False Money (23 page)

A more genuine laugh. ‘I've heard something about that. Dick or Chris, or something? A brilliant young film director, is that right? Tomi used to go on about him. She liked him, said he was kindness itself, but eccentric. He sounds quite mad to me. He's not like any of Hermia's usual boyfriends. But, well, why not?'

‘Why not, indeed? How about Jamie Fairley?'

An indulgent, slightly contemptuous smile. ‘He's perfectly all right, but he'd have been more at home in the Middle Ages, if you see what I mean. Charging around in a full suit of armour, killing anyone who disagreed with him, and then apologizing for having knocked them off their horse. Not that I think . . . Sorry, I didn't mean that he'd have killed Tomi or Harry, and certainly not Nick. They played golf together a lot, you know. What I mean is—'

‘I think I understand what you meant. He wouldn't have bothered to use sleeping pills to render his victims unconscious, but would have bashed them over the head with a blunt instrument straight away?'

‘And then apologized.'

Bea laughed. ‘All right. I get the picture. On the other hand, I'm not sure he's as clueless as he tries to make out, because he does seem to have his finances well under control.'

‘He's hit on a job that he's perfectly fitted for. He's charming and exactly what businessmen think that a member of the aristocracy should be. I can quite see why Hermia couldn't bring herself to marry him, though. I hear he's got a new girl in tow.'

‘What do you think of her?'

A frown. ‘I may be prejudiced, but I wouldn't trust my partner alone in a room with her.'

‘A predator?'

A shrug. ‘She's pretty enough and seems very capable. Secondary modern education, then vocational training. Not university, though I'm not sure that matters nowadays. I expect we'll all get along fine, once we get used to one another.'

‘And the last on the list; Gregor?'

A sigh. ‘I like Gregor. He's fun. He wouldn't do any of
us
down, but I wouldn't trust him with a country cousin who had money to invest. If you see what I mean.'

‘Gregor is the only one who has refused to see me. Do you think you could persuade him otherwise?'

‘What would you hope to achieve by talking to him?' Claudine looked at the clock again and checked her watch. ‘I'll have to throw you out, I'm afraid. I haven't finished packing yet.'

‘I'll give you a lift to the station, if it will help.'

‘Yes, it would. I was going to get a taxi. Can you hold on five minutes?' She disappeared into the back of the flat.

Bea went to the window and looked out. Yes, there was her car, with Oliver leaning against it, looking up to where she was standing. She waved to him, gestured five, and five again, with outspread fingers. He nodded. Fortunately there was no sign of a traffic warden.

Left alone, Bea prowled round the room. There was a drop-front bureau beside the fireplace. She eased the front open. Everything was neat and tidy. The bookcases showed a wide range of subject matter: evidence of an enquiring, intelligent mind. No romances.

On the mantelpiece there were silver frames displaying photographs of older people; professorial types? Upper middle-class? No photos of anyone Claudine's age. There was a scuffed leather briefcase on the floor by one of the easy chairs, together with a tottering pile of paperwork. Bea peeked; exam papers or children's homework. For him or her? Ah, something was marked ‘Mr Snaith' or perhaps the word was ‘Smith?' So the partner was probably another teacher. And if he was another teacher, might not Claudine have discussed her plan to buy an independent school with him?

Claudine reappeared, wearing a navy car coat and towing a small suitcase on wheels. Bea led the way to the car, and Oliver drove them to St Pancras station, where Claudine waved them goodbye, saying she'd try to contact Gregor by phone en route to see if he'd change his mind about meeting Bea. Then she was gone, and Oliver drove them home.

Bea said, ‘I've got sensory overload.'

‘TMI? Too much information?'

‘I think we must get together with CJ and exchange notes. Try to work out what's important and what's not. Air our suspicions. See if they have any basis in fact. We don't need Chris or Hermia. They wouldn't be able to help at this stage.'

He nodded, but didn't comment. The rain had started again. Persistently, drenching everything.

Bea said, ‘Do you think spring will ever come?'

Which suited Claire. With the odd interjected query here and there, Claire was getting all the information she needed about the interfering Mrs Abbot, who ran an agency – not for nurses, as it happened – and had adopted two totally unsuitable people, who were probably hoping to cut Mr out of her will. The boy was very clever, no doubt, but of mixed race. ‘Not that I'm racist, dear . . .
'

FOURTEEN

C
J was free and arrived at the house just as Maggie was leaving for the evening. A date with a girlfriend, or with Zander? Maggie wasn't saying.

CJ was not in the habit of conducting affairs at kitchen tables. He handed Bea a bottle of something which looked expensive and turned into the sitting room.

Bea shut the door on the night. Another filthy night. It matched her mood.

CJ directed Oliver to draw the big dining table – so little used nowadays – further into the room, and seated himself in the carver's chair at the head. Oliver laid out his laptop and a batch of papers at one side, leaving Bea to uncork and serve the wine CJ had brought, before taking her place at the foot of the table.

Bea laid out the pads on which she'd been making notes; it seemed she'd used two, which was wasteful of resources, but she'd obviously picked up the wrong one at some point. She lifted her glass in a toast and called the meeting to order. ‘We've all been working in different directions, and it's about time we tried to make sense of what we've got. CJ; can you tell us what's been happening with the police?'

‘Nothing much. They've accepted the idea that Tomi was killed by Harry, who then killed himself, and that Nick got drunk and fell over the banisters. The Crown Prosecution Service is saying there's no evidence that anyone else is involved, so the police have dropped their investigation. Of course, they don't know about the money angle yet.'

Bea said, ‘I don't understand what makes Gregor tick. Isn't he concerned about his old friends dropping dead?'

‘I don't understand him, either. He says it won't hurt to wait till Tuesday before letting the police in on the secret. Duncan has been trying to get him to change his mind, without success. He has interests in half a dozen countries, and I suspect he's arguing with accountants somewhere – perhaps in Greece – about the amount he owes in tax and wants that affair concluded before his assets are considerably increased on Monday.'

Bea protested. ‘That's not fair.'

‘Duncan says that Gregor doesn't play by the same rules as the rest of us. Gregor acknowledges there is a problem if one of them is killing off the others, but he says they've only got to take some elementary precautions to keep themselves alive till Monday, when they collect what's due to them. He seems to enjoy walking tightropes without a safety net.'

Bea said, ‘Precautions. Like advising Claudine to go off to Brussels for the weekend?'

‘Sensible of her. The police confirm that the calls made from Tomi's mobile, saying she was going abroad for a few days, and later on the one from Harry's mobile telling the police where her body could be found, were all made from the Notting Hill area. Likewise the one from Tomi's phone asking Chris to collect her. Harry could indeed have made them.'

Oliver checked his data. ‘They all live within a couple of miles of one another. Surely the police can get a better fix on them than that?'

‘If they had reason to be interested, yes. At the moment, no.'

Bea nodded. ‘All right. We understand the problem faced by the police, although frankly, confronted by three corpses which were all filled with barbiturates before death, you or I would want to shout “foul play”. Oliver, you've got the results of the enquiries which Maggie and Zander have been making. Can we trace the drugs from them? In particular, the heroin which was used to help kill Tomi?'

Oliver shuffled paperwork. ‘Maggie and Zander have added more information as it came in and cross-checked everywhere. The results are inconclusive. They've isolated the names of three people who have been reported as dealing in drugs. These three have been at parties attended by Tomi, Harry and Nick. It doesn't mean the others don't have access to drugs; just that we don't have an obvious connection. Anyway, if the others wanted to, I'm sure they could get drugs almost anywhere.'

CJ responded, ‘Agreed. The three names are going to the Drugs Squad, but without any evidence to link them to the deaths, we're no further forward. I checked on the reported deaths of the soldier Julian and the drunken driver Shirley and found nothing untoward. Two bodies, correctly identified, both cremated.'

‘Dead end,' sighed Bea. ‘Oliver, do you have anything to add from your studies of the contents of Tomi's laptop?'

‘Not really. I'll have another session on it soon.'

‘Moving on,' said Bea, getting into Chair mode. ‘We've all three been talking to the surviving members of the group, except for Gregor. We've been bombarded with information, with hints and suspicions and declarations of innocence, and some of it is contradictory. A couple of times I've jumped to conclusions about this person or that and been forced to rethink. I've kept some notes of statements offered as fact, but haven't had a chance to weigh one against the other. If you've got the stomach for it, I'd like to run through what we've heard from the beginning.'

She started with Chris's plea to help him find Tomi, and finished up with a sore throat nearly an hour later.

‘And that's it, so far. I don't know how you envisage the murderer, but it seems to me that he or she must have access to drugs – both heroin and sleeping pills – in considerable quantities, and can get close to the victims without rousing suspicion, which would indicate they move in the same social circles. The use of barbiturates to render the victims unconscious before they are killed seems to indicate that there is, perhaps, a physical in-balance; perhaps the murderer is smaller, or shorter or weaker in some way? Next, they have transport, or they wouldn't have been able to leave Tomi's body out at Fulmer. That's as far as I've got. As to the people we've interviewed, some of them I liked, some I trust. Not one of them seems to me to match my profile of the murderer. Any ideas?'

Silence. ‘Coffee,' said Oliver. ‘Black.'

CJ lifted his empty glass. ‘I'll join you.'

Neither of them made any move to make coffee for themselves, so Bea went out to the kitchen to brew up. Her mind was buzzing with half-digested theories. She took two cups of fierce black coffee back to the men, who accepted them with a bare nod of thanks.

CJ performed five-finger exercises on the table. ‘Bea, how about your impressions of them as people? Why do you trust some and not others?'

Bea shook her head. ‘I don't think any of them told us the whole truth. I got the impression that they've all known one another for so long that they automatically put up barriers against outsiders.