worried.’

  ‘Worried? Why worried? What were you afraid had happened?’

  ‘Nothing, I don’t mean that,’ he said irritably. ‘But he was one of our panellists. You can’t go mislaying your panellists like that, not on a live show. And I shouldn’t have let him go alone. So I went looking for him.’ His mouth pulled down. ‘If I’d known–! Well, I didn’t really know where to look. I popped my head round a few doors, and then I thought of the loo. We had one guest once who was so nervous he got sick and I showed him to the loo and then I couldn’t get him out, he just kept throwing up. Of course, I didn’t think Roger was nervous like that. But anyway, I went and looked and just pushed the door open on the off-chance and – and there he was.’

  ‘That was the nearest lavatory to the greenroom, was it?’

  ‘Yes – well, on this floor, anyway.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘The gents and ladies are alternate, on alternate floors,’ Somers said, and seeing he had not explained himself sufficiently, began again. ‘On this floor, if you turn right out of green and go to staircase four, there’s a ladies by the lift, and immediately above it, on the fifth floor, there’s a gents. But if you turn left out of green and go to staircase five, there’s a gents on this floor and a ladies above. D’you follow me?’

  As far as I’d like to, Slider thought. ‘And which way is the make-up room?’

  ‘From the greenroom? You turn right, and it’s past staircase four and on the right.’

  ‘So if Mr Greatrex had been going up to the make-up room, he would have passed a men’s room upstairs, on the next floor.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Somers did not seem to see where that was leading. ‘But I told you, Sylvia said he never arrived at make-up.’

  ‘Quite so. But considering where he ended up, perhaps he never actually meant to go there.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Somers. ‘Well, I don’t know. Maybe he just had to go, you know,’ he added delicately, ‘and decided to go first.’

  Slider moved on. ‘What time was it when you found Mr Greatrex?’

  ‘About twenty past, I suppose. I didn’t look at my watch, but I’d been looking for him for about ten minutes.’

  ‘You opened the door, and saw him – what, lying down?’

  ‘Yes, of course. What do you think, he was dancing a jig?’

  ‘Lying down how?’

  ‘He was crumpled up, more or less face down.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘There was blood everywhere. I knew he was dead straightaway, but I had to be sure.’ His voice was toneless. ‘So I went and lifted him up. I thought at first maybe he’d slashed his wrists, but when I took him by the shoulders to turn him over, his head – his head sort of flopped and – and rolled backwards—’ He put his hands to his face, dragging at his cheeks with his knuckles. ‘It was horrible. Like a mouth opening. I dropped him and got out as fast as I could. I thought I was going to be sick. I wanted to run and run, but as soon as I was outside I realised I had to stay there and stop anyone else going in. But I had to get help. I didn’t know what to do. And then Dorothy came round the corner, and I told her to run and find Fiona and tell her that Roger Greatrex had killed himself, and to call the police.’ He seemed suddenly exhausted now, and looked greyly at Slider as though asking for mercy.

  Slider pressed on. ‘So you stayed there outside the door until the police arrived? You didn’t go back in?’ He shook his head. ‘And no-one else went in?’

  ‘No-one. When Fiona came, she wanted to see him. I tried to stop her, but she insisted, so I made her just look from the door. One quick look was enough.’

  ‘Just one more thing, Mr Somers,’ Slider said, leaning forward confidentially, letting his hands dangle between his knees. ‘It’s rather important. When you first went in, where was the knife?’

  ‘The knife?’ Somers said blankly. Exhaustion or prevarication?

  ‘Yes, the knife. Whereabouts was it? Under the body, beside it, where?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I didn’t see any knife.’

  ‘You must have seen it, Mr Somers,’ Slider said, giving him a chance, ‘because you threw it across the room. Or did you kick it out of the way? An automatic gesture of revulsion, perhaps – quite understandable in the circumstances.’

  Somers looked frightened. ‘I didn’t touch it. I tell you I didn’t see any knife!’

  Slider straightened up. ‘Very well, Mr Somers, thank you. I’ll leave you in peace for a bit. But I will want to talk to you again later.’

 
Outside, Atherton said, ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘I had my doubts from the beginning about suicide, but I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘And now you are?’

  ‘Somers says he didn’t touch the knife. He’s quite forceful about it. So what was it doing on the other side of the room?’

  Atherton thought it out. ‘Greatrex didn’t cut his throat over there, because the blood’s all by the basins.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Maybe he threw the knife away after he made the cut?’

  Slider shook his head. ‘With a cut like that, he’d have collapsed instantly. He’d have dropped the knife where he stood.’

  ‘Well, let’s say it’s likely. So – either someone else went in there and moved the knife – or Somers is lying and he moved it—’

  ‘Or the murderer threw the knife aside after making the fatal cut,’ Slider concluded.

  ‘That sounds logical, captain. But you said you had doubts from the beginning?’

  ‘The basin was full of soapy water. If Greatrex was standing facing the mirror with a bowl of soapy water before him, what do you suppose he was doing?’

  ‘You think he was disturbed while washing his hands?’

  ‘Only an obsessive would wash his hands before killing himself; and someone that obsessive would surely empty the basin first. I think someone came up behind him, yes.’

  ‘I wonder why the murderer didn’t pull the plug out? It would have made it look more like suicide.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he even thought about it. I think he had other things on his mind,’ Slider said.

  ‘Specifically?’

  ‘There was something else that Freddie pointed out to me – there was blood on the inside of Greatrex’s top inside pocket, and a corresponding smear on his shirt. Someone with bloody hands was looking for something in that pocket. I wonder if they found it?’