by Faith Martin
‘Yeah. Oh, not that anyone went out of their way to mention it, like. I mean nobody really cared a damn, not really. It just seemed that some people, for some reason, took it for granted that he was. Course, I always put them right.’
‘Perhaps people just like a stereotype,’ Hillary mused out loud. ‘You know, all interior designers have to be gay, just like all male ballet dancers have to be, or hairdressers, or what have you?’
Harris thought about this, and frowned, then shrugged. ‘Yeah, maybe that was it.’ But he didn’t sound particularly convinced.
‘And how did Felix react to the rumours?’ she asked curiously.
‘Oh, he’d just laugh, or shrug. Sometimes he’d look a bit miffed, or just long-suffering, you know, depending on his mood at the time, I suppose,’ Harris said. ‘I don’t think he liked it, really, but other than going about wearing a T-shirt with “I’m not gay” written on it, what could he do about it? Why, you think some anti-gay basher had a go at him?’ Harris asked, clearly getting angry now.
‘Oh no, sir, we have no reason to suppose anything like that happened. We just have to pursue every avenue, you understand? Tell me about Becky. You said they’d been together a few years. It sounds as if it was getting serious.’
‘Yeah, it was. Well, sort of. Well, to Becky, maybe. I’m not sure how serious Felix was taking it,’ Harris said, somewhat confusingly. ‘Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t leading her down the garden path or nothing, he wasn’t like that. But let’s just say I got the impression that Becky was a bit more keen than he was, you know what I mean?’
Hillary thought that she did. ‘They weren’t exactly planning a lavish white wedding or checking out baby furniture, but she would have liked them to have been?’
‘Something like that. I mean, he wasn’t seeing other girls or anything. Like I said, he wasn’t the type of bloke to do that sort of thing. But I don’t think he saw her as the great love of his life, either. He was happy with things the way they were.’
Hillary nodded. And wondered. Just how had Becky felt about that?
‘And his business partner, you mentioned her before. Greer Ryanson. You knew her well?’
‘Oh no,’ Harris said with a grin. ‘I mean, I met her a couple of times, at parties. Felix being partners with her and all, we were bound to meet up every now and then in a social situation, like. But, well, like you said, me and Felix were a bit of an odd couple from the start, and I sure as hell didn’t mix with the same social set as Greer and that snobby husband of hers.’
‘Right. But Felix got on with her OK?’
‘Oh yeah. They spoke the same language all right. And especially because Greer liked money and Felix always brought in his fair share of the clients. People just liked Felix, you see? He was good at what he did, and so was Greer to give her her due, or so Felix always said, and he should know. And that company of theirs was doing well.’
‘No romance there?’ Hillary pressed.
‘Oh no! I mean, Greer was a looker, I suppose, if you like that type. But she wasn’t Felix’s type. Besides, I’d have known if he was doing her, and he wasn’t,’ he added flatly.
Hillary’s lips twitched. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the man cross his arms in a ‘so there’ attitude, so emphatic did he seem.
‘You say he never had any money troubles. Did he have any other kind of worries that you know about?’ She changed course slightly.
Mitchell Harris sighed heavily. ‘You know about the car crash he had, yeah?’
‘Yes. That was tough.’
‘He had nightmares about that kid that died. Even though we all told him it wasn’t his fault.’
‘Yes, I’m sure he did,’ she agreed softly. ‘But apart from that?’ Hillary pressed on. ‘Had anything been worrying him, do you know? Had he complained about someone hassling him – a dissatisfied client maybe? Did he get odd phone calls that he wouldn’t talk about, or did he seem jumpy or nervous about anything?’
‘No, not really.’
‘You know that he’d had a lot to drink that night? We’re all assuming that that was just because the occasion called for it, but could he have been drinking because he was stressed about something?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Mitchell said flatly and frowned. ‘And that’s another thing I just don’t get. Felix never drank to excess, and I mean never. Like I said, that car crash really shook him up, what with that kid’s grandfather being so drunk and all. Well, Felix never had been what you’d call a heavy drinker even before then. He’d been a one-pint man, or maybe a glass of wine with dinner sort of guy, even before that kid died. After that … well, more often than not, he’d only drink orange juice, or one of those non-alcoholic beers.’
‘OK. Well, thank you for now, Mr Harris. We may have to come back to you with more questions later. Sometimes when you’re investigating a case, you find things out that might need clarification, or elaborating on, so we may be getting back in touch.’
‘Hey, any time you need me, just whistle,’ Mitchell Harris said earnestly. ‘It still sticks in my craw what happened to him, you know. I felt so damned helpless. I still do. So just ask, anything at all. I want to see whoever did it suffer, you know? They deserve to.’
There was an implacable hatred in Harris’s voice that sent a chill of familiarity down Jake Barnes’s back. He knew just how the man felt. He was careful to keep his face averted from Hillary Greene as he reached down into his pocket to turn off the tape recorder. The last thing he needed was for his eagle-eyed boss to notice his reaction.
‘Thank you, Mr Harris,’ Hillary said, without inflection.
Once outside, they walked back to the car in mutual silence. It wasn’t until they’d both got inside the sports car that Hillary told him he was not to record any more conversations without her say-so.
Jake listened to her lecture on the rules of PACE with careful concentration and patience, then apologized.
‘It won’t happen again,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s just that I’m not any good at taking notes the old-fashioned way. I suppose I’m used to electronics too much. Pen and paper don’t suit me.’
‘Practice,’ Hillary said flatly.
‘Yes, guv.’
‘Now, what did you make of Mr Harris?’
‘Genuine, I’d say. He and the victim seemed to be very tight. He was definitely still hurting over his friend’s murder.’
Hillary nodded. ‘Yes, I got that too. So, how do you stand on the big debate? Was our victim gay, or was he not?’
Jake shrugged. ‘Hard to call, guv. And—’ He shot a quick sideways look ‘—does it really matter?’
Hillary’s lips almost twitched. He had her down as possibly homophobic, did he, the cheeky bugger?
‘Only if we’re looking for a male lover who killed him after being spurned,’ Hillary said succinctly.
And that puts me in my place, Jake Barnes thought wryly.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘ Who else do we have who was close to the victim?’ Hillary asked, buckling up her seatbelt.
Jake reached for his iPad and quickly tapped a few keys. ‘There’s a Neill Gorman, guv. A chap he played squash with regularly. Works at the Oxford University Press.’
‘OK. We’ll try him next.’
‘Guv.’
Hillary leaned back in the plush leather seat, and for a while was content to just let the scenery speed by. She noticed a lot of people looking at them enviously as they passed, and was not surprised. What must it be like to be able to afford to buy and run a classic sports car like this one? And just what the hell was Jake Barnes doing on her team?
‘So, you never really did explain why you joined the CRT, Jake,’ she said flatly as they pulled up at a red traffic light. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen slightly, and then cut off the beginnings of a rueful smile.
‘It’s like I told Commander Donleavy, guv,’ he said with a barely repressed sigh. ‘I’ve had my share of messing
about and making money. It was fun when I was in my late teens and early twenties. But everyone grows up eventually. Even me.’
Hillary nodded. Right, that old chestnut. ‘And what made you grow up? The failed marriage?’
‘I suppose so, guv.’
Bullshit, Hillary thought. She’d gone through a failed marriage herself. And how many countless others had done likewise? It seemed to be almost compulsory in this day and age, she thought cynically. But just how many of us felt compelled to do a complete overhaul of our life and utterly change our direction because of it? OK, maybe we all did a bit of soul searching but to do something as radical as what Jake Barnes had done? No way. She just wasn’t buying it.
Was it possible that this ex-wife of his had dealt the man beside her such a serious blow that he’d been totally knocked for six, to the point where he couldn’t think straight, or began acting totally out of character? Again, she just wasn’t buying it. He was too damned good-looking, too self-confident. Too much the self-made man, the been there, done it and got the T-shirt sort who thought the world was their oyster. As it probably was. And that hadn’t been knocked out of him. He was just doing a better than average job of concealing it.
No, if this man had indeed been forced to grow up suddenly, she doubted it was Natasha who had provided the impetus.
Unless he was the sort who, when they fell, fell hard?
But Hillary would have bet her last pay cheque that he just didn’t have that broken-hearted vibe.
‘Right. So you thought you could be of use to society by helping to catch the bad guys?’ she pushed on blandly.
Jake Barnes managed to chuckle. ‘I’d like to think I’m not quite that naïve, guv,’ he said modestly. ‘But yeah, I think the police service is a good place to be. I have skills, I’m young and fit. Why not? Why did you join up, all those years ago?’ He managed to lob the ball neatly back into her court.
Hillary, however, was too wily a player to even bother hitting it back.
‘Tell me about Neill Gorman,’ she said instead, wrong-footing him yet again.
Jake blinked, but quickly rallied. ‘Er, he and Felix met at their local sports centre. From what I can gather, they both liked to keep fit but they weren’t fanatics about it. They played squash every Tuesday and Thursday night. Met occasionally in a social environment. According to Gorman’s original statement, he and Felix had dinner a couple of times with their other halves. That was about it.’
‘He wasn’t at the New Year’s Eve party?’
‘No, guv.’
‘Right. After we’ve spoken to Gorman, we’ll start with those who were actually at the party, beginning with those who knew him best.’
‘I don’t think there’ll be many of those, guv,’ Jake warned her. ‘Most of the guests were close friends of the hostess, and didn’t really know Felix all that well. Greer Ryanson and her husband and the hostess herself are probably the only ones who knew him at all.’
Hillary already knew that. She’d read and re-read practically every interview Varney had taken from the witnesses at the party. She was just checking to see if the Boy Wonder had done the same. Obviously he had. So whatever it was that had brought him into CRT’s orbit, whatever game he was playing, he was willing to work hard at it. Which was good to know. He might just turn out to be useful yet – in spite of himself.
‘Right,’ she said neutrally.
Jake shot her a quick look. ‘You OK, guv?’
‘I’m fine. But doesn’t that strike you as odd?’
‘Guv?’
‘That someone chose a party where the victim wasn’t particularly well known to kill him? Doesn’t that immediately put the onus of attention on those few that did know him?’
‘What, the Ryansons and the Querida Phelps woman? You think they were set up?’ Jake asked, startled by the idea.
Hillary gave a dry laugh and held up an admonitory hand. ‘Whoa, not so fast. Let’s not get into the realm of conspiracy theories just yet.’
Jake smiled briefly, wondering if he’d sounded a bit like Zoe. He liked the spiky-haired munchkin well enough but he didn’t appreciate being lumped into the same category as her. He needed to impress Hillary and gain her trust, not have her laughing up her sleeve at him. Time to start earning some brownie points, he thought uneasily.
‘But DI Varney wasn’t able to find any reason why the hostess might want him dead, was he? Until she hired Olligree Interiors to decorate her house, she hadn’t met either Felix or Greer. And the original team couldn’t find anyone who’d witnessed them falling out, or any reason why they might have done so. So Querida Phelps would seem to be in the clear.’
‘It was her party,’ Hillary pointed out flatly.
‘You seriously suspect her?’
‘I’m just pointing out it was her party,’ Hillary insisted. ‘So she was by far the one best placed to have done any pre-planning that might have needed doing. By all accounts, she was so happy with the job they’d done that she invited them to her swanky new millennium bash – but who’s to say that was the real reason for the invite?’
‘OK. So you’re saying she did it all to set Felix up for murder? But I don’t think even the pickiest of customers would kill her interior designer because she wasn’t happy with the wallpaper, guv,’ Jake said with a grin, hoping this was a test and that he was passing it. ‘Not unless she was well and truly cuckoo, and Varney would surely have spotted that.’
Hillary smiled. ‘True – most officers can easily spot the seriously insane. So who does that leave?’
‘Greer Ryanson, or her snobby husband,’ Jake said quickly.
‘Right. Now, tell me, if you were going to kill someone, would you do it at a party of strangers, where only you and your nearest and dearest would turn out to actually know the victim, and thus, presumably, be the only ones who might have a motive?’
Jake thought about it for a while. ‘No. It would be a bit stupid, wouldn’t it? It would be like painting an arrow on your chest, saying “I did it”. Unless it was a spur of the moment thing, guv. They literally just had to kill him then and there because something unexpected came up that was so utterly desperate that they had no other alternative.’
Hillary leaned back in the lavishly upholstered seat. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged.
‘Perhaps Felix said something to the Ryansons that put them in a panic? He’d caught them cooking the books or something and was going to turn them in? No, wait, that wouldn’t really be enough, would it?’ he instantly contradicted himself. ‘I mean, any bad publicity surrounding the company would hurt Felix as well. Sorry, I just instantly think financial – embezzlement, fraud, that sort of thing. It was more likely to be something personal, wasn’t it? Perhaps he found out something far more serious about them, and they needed to shut his mouth quickly? Her husband was into child pornography, or she was blackmailing him about something, and the worm finally turned. If he threatened to leave the party and act instantly, then they’d have no choice but to do it then and there.’
Hillary let the scenario sit for a moment or two, then said, ‘So they planned on the spur of the moment how to get him drunk, manoeuvre him into the bedroom, find a knife with which to kill him, and do so without getting any blood on their clothes?’
Jake frowned, but wasn’t about to let it go so easily. ‘Well, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility, is it? I mean, it wasn’t a particularly high-tech murder – it could have been done on the hoof, as it were. It was New Year’s Eve, 1999, so even if Felix didn’t normally drink it wouldn’t be hard to keep pressing the drinks on him under the excuse that it was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, would it? And then help him up to the bedroom – well, who else would he trust more than his business partner or her husband? And although the pathologist’s best guess is that a specially sharpened knife had been used, it isn’t certain, is it? One or the other of them could have found something suitable in the kitchen. And anyone with a bit of common sense could figure ou
t that if you piled clothes on top of the victim, it would reduce the likelihood of you getting blood on your own clothes.’
Hillary conceded it all. ‘Maybe. Have you found any evidence of something being off at Olligree yet?’
‘Not yet, guv. And if the motive wasn’t a financial one but a personal one, I’m not going to find it in the books anyway.’
‘Agreed. So start asking around the Ryansons’ circle. See if you can dig up any old scandals or any whiff of trouble roundabout 1999, 2000 or so. Something that Felix might have been able to stumble upon.’
‘Right, guv,’ Jake said, and hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Just how the hell did you start tracking down something as nebulous as that, even when it hadn’t happened nearly fifteen years ago?
Hillary, quietly aware of his dilemma, smiled gently to herself and said nothing more until they got to Oxford and were driving down Walton Street towards the University Press.
‘Traffic’s bad,’ she offered unhelpfully. They might have been in a bottle-green Jag but Hillary was curiously satisfied to note that that didn’t help them find a parking space in a city notorious for its lack of them.
The Boy Wonder finally found a not-quite-legal spot near Worcester College, leaving them with a five-minute walk to Neill Gorman’s office, which they completed in a mutual, thoughtful silence. There was something off about the whole murder-at-a-party thing that Hillary couldn’t quite put her finger on. She sighed as they dodged the usual tourist-packed pavements and the bicycle-riding undergrads that seemed to perpetually clog the famous city.
And found herself wondering just what Marcus Donleavy had wanted to talk to Steven about.
Steven Crayle returned to his office a thoughtful and ever so slightly worried man. Although his conversation with Donleavy had all been, theoretically at least, good news, there was an element to it that had that certain tension which comes with a ticking bomb.
He shrugged off his jacket, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at his desk, aware of the tight sensation of tension in his shoulders. He rolled his head on his neck in several loosening rolls, and sighed.