by Oliver Tidy
‘So, you have no doubts it was as he said?’
Romney looked perplexed. ‘You heard him. Do you? We know it was one of them. Why should he lie if it means he is the only one going to be punished for it?’
‘Of course. I’m sure you’re right. Please, ignore me, Tom. I’m naturally suspicious. The French have a saying, you know: if something sounds too good to be true, then it probably isn’t.’ Romney’s knitted brow betrayed his feelings. ‘Ah, please, my friend. Take no notice of me. We have what you English call ‘a result’, I believe. Let us be thankful for that. I dare say it must be as he claims. The evidence would point to it, no?’
‘Yes. Nothing else makes sense. I’m sure he’s our man.’
They imbibed their caffeine and inhaled their nicotine for a comfortable, quiet pause.
‘What sort of sentence do you think he will be handed for ending a man’s life?’ said Poisson, releasing a plume of smoke, like a broken industrial valve.
Romney sighed deeply. ‘Not long enough, in my opinion, even if it was an accident. I don’t know how things are in France, but in the UK it seems to me that the sentencing structure has slowly been so diluted down that it’s only a matter of time before we start letting serial killers off with a caution. With Jez Ray, it all depends on how the Crown Prosecution Service wants to play it. You heard me speaking with his solicitor. We’ll be pressing for Manslaughter, but we must prepare ourselves to have to settle for Misadventure all things considered. We might end up somewhere in the middle, Involuntary Manslaughter. With time spent on remand, his plea-bargaining, the apparent circumstances, the lack of witnesses to scream a contrary opinion to his and the understanding he will only serve half of his time actually in prison, he could be back on the streets in five years or fewer.’
‘It is the same in France,’ said Poisson, with similar melancholy. ‘Driven by accountants I’m sure of it.’
‘My super said something similar recently,’ said Romney.
‘Too many people locked up costs too much money, never mind that as soon as they are back in society most of them persist in reoffending. It’s the victim’s families I feel sorry for. How do I tell his wife, when she has two young children to bring up on her own, that the man responsible for her husband’s death has said sorry and so he’ll be back with his family before her children are out of elementary school?’
Romney changed the depressing subject with a sudden happy thought. ‘Well, that’s a short visit for you.’ And then instantly regretted that the Frenchman might interpret his apparent pleasure at the realisation he was no longer saddled with an outsider for what it was – relief.
If he did, he was decent enough not to indicate it. ‘Certainly much shorter than my previous visits to England. But I won’t be going home immediately.’
‘Oh?’
‘I have a great desire to see something of this historic town now that I am here, especially the castle. I understand it is as fine an example of its type anywhere. I can combine that bit of pleasure with a necessary piece of business: viewing where Paul Henry fell in battle.’
‘Paul Henry? Who was he? A famous French invader?’
‘No, Tom. He is the man Jez Ray killed.’
‘Oh. Yes, of course. Sorry. I forgot.’ Romney tried to cover his embarrassing slip by saying, ‘Why do you need to see that?’
‘When I speak with his family and for my report I must be absolutely clear about all the details. The French expect it.’
‘Right. Well if you’d like an escort, I’ve got just the man who would consider it a pleasure to show you around. He’s quite a history buff.’
‘Buff?’
‘Enthusiast.’
‘Ah. Thank you. I might just take you up on that.’
‘Where are you staying tonight?’ asked Romney.
‘A hotel called The Ramada. Did you know that Ramada is a Spanish term meaning an open or semi-closed shelter roofed with brush or branches? So my hopes are not high. The French police service, or rather its expenses coffer, is not what it used to be. Again, I blame the accountants. They have ruined just about everything in France. Europe too. Your country did well to stay out of the Euro. It will ruin us all in the end. Mark my words.’
Romney thought the man needed cheering up. ‘Well, I don’t know how you do things in France, Frederic, but here, when we have a good result, we usually all go to the pub to celebrate. You’re welcome to join us.’
‘Ah, the English pub. Now there is an institution that we French should have also adopted when we had the chance. I should be honoured to share in your victory.’
*
Superintendent Falkner made one of his rare forays down to CID towards the end of the day. Heads went down over work-stations to give an impression of great industry as he moved among them like some pious Cardinal blessing his flock. He let himself into Romney’s office. ‘Seems that perhaps you had a wasted journey, Captain Poisson,’ he said.
‘Visiting your beautiful country is never a wasted journey, Superintendent,’ replied the Frenchman.
‘That’s the spirit. Congratulations, Tom. A quick result. That’s what area like to see. Could have been tricky and time consuming, I gather, if you hadn’t got him to confess. And we all know that time is money.’
Romney smiled and said magnanimously, ‘Thank you, sir. It was a good team effort.’
‘Did you have to beat it out of him? Or did he come quietly?’ Romney didn’t know what to say and was grateful that Falkner broke the little bubble of the sudden discomfort he felt in front of his guest. ‘Just our little joke, Captain Poisson. We only ever hurt them if it’s absolutely necessary.’ He winked at Poisson to confirm he was still being a great wit. The Frenchman bowed slightly to show his understanding and appreciation of the great British humour at play, suffering as one must the occasional idiocy of senior officers, whichever side they might be on. ‘But no film?’
‘No, sir. No film. I’m convinced they’re not lying about it.’
Falkner looked troubled before saying, ‘I dare say you’ll be thinking about the pub?’
‘Just a quick one, sir.’
‘Well, Tom, remember what I said about the spotlight? It was a good day’s work here today, but we’ve still got a murder to solve and that film to find. Make myself clear?’
‘Crystal, sir.’
And then in an unprecedented act of generosity Falkner withdrew two twenty pound notes from his wallet and said, ‘Allow me to get the first round in.’
Romney was so taken-aback that he almost forgot to say thank you.
‘Your superintendent is a very generous man, Tom,’ said Poisson, when Falkner had departed. ‘My chief could learn something from him, I think.’
‘Isn’t he just,’ said Romney, instinctively holding the money up to the light.
Poisson began to laugh. ‘You English and your sense of humour.’ But Romney had no idea what he found so funny.
***
10
Poisson set his half-empty pint glass back on the table with an obvious show of appreciation for British ale. ‘A wonderful change from gassy lager. I still can’t understand why it has never caught on on the continent,’ he lamented. ‘So, you have another murder to be investigating?’
‘Yes,’ said Romney, also enjoying his drink and his evening. ‘A Dover man this time. Stabbed to death in his bed at the local hospital while recovering from being stabbed on his doorstep.’
The Frenchman drew breath in sharply between his teeth. ‘Either he is a most unfortunate individual, or you have a determined assassin to find.’
‘Looks like the latter. Just had his first book published as well. Seems it’s a bit controversial, but it remains to be seen whether it has anything to do with his death. ’
‘Sounds interesting. What’s it about?’
‘The title is, ‘All Women Are Prostitutes’ and that’s pretty much the theme of the book as he described it. I haven’t actually read any of it yet and I
haven’t spoken to anyone who has, but I get the impression from the blurb that this was an attempt to provide some kind of explanation for the way things are between men and women.’
‘The way he, with his distorted and warped view of relationships, sees, or rather saw, the way things are between men and women,’ said Marsh. ‘I’ve read a few pages and I’ve seen something of what’s on his laptop. And if you want my opinion it’s more like the deluded ramblings of some depraved fantasist moron. It’s a poisonous cocktail of male chauvinism and misogyny and the biggest question that it poses for me is how on earth it got published.’
Poisson laughed lightly. ‘Well, with a title like that, I would imagine that your suspect list is very long and very feminine.’
‘Actually, it’s very short and very blank at the moment,’ said Romney. ‘We hope to get to grips with the investigation now this one is concluded. So, what did you find on his computer?’ he said to Marsh. ‘Anything useful?’
‘Bearing in mind what he said on the radio show recording – we recovered an audio tape of a radio interview he did a couple of days ago,’ she said to Poisson, ‘I concentrated on the files that he claimed would be available on his website.’ Again for Poisson’s benefit, she said, ‘On the radio show he boasted that anyone who cared to subscribe to his website would be able to view files of six local women he had befriended and proved,’ Marsh described inverted commas in the air with her fingers, ‘his all women are prostitutes theory with. This was supposed to be his evidence.’
Poisson raised his eyebrows. ‘And did he indeed provide such evidence?’
‘It’s a porn-site.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Romney.
Marsh let out a deep breath. ‘I’d be the first to admit that I’m not exactly qualified to comment authoritatively on the authenticity of the content, but my suspicion is that it’s a big con. He has tried to give the impression that he’s made films of having sex with women who didn’t know that they were being filmed, but I just don’t buy it.’
‘Are you saying they’re not realistic, not genuine?’ said Romney.
‘Not exactly. They looked quite realistic, I’d give him that, but I just can’t believe that he could get ordinary women off the street in Dover who are unknown to him and ignorant of what’s going on into a room and get them to have sex with him for reward.’
‘Is it because you don’t believe that women will prostitute themselves for personal gain, or that you don’t want to?’ asked Poisson.
‘I’m basing my opinion on all the women I know. And I don’t know any woman who would behave in the way the women on his website do, that’s all.’
‘What’s he offering them?’ said Romney.
‘You mean apart from a starring role in setting back the struggle of women in a man’s world? A starring role in a film he was claiming to be making.’
Romney let the laugh escape him. ‘The casting couch, eh? That old chestnut. The old ones are always the best. Did you find out where we can get hold of any of them? Did he have contact information?’
‘He has information on several women in his files, but of course he hasn’t identified any of them in his sordid little films and he’s blurred their faces, which is going to make it difficult for us to match them up. He’s really gone to town to make the viewer believe that these women’s identities must be protected, but like I say, I just don’t buy it.’
‘It sounds as though you have a fascinating investigation on your hands, Tom,’ said Poisson. ‘If you find yourself with an extra copy of his book, I should be interested to read it. But I could never allow my wife to know.’ He laughed at himself.
‘You got two, didn’t you sir?’ said Marsh, trying to carry the remark off as innocent.
Romney made a face at her. She knew why he had asked for two from the bereaved mother and it wasn’t so that either could be read, let alone given away. ‘Yes. They’re around somewhere,’ he answered, vaguely. In an attempt to deflect the Frenchman’s interest from his pristine copies of his Edy Vitriol books, Romney said, ‘You much of a book lover then, Frederic?’
‘Oh, yes. I am something of a bibliophile, I fear. Sadly, the French language cannot boast the broad wealth of literature the English language does, so I find myself reading more and more of other cultures. I am reading something by Murakami at the moment. Do you know him? A fine author.’
‘He wrote Norwegian Wood, didn’t he?’ said Marsh. ‘Grimes saw a copy of that on my desk and accused me of reading Scandinavian porn.’
The man in question was on his way back from the toilets when he heard their laughter erupt from the table. His stomach might have been in uproar, but it would take more than the squits to keep him away from the victory drink, especially when he thought that there was a good chance he wouldn’t have to put his hand in his pocket. As another wave of crippling pain rippled through his guts, he was forced to stop at, and hold onto, the newspaper table for support. As he leant against it waiting for the spasm to pass, he found himself looking down at the front page of the latest edition of the local paper. It could only have been in circulation for an hour. He laid his palm on it half expecting it to still be, if not hot off the press, then at least lukewarm.
‘What’s so funny?’ he said, when he returned to the table.
‘Nothing,’ said Romney. He saw the newspaper in Grimes’ grip. ‘Is that hygienic, do you think? Taking the pub newspaper into the toilets with you? Other people might want to read that while their eating a meal.’ Romney accompanied this comment with a look of faint disgust.
‘Actually, I picked it up on the way back, gov,’ said Grimes. He sat down and said, ‘I know where the missing film from the castle is.’
Romney looked more surprised than impressed. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve solved a crime?’
‘No. It’s in the local paper.’ Grimes set the issue in question on the table between them and Romney, Marsh and Poisson all craned forward to read the front page.
‘Animal Rights Enforcers Claim Victory in Battle at Dover Castle’.
Dover Today has learned that a local animal rights activist group were behind a daring raid this week at Dover castle that resulted in the theft of several valuable reels of film shot for the making of director Hugo Crawford’s latest cinematic offering from the lunatic fringe, ‘The Beasts of Burden’. A representative for the organisation, Animal Rights Enforcers, contacted the offices of Dover Today claiming responsibility for the action. The representative, who declined to reveal her identity, made the following statement: “The film currently in production at the castle is an affront to animals and animal lovers everywhere. Director, Hugo Crawford, is engaged in making a sick movie that is yet another shameful symbol of Mankind’s perverted perception of the rights of innocent animals with which we share the planet.
“The current suffering of the poor animals involved in the making of the film aside, this production must be stopped as it sends out signals to elements of society that this sort of predatory sexual depravity towards dumb, innocent creatures is acceptable behaviour. Isn’t it appalling enough that the ordinary lives of these poor beasts revolve around being reared in abject cruelty only to be slaughtered in their prime so that humans might gorge themselves on their flesh without also having to bear the additional traumatising ordeal of unwanted sexual attentions and physical violations of such sick-minded people? The aim of Animal Rights Enforcers is to highlight animal cruelty wherever we find it. If you hurt them, we will hurt you. If you seek to encourage others to act immorally against animals we will do everything in our power to silence you.”
Asked why the organisation had taken the decision to contact the press the representative said that they had originally hoped that the local police investigation into the theft would have brought to light the involvement of the organisation – especially as the organisation had sent confirmation of their involvement to them – however, with little evidence that the police were taking their claim seriously and th
e pressing importance of highlighting the plight of the distressed creatures currently being imprisoned and (allegedly) abused at the castle Animal Rights Enforcers felt that it was essential to act.
‘Why is he calling it, ‘The Beasts of Burden’?’ said Grimes.
‘What the hell does that matter?’ flared Romney. ‘We’re being embarrassed on the front page of the local rag and all you can think about is the title of his film. Have you seen anything from the Animal Rights Enforcers claiming responsibility for what happened?’
‘No, gov. Nothing. They’re probably just making it up to make them look good and us look bad.’
‘I sometimes wonder whether we need any help,’ said Romney, in a moment of sullen pique. A dark gloom descended on the little celebration threatening to sour their moods and their drinks.
‘Why wouldn’t the press have got in touch with us before printing?’ said Marsh. ‘Asked for a comment?’
‘Because they would probably worry that we might have interfered with the printing of their little story.’
‘Would we have?’ said Marsh.
‘Yes,’ said Romney.
‘Could we have?’ said Marsh.
Romney sighed. ‘Probably not. They can print what they like within reason, but they denied us an opportunity to comment and retrieve something of our dignity and that’s not on. First thing tomorrow,’ he said to Grimes, ‘I want you and Spicer to go and speak to whoever wrote this crap and don’t come back until you’ve found out where we can lay our hands on the representative for Animal Rights Enforcers.’
*
On his drive to work the following morning Romney briefly considered parking away from the station and escaping Falkner’s beady eye and annoying window-tapping habit by scuttling in the front entrance. But the notion was brief and discarded. The music must be faced, sooner or later. Better to do so on something of his own terms.