Gregory's Game (6 page)

‘Hi Tess, this is Alec. I just saw you on the television. I … um … Give me a call when you get a minute; it'd be good to catch up.'

Would it? Naomi thought bitterly. Catch up with what exactly? She heard Alec cross the floor and go into the bedroom.

I'm losing him, she thought desperately. After all we've been through and I don't even think he understands why.

I
t was a while since he'd seen Ian Marsh and Nathan wished this was just the social nicety it was supposed to have been. He'd arranged, weeks ago, that he'd collect Ian from the station so that Kat, Ian's wife, could keep the car. The family wedding had been, for her, a wonderful opportunity for catching up with distant relatives she'd probably not seen since she was a girl, and also an opportunity to show off her own child, now just over a year old. Ian and Kat's toddler was cute and pretty, Nathan thought, but watching her grow over the past year had only served to reinforce the fact that he didn't want kids of his own. He'd be very happy to spoil those belonging to his friends, but he really didn't think he had it in him to be that unselfish. So far as he could tell, children were little leeches – albeit rather fascinating and quite appealing ones – but they sucked you dry nonetheless.

It always amazed him, observing people like Kat and Ian, who seemed to thrive on that neediness.

So, the collection from the station was all arranged; what hadn't been arranged was that Nathan was about to give his friend some really bad news. Nathan had seen the midday news bulletin and recognized the house, even festooned as it was with police tape and filmed from an awkward angle. The funny little porch on the front of 5 Church Lane and the bright pink rose, whose name had something to do with Napoleon, was unmistakable.

Knowing Ian's habit of switching everything off and ignoring the world when he went away, Nathan very much doubted his friend would know anything about the death in his old house.

Parking outside the station was never good, even on a Sunday when there were fewer trains, and Nathan had to circle, twice. He was about to make it a third when he spied Ian emerging from the bargeboard arch. Ian Marsh was bareheaded, his shock of ginger hair sticking out, as it always did, at eccentric angles. His long tweed coat flapped about his ankles. He caught sight of Nathan just as Nathan saw him and lifted a free hand to wave, almost losing the bag slung from his shoulder in the process.

Nathan found he was chuckling at the sight of his old friend. Forever untidy, seemingly chaotic, inveterately clumsy and one of the most acute brains Nathan had ever known – provided someone else told him where he should be and left detailed instructions on how to get there.

He pulled in, holding up the traffic as Ian tossed his bags on to the back seat and then scrambled into the front. ‘Train was late,' he said. ‘How the devil are you, Nate?'

‘I'm good. How's Kat and is Daisy still growing?'

‘Like a weed and it's not Daisy, it's Desiree. Kat will have your guts for garters.'

Nathan laughed. ‘When's she coming back? I thought I'd take the pair of you out for an adult dinner if you can get a sitter.'

‘That would be nice. Wednesday, all being well. Unless she decides to stay on until Great Uncle George goes back to Canada, in which case it will be Friday. But my guess is she'll be sick of them all by then. Family reunions are wonderful in theory—'

‘Says the man whose family numbers exactly three, including himself.'

‘And which takes nothing away from my point. I'm perfectly happy to borrow my wife's family for a while, but I wouldn't want to live with any of them.' Ian Marsh turned to look properly at his friend. ‘So, Nate,' he asked. ‘What's on your mind, then?'

Never could fool him, Nathan thought. The only man ever to call him by a diminutive of his chosen name and one of the very few who could ever read him; Ian was the master at that.

‘Have you seen the news at all?'

‘What sort of daft question is that? Why, what should I have seen?'

‘Church Lane,' Nathan said. ‘Your tenant, Mr Anthony Palmer. He was murdered there. The police think it happened three or four days ago.'

‘What?' Ian turned away and stared out through the front windscreen. ‘How?' he asked.

‘I have no details yet. I found out a couple of hours ago. I've got people on it, but …'

‘Nathan?'

It was only ever
Nathan
when Ian was worried, or about to deliver a lecture. Nathan responded to the unasked question. ‘I don't see how it could be anything to do with you. You've been out of the game for a while now.'

‘Can anyone ever really say that?'

‘I'll take you home, then I'll make some calls. No doubt the police will be round at some point. You want me to stay until they've been?'

Ian hesitated, and then nodded, once. ‘If you don't mind,' he said. He laughed briefly. ‘You know how the sight of a policeman makes me feel guilty.'

‘That's because you usually were,' Nathan joked, then regretted his flippancy. Ian was and always had been a man of conviction; it had led him into some very tight corners. ‘I could turn around, put you on the next train to Norfolk.'

‘Suffolk, and don't think I'm not tempted.'

‘Seriously, Ian. Give me your key; I can camp out at your place for a few days, field the questions. You know nothing about the man renting your house; it was done through the agency; you never even met him, did you?'

Ian shook his head. ‘But what if it wasn't about him?'

‘Then they'd have come for you,' Nathan said. ‘You've not lived at Church Lane in months. Why would anyone look for you there? But seriously, Ian, why would anyone come looking for you anyway? You're old news.'

His friend considered that and then nodded. Nathan made the turn into the road leading to Ian's house and swore softly. The car parked outside the house was nondescript, but the woman knocking at the door and man leaning nonchalantly against the wing were anything but.

‘Looks like it's too late to turn around,' Nathan said. ‘Get your head together and remember – you didn't know the man and you know nothing else either.'

Ian Marsh nodded and smoothed down his wild ginger hair. Nathan could almost hear the adjustment his mind was making, ready for the role he'd have to play. ‘I don't,' Ian said. ‘That much is very true.'

Tess Fuller turned as the four-by-four drew up in front of the police car and two men got out. One, the younger, paused to take a suitcase and a messenger bag off the back seat. The other stared at her, quizzically. ‘Can I help you?'

Tess came back down the path. ‘DI Fuller,' she said. ‘Are you Professor Marsh?'

‘I am, yes.' He extended a hand. ‘You're here about Mr Palmer, I expect.'

‘You've heard, then.'

Ian Marsh nodded. ‘Nathan here filled me in when he picked me up from the station. I must say, I'm shocked. What happened?'

‘Perhaps we'd be more comfortable discussing this inside,' Tess said, aware of the twitching curtains and the couple walking down the road slowing down to watch proceedings.

‘Of course,' Ian Marsh said. ‘Please, come inside.'

The house was unremarkable, Tess thought. An ordinary semi in a pretty ordinary road, unlike the house in Church Lane. Why would you choose to live in this ordinary house when you had a fantastic one available?

‘Have you lived here long, Professor?'

‘Ian, please. Is your colleague coming in too? I'll pop the kettle on. Nathan, will you stick my things in the study and show the detectives through to the sitting room?'

‘Sure.' The younger man opened one of the doors that led off the hall. Tess glimpsed a desk and bookshelves before he dropped the bags on to a chair and closed the door again. ‘This way, Inspector.'

‘Tess,' she said. She turned to Vinod who had just arrived at the front door. ‘This is Vin. DS Dattani.'

‘Nathan,' he said. ‘I'm just a friend. I picked Ian up from the station. Kat's stayed on for a few days and she's got the car. Come on through.'

He led the police officers into the other room that led directly off the hall. A bay window gave a view on to the privet hedge that shielded the house from the street. Tess sat down on the sofa facing the television and Vin took up position at the other end. The young man called Nathan dropped into one of the comfy looking chairs beside the fire place. It was an open fire, Tess noted. The room was cool. She heard the click of a boiler coming on and the tick of radiators ready to heat up.

‘So you knew about the murder,' she said.

‘I saw the news report and recognized the house. So I found out what I could before Ian came home. I knew he probably wouldn't have seen anything.'

‘Oh, and why is that?'

Nathan laughed. ‘Because Ian's idea of a break is getting away from everything. I doubt he even had his phone with him. Anyway, everyone's been busy with the wedding and catching up with relatives; I doubt they'd have paid much attention to the news or made the connection even if they had.'

‘Apart from Ian's wife. Kat is it?'

‘Kat, short for Katherine. She might.'

‘Lucky you watch the news, then.'

Nathan raised an eyebrow and Tess realized that her tone had been a little sharp. There was something about the younger man that put her on the defensive, but she couldn't have said what.

‘How long have they lived here?' Vin asked.

‘Since they left Church Lane. This was Kat's family home. She inherited after her mum died about a year ago. The plan was to put both houses on the market and buy something bigger, but the market's been dreadful, as I'm sure you know. They moved here – no mortgage – and rented out Church Lane. The plan's still on, it's just been delayed a bit.'

‘And I suppose not having a mortgage gives them a bit more to put aside,' Vinod said. He sounded rather envious.

Nathan nodded. ‘I suppose it does,' he said.

Ian came into the room at that moment, a tray in his hands loaded with mugs and sugar and a milk carton perched on the edge. ‘I know we've got a jug somewhere,' he said. ‘But I couldn't tell you where.'

He sat down in the other chair, setting the tray on a little table. ‘Please,' he said. ‘Help yourselves and then tell me what happened to Mr Palmer. I can't believe anything could happen in a place like Halsingham. Nothing happens there. Ever.'

‘Well, I'm afraid something did now,' Tess said. ‘Professor – Ian – did you ever meet your tenant?'

‘No. I wasn't all that keen on renting the house out, but it made financial sense. Kat set everything up with the agency. She saw his references and all that, but I never really got involved apart from signing the relevant paperwork.' He looked expectantly at Tess and Vinod. ‘Do you know who did it? What happened?'

‘As yet we know very little,' Vinod said.

‘Was there any conflict, between you and your wife, if you weren't keen on letting the house?' Tess asked.

Ian Marsh frowned. ‘Why would there be?' he said. ‘It's just a house; we planned on selling it anyway.'

‘But you had doubts about it?' she persisted, not sure why she was bothering. Habit, she supposed. If you saw doubt, you pushed.

‘No, I would have just rather held out for a sale, so we had cash in the bank ready to go if we found somewhere. Anyway, what does that have to do with anything?'

Tess ignored the question. ‘You've not been back to Church Lane since …'

‘Since we moved in here. April. Start of April. Mr Palmer moved in a couple of weeks later. We left the place part furnished; the agency said that was the best way.'

‘And you never thought of staying there and renting this place out?'

Ian shook his head. ‘No, never. I had no particular attachment to Church Lane, but this place was different for Kat. She just wasn't ready to do that and anyway, there was still so much stuff here. Her parents' things. Kat's mother died just before Christmas but it was a while before she could bring herself to deal with everything. I don't know, it just all worked out so it was better to come here for a while. When Janice was ill, Kat practically lived here for a while. Come to that, we all did, and Kat had started to take Desiree to the nursery down the road and to the mother and toddler group … It just seemed like an obvious solution.'

‘But you're still preparing to sell this place, despite her attachment?'

Ian frowned at her and Tess knew she was pushing too hard. Probably to no purpose too. ‘I'm letting my wife set the pace, there. And, actually, I don't think that's got anything to do with you.'

‘And you were fine with moving here?' Vinod cut in. ‘I mean, this place, no offence, but it's not a patch on Church Lane.'

‘No, it's not,' Ian said coldly. ‘But sometimes that's not what's important, is it? Sometimes it's all about what makes those you love feel better.'

Vin nodded and Tess glanced through her notebook to see if there was anything else to ask. Off hand she couldn't think of anything.

‘What will happen now?' Ian said. ‘I mean—'

‘Well, the house is still a crime scene. We'll get it released as soon as we can and then … I can recommend a specialist cleaning firm …'

‘I see,' Professor Marsh said. ‘Yes, I see.'

Tess got up and Vinod followed suit. ‘I'm really sorry,' she said. ‘This must be very difficult for you.'

‘Well, yes, but it must be so much more horrible for the poor man's family. I can't begin to imagine what they must be going through.'

Tess nodded. ‘Are you likely to be going away any time soon? I mean, in case we have to speak to you again?'

‘No.' Ian Marsh shook his head. ‘It's term time, and I'm back at work tomorrow. That's why I left the car with Kat. It seemed a shame for her to have to cut the visit short.'