A Life for a Life (13 page)

This time, Tom could just make out the crunch of tyres on gravel as he drew up.
But would I have heard it if I’d just found a body and wasn’t listening for it…?

He thanked the SOC man and left. In the tree-lined street, he stopped.

A car wouldn’t have to drive far along it to be out of sight, he thought, so it was possible for Leo to have left the house, Fraser to have arrived and Leo to have then returned, without them being aware of each other – although Leo would have known someone was there as soon as he saw Fraser’s car… Wouldn’t he have then driven off again? No, because for all he knew, he’d have been heard and/or seen arriving.

The same applied if he’d been parked round the back when Fraser arrived. Whichever (if either), his only safe course would be to pretend that
he’d
only just arrived…

Witnesses? Tom looked up and down the street – most of the houses were out of sight and it wasn’t the kind of neighbourhood with a lot of pedestrian traffic, so it wasn’t altogether surprising the police hadn’t found any.

He checked Mary Templeton’s address again, found it on his A–Z and was there in ten minutes.

‘Mr Jones? Do come in,’

She was a homely woman with a comfortable figure, a blue rinse and a face with a clear resemblance to Frances’. She had the same town-and-country accent, only more pronounced.

If you want to know how your wife’ll turn out,
Tom thought, paraphrasing Oscar,
all you have to do is look at her mother…

She took him through to a rather pedestrian sitting-room and offered him tea, which he declined.

She sat down nervously on the edge of a chair, then, before Tom could say anything, said in a voice that trembled slightly, ‘Mrs Croft told me you might be able to help Fraser.’

Tom suddenly saw a woman whose daughter was gravely ill, and whose prospective son-in-law was charged with murder, and felt a flush of shame at his derogatory thoughts.

‘The operative word is
might
,’ he said gently.

‘How can I help?’ she said firmly.

‘By telling me about last weekend,’ Tom told her.

Her story tallied with the others. Frances had phoned her at about ten to make the arrangement, and Fraser had phoned at a little after eleven to ask if she had arrived. ‘I told him she was just arriving and asked if he wanted to speak to her, but he didn’t want her to think he was spying on her.’

They’d chatted, had lunch and, later, gone to the shops. When they’d got back, Frances had been too exhausted to drive and they’d tried to ring Fraser.

‘We were just beginning to get worried when he called us.’

‘Who actually answered the phone?’ Tom asked.

‘I did.’

‘This is important, Mrs Templeton,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘What exactly did he say to you? As near as you can remember.’

‘Well…’ She frowned as she thought. ‘He asked how Frances was and I told him, then he asked if she was there beside me, and when I said no, he – he told me what had happened.’

‘What had happened to Dr Flint, you mean?’

‘Yes. I was very shocked, of course, and when he said it would be better not to tell Frances, I agreed.’

‘Did he say
why
it would be better not to tell her?’

‘He didn’t have to, with Frances in such a fragile state.’

‘How did he sound – did he sound shocked himself?’

‘He sounded tired, empty. He’d been with the police for several hours,’ she added quickly.

‘
How
did he describe what had happened?’

‘I don’t understand what you mean…’

‘Did he say that Dr Flint had been murdered, or did he say that there’d been an accident?’

‘He said that she’d been killed and the police were treating it as suspicious.’

‘Did he tell you it was he who’d found the body?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘Didn’t it occur to you then that he might be in trouble?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘Did he speak to Frances?’

‘Yes, and he covered up remarkably well. She had no idea what had happened and was quite happy about spending the night here.’

Tom asked her about the next morning and she told him how Frances had come down tight-lipped and said she didn’t want any breakfast, and how when she’d tried persuading her, Frances had suddenly ‘flipped’, sweeping the breakfast things on to the floor, screaming and then collapsing in tears.

‘Has she ever shown any signs of doing anything like that before?’

‘No. Never. It must have been the drug. I’d had my doubts when Fraser first told me, but not after that, Mr Jones.’

‘You met Dr Flint, didn’t you, Mrs Templeton?’

‘Yes, and at first I thought how lucky Frances was to have someone like that to look after her…’ She broke down briefly, then recovered. ‘And I thought Fraser was wrong, both about her and the drug, but not now, Mr Jones, not now.’

‘D’you think he killed her?’

Her head came up sharply. ‘Not for one moment. I’ve come to like and respect Fraser a great deal and I don’t believe it for a moment. The police are making a terrible mistake.’ She paused fractionally, said, ‘I thought you were trying to help him, Mr Jones.’

‘I’m trying to discover the truth.’

She said, ‘If you do that, then you’ll be helping him.’

15

Tom had just picked up the phone in his hotel room to bring Marcus up to date when he remembered Dr Weisman. He glanced at his watch – five thirty, which made it twelve thirty in New York. He found the number Fraser had given him and caught Weisman on his way to lunch.

‘Gee, I’m sorry to hear that…’ was his obviously sincere reaction to the news about Fraser. He went on to confirm everything Fraser had said about Alkovin.

‘People’re beginning to notice these side-effects over here now. I guess it’s only a matter of time before they take the stuff off the market.’

‘Won’t they just recommend using prophylactic antidepressants?’

‘I think the problems with this drug go deeper than that.’

‘In what way?’

Weisman hesitated. ‘Let’s just say its initial promise as a leukaemia treatment doesn’t look so bright now,’ he said at last.

Which wasn’t good news for poor Frances, Tom thought as he broke the connection and phoned Marcus.

‘I’ve fixed up interviews with Ian Saunders and Leo Farleigh for you tomorrow and the day after,’ Marcus told him.

‘Good. They didn’t make any difficulties, then?’

‘They made plenty. They were far too busy, they’d already spoken to the police and didn’t see why they should speak to you. I had to get quite heavy with them in the end.’

Tom smiled. Marcus’ usual method of ‘getting heavy’ was to inform his victims (in the most gentle of voices) that his next call would be to the top – in this case, either to the Trust general manager, or the managing director of Parc-Reed. He hadn’t had to carry out the threat very often.

‘So what times am I seeing them?’

‘Saunders first thing tomorrow, at nine. By the way, he’s also arranging for you to talk to Terry Stroud, the lab manager.’

‘Good, I’d been wondering about him. What about Farleigh?’

‘Well, he claimed he was unavailable for the rest of the week, but then he, too, discovered a hitherto unnoticed slot in his diary – for the following morning at his house.’ He gave Tom the address.

*

Although Tom planned his interviews in advance to some extent, the tone and timing of his questions tended to follow his on-the-spot judgements of the interviewee’s character and state of mind.

Ian Saunders now… what would get behind the impermeable smiling mask he presented?

‘I believe the pressure for the trial with Alkovin came from yourself and Dr Flint?’

Ian smiled. ‘That’s correct, although I’m not sure I care for the word
pressure
.’

‘Which of you was the first to hear about the drug?’

‘Leo Farleigh put the idea to Connie at a conference, she persuaded me and we both went to John Somersby.’

‘Who promptly squashed the idea?’

Again Ian smiled, although by now it was becoming a little strained.

‘It
wasn’t
promptly, it was after about two weeks – and I fail to see the need for such – er – emotive language.’

‘Shall we say veto then? Why did Dr Somersby veto the idea?’

‘He said he’d heard rumours of side-effects. He refused, however, to divulge the source of these rumours.’

‘But you disagreed with him?’

‘Connie and I both disagreed with him.’

‘And then he was killed?’

The smile vanished. ‘What are you trying to suggest, Mr Jones?’

‘I’m not trying to suggest anything.’
Yet
… ‘I’m merely stating facts.’

‘It was at least six months afterwards that he was killed.’

‘And then you took over as acting director?’

Ian compressed his lips before replying. ‘Yes.’

‘So it would have been your decision to overturn Dr Somersby’s veto and go ahead with the trial?’

‘No, it was a joint decision. Although I was nominally acting director, Connie and I agreed to run the department between us.’

‘Were you surprised when she got the director’s job?’

Ian took a breath before replying. ‘Not entirely, no. We had similar qualifications and experience and there had been a lot of talk about there not being enough women in senior posts, so no, I wasn’t really surprised.’

‘So you’re saying she owed her position to political correctness?’

‘If you’re trying to suggest there was any animosity between us, Mr Jones, you’d be quite wrong. We ran the department together both before and after she became director.’

‘A sort of joint leadership?’

‘That’s right.’

‘So it would be fair to say that you had joint responsibility for the decisions taken thereafter?’

Ian’s mouth tightened briefly as he realised how he’d been manoeuvred into this admission. He covered it by saying, ‘I’m beginning to feel like a hostile witness at a trial – a legal one, that is. Yes, Connie did usually consult me before taking any decisions, even though she was director.’

Tom was sure by now that Ian’s strategy was to try and shuffle any blame on to Connie. He said. ‘About nine months into the trial, Dr Callan tried to draw your attention to the side-effects of the drug he’d noticed?’

‘He tried to draw
Connie’s
attention – I really must make it clear that, in the main, his dispute was with Connie.’

Tom said incredulously, ‘Are you trying to tell me you didn’t agree with her?’

‘No, I’m not telling you that. I’m telling you that there were emotive reasons for their quarrel as well as medical ones.’

‘You’ll have to explain.’

‘Will I really?’ It was Ian’s turn to be incredulous. ‘I can’t believe that you don’t know about the fling they had.’

‘Yes, I do know as it happens, from the police, who got it from you. The question is, how did you know?’

‘Connie let it slip one evening in her cups,’ He paused, then said, ‘She was drinking a lot in the last year of her life.’

‘Why was that, d’you think?’

‘I believe the strain of being in charge was more than she’d anticipated.’

‘Even though it was a joint leadership?’

‘Even so.’

‘Let’s get back to Alkovin and Dr Callan. He tried to bring to your, and Dr Flint’s, attention the side-effects he’d noticed, didn’t he?’

‘One of his patients had tried to kill himself and he took it more personally than perhaps he should. He did tend to become emotionally involved with patients.’

‘But that wasn’t the only evidence, was it?’

‘We looked at that evidence very carefully, Mr Jones. It was badly put together, much of it hearsay and some, we felt, frankly exaggerated.’

‘D’you still think that?’

Ian said carefully, ‘I think that Connie’s decision to ignore it,
based on what we knew at the time
, was the right one.’

Tom declined the offered bait. ‘But then, a few months later, after a successful suicide, Dr Callan assembled more data, including some from Birmingham, and still you wouldn’t listen. In fact, you sent him away on sabbatical to shut him up.’

Ian was smiling again. ‘You seem to be suggesting that I was personally responsible for that, Mr Jones.’

He told Tom what had happened and his account didn’t differ significantly from Fraser’s. ‘The fact is, I was beginning to have doubts about Alkovin myself by then—’

Here it comes.

‘—but Connie was furious with Fraser for going behind her back, which made her react perhaps more strongly than she should.’

‘So you’re trying to tell me
now
that you had worries about Alkovin
then
?’

‘Yes, I am,’ Ian said, ignoring the scorn in Tom’s voice. ‘As I was telling you, Fraser went first to Robert Swann, our junior consultant, and he came to me. We agreed that there were grounds for disquiet, but felt we had no choice but to tell Connie. Predictably, perhaps, she erupted. Speak to Robert, he’ll confirm what I say.’

I bet he will,
thought Tom. Which way to go…? Saunders obviously thought he’d successfully offloaded the responsibility. He said, ‘What I’m having difficulty with, Dr Saunders, is that if you were worried
then
, why didn’t you do something
then
?’

‘With Connie’s frame of mind at that time, it was frankly impossible. Now, we’re recommending prophylactic antidepressants for all our patients on Alkovin.’

‘Since when was this?’

‘Since Frances Templeton’s unhappy experience.’

‘D’you think Dr Callan killed Dr Flint?’

If Ian felt any surprise at the timing of this question, he didn’t show it.

‘It grieves me to say so, but I can see no other explanation. We know that Fraser was in a highly volatile state because of Frances’ illness and depression, and that he held Connie personally responsible for that depression – to the extent of threatening her. Then she had him suspended for assaulting her – I was there at the time—’

‘You actually saw it?’

‘I heard Connie scream and went to investigate…’ He described what he’d seen, and again, his account didn’t differ in its facts from Fraser’s, although he managed to imply a greater violence on his part. ‘So I’m afraid I’m forced to the conclusion that he did kill her.’

‘Did you know that the value of Parc-Reed shares has doubled in the last year?’

Ian went still. ‘I… believe I’d heard something to that effect. What’s the relevance?’

‘Do you own, or have you owned any Parc-Reed shares?’

‘This is becoming positively McCarthyite.’

Tom made no reply to this, and after a pause Ian went on, ‘I’m sure a glance at the public register will have already given you the answer to that question.’

‘There are ways of buying shares other than through the public register.’

‘I’ll take your word for that,’ Ian said in a still voice. ‘Am I to know the point of these questions?’

Tom said carefully, ‘Dr Callan, when he came to see us, was at a loss for an explanation of your persistent refusal to address his concerns over Alkovin,’

‘I thought I’d already made that clear to you, Mr Jones. Had it been me, I would have given his concerns more attention. But it wasn’t me, it was Dr Flint, with whom Dr Callan had an emotionally destructive relationship.’

‘And yet it was Dr Flint who phoned Dr Callan, told him that she’d changed her mind and asked him to come to her house to discuss it.’

‘I believe I’m right in saying that we have only Dr Callan’s word for that.’

‘She told him she was worried about “the others”. D’you have any idea who these “others” might be?’

Ian regarded Tom with frank loathing for a moment before replying: ‘Dr Callan has been charged with murder and I question the need to take seriously anything he may have said. I’m a busy man, Mr Jones.’ He stood up. ‘Was there anything else before I take you along to Mr Stroud?’

‘Yes,’ said Tom, not moving. ‘Where were you on Saturday morning, between say ten and twelve?’

‘As I’ve already told the police, at home with my wife.’

There was no point in going any further, so Tom smiled and said, ‘Thank you, Dr Saunders. I’ll see Mr Stroud now, if I may.’

‘I’ll take you there.’