Never Go Back (12 page)

Kylie Sinclair told Harry before he left the police station that she was confident of securing Chipchase’s release on the same terms as his. ‘Assuming,’ she added, with a narrowing of her gaze, ‘he tells the same story.’

‘It’s the only story either of us can tell, Miss Sinclair. It’s the truth.’

‘Good. Let me know where you’ll be staying, won’t you? And make an appointment for you both to come in and see me. As soon as possible. We need to talk about next week.’

‘OK. How long before they let Barry go, do you reckon?’

‘If the questioning proceeds much as yours did… an hour or so.’

‘Can you tell him I’ll wait for him in the Prince of Wales?’

She smiled. ‘Feeling in need of a drink, Mr Barnett?’

‘Yes. And if I know Barry…’

‘He will be too.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll tell him.’

—«»—«»—«»—

Sergeant McBride also expressed an interest in Harry’s future whereabouts when he saw him on his way.

‘We’ll need to have an address for you by the end of the day, sir.’

‘You’ll know as soon as I know.’

‘Fine. But you do appreciate you can’t return to Sweet Gale Lodge, don’t you? It’s sealed off as a crime scene and it’ll stay that way for quite a while.’

‘What about my belongings?’

‘We let Mrs McMullen pack a few things for you. They’ll be with her. Bar what we retained as evidence, of course.’

‘Such as?’

‘A disposable camera found in your room. I’ll give you a receipt for it.’

‘Half a dozen snaps of the gathering at Kilveen Castle. You call that evidence?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Of what, exactly?’

‘Ah well…’ McBride smiled. ‘That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?’

—«»—«»—«»—

A cold, grey morning greeted Harry on his exit from the station. Tired, hungry and unshaven, his thoughts manoeuvring ineffectually around the many problems he was beset by, he focused as best he could on the one thing he had to do without delay. He bought a high-value phone card at the first newsagent’s he came to and rang Donna from the nearest call-box.

—«»—«»—«»—

It was the middle of the night in Vancouver, but Harry knew Donna would be worried by the lack of a call the previous evening. She answered with the speed of someone who had not been sleeping soundly and was certain who the caller would be. Initially, she was simply relieved to hear his voice. But her relief did not last long.

‘Johnny Dangerfield’s dead?’

‘The police are treating it as murder.’

‘My God, Harry, this is serious. There really is a murderer on the loose?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘I want you on the next plane home.’

‘I want that too. But the police have other ideas. They’ve confiscated my passport.’

‘What?’

‘There’s nothing I can do, Donna. I have to stay here until they’ve ruled out Barry and me as suspects.’

‘Suspects? They can’t be serious.’

‘I only wish they weren’t.’

‘Right. If you can’t come to me, I’ll come to you. There’s nothing else for it.’

‘Don’t do that. Please. It’d put you in hot water at the University and—’

‘You think I value my job above your welfare?’

‘Of course not. But it’s unnecessary. They will rule us out. It’s just a question of time.’

‘How much time?’

‘A week or so.’

‘During which I’ll be worried sick about you and unable to do a single damn thing to help.’

‘You couldn’t do anything even if you were here, Donna.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘It is. Because if you came I’d be worried about you. And Daisy would be worried about both of us. Whereas this way she needn’t know there’s any cause for concern. Not that there is, of course. Not really.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Listen. I can’t leave the country. But I don’t have to stay in Aberdeen. I’ll go back to Swindon. Probably tomorrow. Clear the house out, as planned. I’ll take Barry with me. We can watch out for each other. Next week, we’ll come back up here and sort everything out.’

‘You hope.’

‘The solicitor’s adamant they’ll… eliminate us from their enquiries.’

‘You’ve hired a solicitor?’

‘Reckoned I needed to.’

‘And what about Barry? He’s not exactly a trustworthy guy, hon, is he? Are you sure he’s… on the level?’

‘He’s never been “on the level” in his life. But he’s as much in the dark about all this as I am. Until next week we’re going to have to stick together. It’s the only way.’

—«»—«»—«»—

The only way amounted to rather more than Harry was letting on. He had no intention of passing his week on police bail clearing out his mother’s house, with or without Chipchase’s assistance. But what he meant to do instead was not for Donna’s ears.

—«»—«»—«»—

He phoned Shona next, intending to ask if he could come and pick up his bag before booking into a hotel. But she had other ideas.

‘You can stay here, Harry. Then you and Barry can tell me what in God’s name is going on. Who’d want to kill Mr Dangerfield? He was such a kind and gentle man. How did you work out Barry was staying with me? And what are the two of you going to do now?’

She had, it soon became apparent, many more questions than Harry had answers. He accepted her invitation and said he and Chipchase would see her later.

—«»—«»—«»—

Several brief calls followed: to the police, leaving a message for McBride to the effect that he could be found at the McMullen house, at least for a day or so; to Legg, Stevenson, MacLean, making an appointment with Kylie Sinclair for five o’clock that afternoon; and to the hospital, confirming that, as expected, Wiseman had been discharged.

Anxious to assure Wiseman of his and Chipchase’s innocence, Harry then tried the mobile number listed for him in Dangerfield’s letter about the reunion. But he was soon to regret doing so.

‘Hello?’

‘Magister, this is Harry… Ossie. I—’

‘What do you mean by phoning me? Are you no longer in custody?’

‘No. But listen. Barry and—’

‘They’ve told me Danger was murdered. And that you and Fission are under suspicion. For that and sabotaging my car. I’ve no idea what the hell’s going on or—’

‘Neither have we.’

‘Or what you’ve been up to. But in the circumstances I’m amazed — horrified — that you should try to harass me in this way.’

‘I’m not harassing you. I’m just—’

‘Phone me again and I’ll report it to the police.’ Wiseman ended the call there and then. And Harry did not redial.

Instead, he made one further call with what little credit remained on his card: to Erica Rawson. But she was not answering. He could do no more than record a message.

‘You said I should get in touch if I needed help. Well, I do. Badly. I expect you’ve heard about Johnny Dangerfield. There’s something I’m hoping you can tell me. It’s important. Could we meet up? Soon? I’ll call again later. ‘Bye.’

That done, he headed for the Prince of Wales.

Harry did not have to wait long for Chipchase to join him. He was making inroads into a second pint of Bass when a familiar and disgruntled figure hove into view through the pub’s prevailing murk.

‘Those bastards,’ was all Chipchase managed to say before he made a start on a pint of his own, accompanied by a whisky chaser. Then he grew more eloquent. ‘Those sadistic bloody bastards.’

‘Did they take your passport?’

‘No. But only because I didn’t have it on me. I’ve got to deliver it to Smiley Kylie for onward transmission by the end of the day.’

‘That’s handy. I’ve made an appointment for us to see her at five o’clock.’

‘For words of good cheer and encouragement, I sincerely bloody hope.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Yeah. So do I. We’re up the creek without a paddle, Harry old cock. You know that, don’t you? They want my passport to stop me dashing off to Zurich and cleaning out that numbered bank account where they’ve convinced themselves I stashed the Chipchase Sheltered Holdings missing millions. And they want to pin these murders on us by any means it takes, fair or bloody foul.’

‘They’ve certainly convinced Magister we’re guilty. I phoned him. He threatened to have me arrested just for doing that.’

‘Paranoid prat.’

‘At least Shona’s standing by us. She’s invited me to stay at her house for the duration.’

‘The woman has a heart of gold. I’ve always said it. But is that what the next week holds, Harry? You and me bunked up at Shona’s waiting to see if Plod fits us up before the barking bloody madman who’s really doing this decides to pay us a call?’

‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’

‘No. Neither would I. So, what are we going to do?’

‘I’ve told Donna we’ll head for Swindon.’

‘Swindon? That’s all I need. A stroll down bad memory lane.’

‘It’s safer than waiting here.’

‘Maybe. But—’

‘Anyway, waiting isn’t exactly what I had in mind.’

‘Got a get-out-of-gaol card tucked up your sleeve, Harry? If you have, let me tell you: it’s time to play it.’

‘Somebody’s killed three men, Barry. Three friends of ours. Who did it? And why?’

‘Haven’t a bloody clue.’

‘Do you want to let them get away with it?’

‘Of course I don’t. Danger was a good bloke. And I wouldn’t have wished ill on the other two either. But just at the minute I’m more concerned with getting you and especially me out of the frame rather than putting someone else in it.’

‘Same difference.’

‘Come again?’

‘You said you hadn’t a clue. Well, I’ve got one. Several, in fact. Since the police don’t seem to want to follow them up, I—’

‘Hold up. I’m not playing Dr Watson to your Sherlock bleeding Holmes.’

‘I’m just talking about asking a few questions, Barry. That’s all.’

‘Yeah. And that’s all it’d take for friend Ferguson to pull us in for obstructing his enquiries. One night in the cells is more than enough for me.’

‘He’s not making any enquiries. Not in the right place, anyway.’

Chipchase frowned sceptically. ‘Going to tell me where the right place is, are you?’

‘What sparked off the killings? The reunion, yes?’

‘Well, I…’

‘The notice about your nursing homes fraud was planted on Askew to—’

‘Fraud my left buttock,’ Chipchase barked. ‘How many times do I have to explain to you that—’

‘All right, all right.’ Harry raised a placatory hand. ‘Your sadly unsuccessful business venture. Call it what you like. I don’t mind. The point is that the subject was dragged in to deflect the police’s attention from where it should have been focused: on Kilveen Castle fifty years ago.’

‘What?’

‘Something happened there that you and I missed. Something linking the dead men and some of the others. Something they were — and are — keeping secret.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because nothing else makes sense. Danger organized the reunion. Now he’s dead. So, it’s too late to ask him why he really organized it. Even supposing he’d have told us. Which I don’t. Not for a moment.’

‘I thought it was for old times’ sake.’

‘Think again. There was a hidden agenda from the start, Barry. Askew as good as told me that at Waverley station. I just wasn’t listening. Lloyd started behaving oddly as well. Then Stronach—’

‘Stronach? Are you telling me the old buzzard’s still alive?’

‘And kicking. He called the reunion “risky”. As if we were tempting providence by getting back together. As if…’ Harry paused for a reflective slurp of beer. ‘I don’t know. But we’ve got to find out what it was really all about.’

‘How are we going to do that?’

‘Like I said: ask questions. And see what answers we get.’

‘Starting with who?’

‘Erica Rawson. She’s as close to a neutral observer as we’re going to find. I phoned her earlier and left a message.’

‘You’re talking about Starkie’s research assistant?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, any excuse for a chat with a sexy girl, I suppose. Bit of a looker, as I recall.’

‘As you recall?’ Several seconds passed before the discrepancy assembled itself in Harry’s mind. ‘When did you meet Erica Rawson?’

‘I didn’t exactly meet her. She was driving out of Sweet Gale Lodge when I got back there… Thursday afternoon. Yeah, that’s right. Danger told me who she was. He’d already mentioned she was going to be at the reunion. Missing out on a closer encounter with her was the only thing I regretted, to be honest.’ A nervous grin suddenly crossed Chipchase’s face. ‘Well, that and a chinwag with you, of course.’

‘Of course. Did Danger say why she’d called round?’

‘No. I assumed… to confirm she and Starkie were going to turn up. I don’t know. I didn’t really think much about it. I was too busy putting together my cover story for doing a runner come Friday.’

Chipchase’s explanation for Erica’s visit to Sweet Gale Lodge was by far the likeliest. Somehow, though, Harry was unconvinced. And troubled. Maybe she was not so neutral after all. ‘Is there a payphone here?’

‘Think so. Yeah. At the far end of the bar.’

‘Wait here. I’m going to give her another call.’

—«»—«»—«»—

It was a vain effort. There was, once again, no answer. This time, Harry did not bother to leave a message. He did not want her to think he was badgering her. If he had brought his mobile with him — and charged it — he could have left a number for her to call him back on. But he had not. It seemed there truly was a price to pay for resisting the intrusions of technology.

—«»—«»—«»—

Chipchase had lit a cigar in Harry’s absence. He had grabbed a discarded newspaper from a nearby table and was studying the racing page between puffs.

‘You’re back soon. No joy?’

‘She’s probably busy.’

‘Or giving you the brush-off. If you’d had the benefit of my salutary experiences in life, Harry old cock, you’d know people go right off the idea of answering the phone to you once you’ve got into a spot of bother.’

‘She suggested I call her if I was in trouble,’ said Harry stiffly.

‘Just busy, then.’ Chipchase’s expression implied he suspected otherwise. ‘Like you say.’

A minute or so of silence followed, while Chipchase continued to scan the odds. Then he sighed heavily.

‘It’s tragic, really. Even if I won a fortune on a five-hundred-to-one outsider in the three thirty at Kempton Park, I couldn’t jet off to the French Riviera to spend the money and forget my troubles, could I? No bloody passport. At any price. Nope. I’d still be stuck here, bulging wallet or no. Or maybe in Swindon. Which isn’t exactly a glamorous alternative. With you, though, either way. Waiting, like a pair of turkeys, for Christmas to—’

‘All right.’ Harry drained his glass. ‘Drink up. We’re off.’

‘Where to?’

‘Wait and see. I’ve had an idea.’

‘God help us.’

Harry stood up. ‘Are you coming?’

Chipchase polished off his whisky, clamped the cigar between his teeth, grabbed his hat and coat and rose to his feet. ‘Apparently,’ he mumbled.