Authors: Elena Forbes
‘I see.’ Fi seemed to be a little short on imagination and clearly what happened to Mary had no significance for her beyond the written page. Donovan wondered if maybe she was reading too much into things, then she reminded herself of the emails. They pointed directly towards the book and Ashleigh Grange. ‘You must have spent a lot of time with them all,’ she said.
‘Yeah. It was pretty much a free house, easy come, easy go. Sometimes the dinners and parties lasted for days.’
‘Did you have a relationship with any of them? I’m afraid I have to ask.’
‘A relationship?’ Fi laughed, rocking back in her chair at the thought. ‘That sounds so grown-up. We were really only kids. I had a bit of a snog and a grope with Tim in the first year, but that’s about it. They were all great fun but they were a real bunch of lads, especially Paul and Danny. They actually used to keep score, if you know what I mean.’ She raised her thick brows for emphasis.
‘What about the others? I mean when they were living in the house together.’
‘As I said, that was the final year. Tim had just started going out with Milly, I think, and if he played around at all, he didn’t let on. As for Joe and Alex, they just went with the flow I suppose.’
‘What happened to the house?’
‘I haven’t a clue. As soon as my finals were over, I went off home. I think Paul, and maybe a couple of the others, might have stuck around for part of the summer, but you should ask Tim. This was all at the beginning of the Nineties and things were pretty tough economically. I think Paul’s uncle ran out of money, or time – or both – and either he sold the house and estate on to someone else to develop or the bank repossessed it. It will still be there, though, in some shape or form. The house and buildings were listed so they can’t have pulled them down.’
‘Just one last question, just to make sure. You’re saying there was no accident?’
Fi looked surprised and shook her head. ‘God no. It was all harmless fun. Nobody got hurt. That was all down to Joe’s wonderful imagination. Poor sod, may he rest in peace, wherever he is.’
‘She says Logan made it up?’ Tartaglia leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.
Donovan moved aside an old mug of coffee and sat down on the corner of his desk. ‘That’s right.’
He looked at her quizzically. ‘You think she’s lying?’
‘No. I watched her carefully and there wasn’t a glimmer of hesitation. If she was lying, she’s bloody good at it.’
‘But she was good friends with all of them, right? If something happened, you’d think she’d know about it.’
‘Possibly.’
He shook his head. ‘More than possibly. At some point, someone would have said something. These sort of things have a habit of coming out. Maybe it means nothing happened. It could be as simple as that.’ He could tell she wasn’t pleased by what he said.
‘I know it all sounds far-fetched,’ she said a little irritably, ‘but going back to the book, the five of them agree to keep quiet about it. They make a pact.’
‘That was a book. As I said, in real life secrets have a habit of worming their way out over time. If nothing else, the book would have started tongues wagging and you’d think – being a good friend – she would have heard something.’
‘I know.’ Donovan sighed. ‘It doesn’t make sense, but I still think that if something did happen, she genuinely knows nothing about it. Maybe I wasn’t hard enough on her, though, in a way, does it matter if she’s lying? If it all happened the way Logan describes it, then a young girl died and she’s at the bottom of a lake near Bristol.’
Unconvinced, he folded his arms and gazed at her for a moment. In the absence of any new information on Logan’s second book, she was giving too much importance to the first one and what he saw in her eyes troubled him. The fact that she had not been herself for a while, that she seemed to have lost her usual spark, was more than just the general tiredness that affected them all through lack of sleep. He wondered what lay behind it. Sam’s instincts were often good, but it was such a wild theory, he wondered if her judgement had been dulled by whatever was affecting her. He would be shot down in flames if he went to Steele with it, with nothing to back it up. He wished now that he had made time to read the book. It was almost impossible to argue from a position of ignorance.
‘You honestly think there’s something in it, Sam? You really think a girl died and Logan wrote a book about it? Why would he do such a thing?’
‘Guilt. Something definitely happened, even if Fi Marshall knows nothing about it.’
‘You have no proof.’
She slid off the desk and folded her arms. ‘The way he described it all, it’s so incredibly vivid and real that there has to be a grain of truth. Add to that what we know about Logan’s character. He acted like a man with a secret.’
‘Or a bit of a loner, someone dysfunctional.’ Her expression tightened and he wished he hadn’t spoken so dismissively.
‘Maybe . . . I still wonder if writing the book was some sort of therapy.’
‘OK. Let’s say for the sake of argument that a girl drowned nearly eighteen years ago and the five decided to cover it up. Why wait until now to kill Joe Logan and Paul Khan?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And if her death was an accident, like in the book, why bother? And why torture Logan and Khan? Also, Logan’s book came out a while ago. I keep harping back to this, but why is it all happening
now
? What’s triggered it?’
She looked down, kicking the carpet with the toe of her shoe. ‘It sounds rather lame when you put it like that.’
He gazed at her for a moment, following the neat, pretty lines of her profile. ‘I just wish we could find that second book.’
She turned on him fiercely. ‘But where does Paul Khan’s death fit in with that? Don’t tell me he was writing another book about his university days?’
‘You have a point. I was forgetting about that. The problem is, we’re still missing such a huge chunk of the jigsaw. The fact that Logan and Khan knew each other is the only concrete thing we’ve got.’ He stood up, deciding he needed to take a quick break and go outside for some fresh air and a coffee. His head was spinning and he wasn’t thinking clearly. ‘Maybe we should talk to Tim Wade again. It can’t do any harm and we need to get to the bottom of this bloody book – if nothing else to rule it out. Take Nick with you. He knows what we went over with Wade earlier this morning. What worries me is that with two men already dead, will the killer stop there?’
24
Minderedes found a space on a yellow line outside Tim Wade’s house and he and Donovan got out of the car. It was a mixed neighbourhood, downright seedy in places, but tucked well away from the main roads, the little criss-cross of streets in the immediate area where Wade lived had come up in the world. The row of spacious, redbrick Edwardian houses, with their shiny chrome door furniture and spanking new 4x4s on off-street parking bays, stood out like gleaming teeth in a mouth riddled with decay.
After all Donovan had heard about Wade – and had read about his fictional alter ego, Peter, the fixer among the five – she was curious to meet him face to face, although she wondered just how helpful he would be. They had already decided not to mention that they had spoken to Fi Marshall, although it was possible she had called ahead to warn Wade.
With Minderedes in tow, Donovan walked up the wide, tiled path to the front door and rang the bell. Almost immediately, a fair-haired woman answered the door. She wore jeans and a flowery pink shirt and was carrying a handbag, keys and a plastic shopping bag as though she was on her way out.
Donovan held up her ID. ‘We’re—’
‘Police. Yes, I know.’ She glanced at Minderedes. ‘I suppose you want Tim again.’
‘Yes,’ Donovan replied. ‘Is he in?’
The woman nodded. ‘You’ll find him in the back garden. Close the door behind you, will you?’ She brushed past them and disappeared down the path. They went along the hall into a huge, open-plan kitchen that ran the width of the house, with a large conservatory-style extension. In a far corner of the garden beyond, three men were gathered around a table in the shade of a tall tree. Their voices carried across the lawn and they appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion.
‘Which one’s Wade?’ she asked Minderedes, as they stepped through the open French doors.
‘The big chap on the left.’ As he spoke, Wade looked around, stopped in mid-sentence and stood up. The other two men also turned their heads.
‘Holy shit,’ Minderedes muttered. ‘Looks like Christmas has come early. That’s Alex Fleming.’
‘Which one?’
‘On the right.’
‘You’d better go and get him, then.’
She followed behind as Minderedes strode towards Fleming, who slowly got to his feet. He looked paralysed, like a rabbit caught in the headlights, although probably more with surprise than fear, his mouth slightly open, arms hanging limp at his sides. The garden walls weren’t that high but she hoped he wouldn’t be silly enough to try and run away. She felt in no mood for a chase.
‘Alex Fleming, I need you to come with us now,’ Minderedes said. ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence—’
‘Hang on,’ Wade said, marching over to Minderedes and towering above him. ‘Keep your voice down. Why are you cautioning him?’
‘But it may harm your defence if you do not mention . . .’
Minderedes continued as though he hadn’t heard, still looking at Fleming.
‘I said, enough,’ Wade shouted.
Donovan held up her hand. ‘We’ll come to you in a minute, Mr Wade. As you well know, we’ve been looking for Mr Fleming. He’s a possible suspect in a murder investigation and—’
‘Alex is no suspect.’
‘—and, as I’m sure you know, harbouring a suspect is a serious offence.’
‘I’m not harbouring anyone. Alex has only just arrived. Tell them, Alex . . .’ He looked at Fleming, who sighed and shook his head.
‘It’s not going to wash, Tim. And it’s time I spoke to them. I should have done it a lot sooner.’
‘Yes, Mr Wade. Now, I suggest you keep quiet until DC Minderedes has finished.’
‘. . . if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
‘I understand all of that,’ Fleming said, spreading his hands and looking from Minderedes to Donovan. ‘You really don’t need to bother. I’m happy to go with you.’
‘I’m coming too,’ Wade said, taking hold of Fleming’s arm. ‘You don’t have to answer any questions.’
‘Thank you, Mr Wade. We’ll need to speak to you too.’
‘What about?’
‘About what really went on at Ashleigh Grange.’
Wade folded his arms and compressed his lips into a hard line. She turned to the man in dark glasses and tight black jeans, who was still sitting in the shade, picking his teeth as though the rest of them weren’t there. ‘Are you Danny Black, by any chance?’ The man seemed to consider the matter, then nodded slowly. ‘Right. You’d better come too. Ring for backup, will you Nick? We’re going to need two more cars.’
Several hours later, Tartaglia sat in an empty interview room in Kensington Police Station. Alex Fleming’s signed statement lay on the table in front of him and it was dynamite. He had been trying to get hold of Carolyn Steele, but she was at a work conference somewhere out of London with her phone switched off. Fleming was cooling his heels in another interview room down the hall, while Donovan and Minderedes were finishing off with Tim Wade and Daniel Black. Drumming his fingers on the table, he glanced down at the statement again, although it was familiar by now:
STATEMENT GIVEN BY
ALEXANDER CHRISTOPHER FLEMING
– KENSINGTON POLICE STATION,
July 17th, 2010
. . . We’d all just finished our finals and were letting off steam. Some people were staying at the house, kipping on the floor, and more people started arriving during the day. I don’t know who they all were. Some were friends, some were friends of friends, plus there were some new-age types from the next-door farm who used to hang out with us. By evening there was quite a crowd and we decided to go over to the main house and set up the music there. We’d been drinking all day and I must have been pretty pissed. We’d also had a few joints and stuff. I remember dancing outside on the lawn with some girl. She was a first year who Paul had invited, but I don’t know her name. It stays light until late at that time of year and there was this chapel. It’s on an island in the lake, about ten feet off shore. You get to it via a little bridge. Someone, I think it might have been Danny, suggested going down into the crypt for a laugh. It was quite a spooky place with old coffins and stuff. We got candles from the house and a group of us went into the church and down into the crypt. Some of the girls got a bit scared and I went back to the house with them. When I saw the email someone had sent Joe I knew that’s what they were talking about. Whoever sent it must have been there but I have no idea who it was. There were quite a few people in there at one point. The girl I was dancing with had gone off somewhere. I saw her later with Paul. I remember feeling a bit miffed about it. But there were lots of other people around. I have no idea what time this all was. I wasn’t keeping track. But I remember hearing the clock at the stables strike midnight at one point. Later on, maybe an hour or so later, someone said they were going for a swim. Next thing, a whole load of us took off for the lake. It was pitch dark, but the moon was full and we could see quite easily. We took off our clothes and dived in. I can still remember it. There were screams and shouts – a lot of noise. The water wasn’t that cold once you were in. We were all larking around, playing tag and stuff. Some people swam off to the pontoon in the middle and started diving off it. Suddenly the girl was there again. She swam up to me and prodded me. When I tried to catch her, she slipped away. She was a better swimmer than I was and she was laughing at me, teasing me, being really provocative. I thought I was in with a chance again. Then she disappeared under the water. I don’t know where she went but she must have been holding her breath for a long time. Even in the moonlight, it was difficult to see. I thought I heard her call. I knew she was hiding somewhere and I swam towards the shore to look for her. I thought maybe if I hid, I could watch for her and surprise her. I swam under the branches of some trees and stopped, hoping I’d see her. It was very dark and quite shallow and I crouched down. I could hear splashing and voices coming from the far side of the lake. I waited for a bit, but I didn’t see the girl. My head was spinning. I suppose I was pretty high and I needed to sit down somewhere. I started towards the bank. Then I fell over her. I couldn’t really see much but I knew right away it was a person, a girl. She was naked, lying half in, half out of the water mixed up in some reeds. I thought it was a joke. I thought it was the other girl messing around. I grabbed her and tried tickling her, but she didn’t move. She just lay there. I thought maybe she’d passed out, had too much to drink, or something, so I scooped her up in my arms and carried her up the bank. I laid her down on the grass. I must have been very stoned. I felt really giddy suddenly and I remember puking up. Then I went to sleep for a bit. When I woke, she was still there. She wasn’t moving. I thought maybe something was wrong so I tried to shake her but she was out cold. I called out but everyone had swum over to the other side of the lake. Either they didn’t hear me shouting over the music, or they didn’t want to. I remember standing there wondering what the fuck to do. They were playing ‘Suicide Blonde’ just at that moment, which was rather ironic. I ran to where I’d left my clothes and got dressed. I was going to go back to the house and get help, when Tim appeared from somewhere or other. He’d fallen into the lake with his clothes on and was soaked. I tried telling him what had happened, but he just stood there, swaying, dripping on the grass, not really taking it in. He kept going on and on about feeling sick and wanting to get out of his clothes. He wasn’t making much sense. When I finally did get through to him, he told me she’d be fine, that she’d probably had too much of something or other and passed out. He said she just needed to sleep it off. He then told me to go home and we’d see how she was in the morning. I didn’t know what else to do and I was so tired. I suppose I wanted to believe what he said. So I walked back with him to the stables and we both went to bed. I don’t know where the others were, if they were in their rooms or still up at the house. It was just getting light when Tim came and woke me up. He had sobered up and he had Paul and Danny with him. They couldn’t wake Joe, for some reason. I told them what had happened, as far as I could remember it. I don’t think they believed me. They said they wanted to see for themselves, so we went down to the lake. Problem was, I’d forgotten where I’d left her. While we were looking around, I started to think I’d dreamt it all. I hoped she’d just passed out, maybe needed to sleep it off, and that she’d eventually got up and gone home. But after a bit we found her. She was lying on the grass under the trees, hidden behind some bushes. I was sure I’d left her closer to the lake. I wondered if somebody had found her and tried to move her. Or maybe she’d woken up and moved herself. It was then that it hit me that she was dead. I also realised that she wasn’t the other girl. It was a real shock. I’d never seen anyone dead before. Someone, Paul, I think, said that he thought he’d seen her earlier with some bloke and that they were heading towards the boathouse. Danny said he thought he remembered her too, so it looked as though she had been at the party. We decided to take a look in the boathouse, although I’m not sure what we expected to find. When we got there, we saw her bag on the floor, along with some clothes and shoes. She’d obviously left them there to go swimming. It was pathetic seeing them gathered in a little pile, knowing that she wasn’t coming back for them. It brought it all home and I was sick again. Then I had one of my nosebleeds. I remember Tim told me to stop being so wet and get a grip. Someone went and got Joe and told him what had happened and he came down to the boathouse. Then Paul went off and found some rubbish bags and tape. I remember the bags were heavy-duty things, with the council’s name stamped in white on the front. It’s funny how you remember little details like that. I also remember thinking how surreal it was to be putting a girl in a bin bag. We wrapped her up, put her things in another one and used a few broken bits of stone from the graveyard to weigh her down. We were really worried someone would see us but everyone was still out for the count. We got one of the boats and Joe and Tim lifted her in and rowed her out into the middle somewhere. She must still be there, I guess. After we left, I never went back. I have no idea who she is or how she got in the water. I know what we did was stupid. It was wrong . . .
Tartaglia put Fleming’s statement down on the table in front of him and stared out of the grimy little window for a moment. He checked his phone again, but there was still no message from Steele. There had been no need to exert any kind of pressure on Fleming. He seemed only too happy to unburden himself, and once he had started, his account of what had happened gushed out freely like water from a broken standpipe. Although it had the ring of truth, he was sure something was missing. In his mind, he again ran through certain parts of what had been said.
‘Why didn’t you tell somebody at the time?’ he had asked.
He had been standing at that point, as much to stretch his legs as to physically dominate Fleming, although there had been no need. Leaning his weight full on the back of a chair, he had looked Fleming in the eye.
Fleming didn’t flinch. Flopped in his chair, with his short red hair standing in worried spikes, he looked physically drained, as though he were on his last legs. ‘I told you. We thought we’d get into serious trouble. It was the last thing any of us needed. We all thought she’d either drowned or OD’d, or something. The last thing we wanted was police crawling all over the place. Anyway, there was nothing we could do for her.’