The Malcontenta (33 page)

‘How did they get on to you?’

‘You remember I told you the clinic’s computer might record the numbers of incoming connections? Well, it did -Tanner was able to trace a call from our hotel that night I tried to break into the computer. And while we were at the hotel we used a credit card. I guess that was stupid, but it’s all very well being Mr and Mrs Smith until you want to pay for something. We never carry much cash around.’

‘All the same, it was pretty clever of Tanner to put all that together.’

‘Yeah. And so quickly. He’s a tough customer, Kathy. You should be careful where he’s concerned.’

‘I know that, Belle. Was he rough on you?’

‘Oh, not really. He just came straight to the point once he’d worked out what I’d done. I had a choice, he said. I could stay and fight, face disciplinary action, then the sack and probably prison, and my husband would probably lose his job at IBM too, given how sensitive they would be to this kind of crime in the family. Alternatively, I could sign a statement and resign gracefully, without retribution. I’m sorry, Kathy, I had to sign.’

‘Of course you did.’ Kathy felt her throat constrict as if a noose were being tightened around it. ‘What did it say?’

‘Oh, just about everything. What I did, whose idea it was, your friend’s offer to pay for the room. Everything.’

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Kathy’s hand was aching from gripping the receiver so tightly.

‘I’m sorry, Kathy,’ Belle repeated at last.

Kathy took a deep breath. ‘There was nothing else you could do, Belle. I had to sign something similar. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Yeah, well, good luck.’

‘What I really need is information. I feel as if I’m blind.’ ‘What kind of information?’

‘About Rose Duggan’s murder. What evidence they have against the man they’ve arrested, what statements other people have made, things like that. I’d hoped that Penny Elliot could have found out something for me, but they’re keeping everything on the second floor locked up very tight. She doesn’t know much more than is in the newspapers.’

‘Has she tried her computer?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘The CID computers on the second floor are networked. Some of the ones on the third floor are in the same network. Hers will be. She could look at their case files.’

Kathy bit her lip, hesitating. ‘What will be there? Would there be investigating officers’ reports? Forensic reports?’

‘I doubt it. Those things are still going on to paper and into the manual files in the CID file room. But some useful stuff goes on to the computer files. Transcripts of taped interviews, for example.’

‘Of course!’ Kathy remembered the print-outs.

‘I have to go, Kathy. I hope it works out.’ Belle couldn’t hide the doubt in her voice.

‘Something?’ Brock asked.

‘Maybe.’ Kathy explained about the computer files, then described the way in which Tanner had traced Belle’s involvement. ‘Rose died on the Monday, and by the Wednesday, when he pulled me in, he knew all about Belle. I can hardly believe it! He couldn’t even have known that we’d tried to break into the clinic computer, and yet within - what? -thirty-six hours, he had it all worked out and had traced telephone numbers and credit cards.’ Kathy shook her head. ‘It’s scary, Brock.’

The phone began ringing as she said it.

It was Patrick. ‘Didn’t have much luck, Kathy. I couldn’t find any of those things in your room. Er …’

‘What?’

‘Well, your room’s pretty untidy. I just wasn’t sure if it’s always like that.’

‘Like what, Patrick?’

‘Well, the drawer on the floor, you know? And the stuff all over the bed.’

‘Oh …’ Kathy bowed her head and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Don’t worry, Patrick. It doesn’t matter. Just lock the place up again and leave it. Is the car still outside?’

‘Hang on.’ The phone banged on the table and she heard his footsteps echo down the hall, then return. ‘Yep, still there.’

‘Well, just ignore them. Thanks for your help, Patrick. I’ll see you sometime soon.’

She turned to Brock. ‘The bastard. He got in anyway.’

Brock shook his head. ‘Kathy …’ he began slowly, ‘who else knew about us meeting at the Hart Revived that day when we talked about getting Belle involved?’

‘No one. The only way anyone would have known is if the phone you used at the clinic was bugged. Isn’t that the only possibility?’

‘Mmm. It seems a bit elaborate to monitor the patients’ phone calls, but-’

‘Oh shit.’ Kathy suddenly froze on the stool where she was sitting beside the phone. She was pale. ‘Gordon Dowling. I saw him the next day. I’d forgotten all about it. I was in a terrible rush when I bumped into him. He looked so bloody sad and I gave him something to cheer him up. I told him about our meeting in the pub and how we planned to get into the computer at the clinic’

She closed her eyes and groaned. ‘Oh Brock, how could I be so dumb. Gordon Dowling - poor, dozy, gay Gordon Dowling.’

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Brock said, ‘Maybe there was another way Tanner could have found out.’

But Kathy shook her head, her shoulders sagging. ‘No. That’s it for sure. That’s just about the end, isn’t it? Gordon betrayed us.’

Brock said nothing but got to his feet and went over to a cupboard under one end of the long work-top. From inside he fished out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label and a couple of glasses.

‘I suppose,’ Brock thought aloud as he poured the drinks, ‘it would be interesting to know
when
he betrayed us.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Did he talk to Tanner only after Rose was murdered, or did Tanner already know I was at the clinic? Had Gordon already told him about his visit here, with you, to this house?’

‘Oh yes. And before that, Rose’s letter to me.’ Kathy groaned, and then suddenly stiffened. ‘And if he knew then, why not last October when he put me on the Petrou case with Gordon in the first place? There was something about that -the way Tanner always seemed to know what I was doing, even though he didn’t seem much interested in my reports.’ She screwed up her forehead in thought, sipping absent-mindedly from the glass.

‘So you think Dowling could have been reporting back to Tanner all the time?’ Brock frowned. ‘Pretty devious. I didn’t really imagine him leading a double life.’

‘Perhaps he had no choice. The greengrocer, Jerry, spotted him as gay right away, but I don’t think any of his mates in the force know it. Jerry was fearful of what kind of treatment he would get if they did find out. Maybe Gordon wasn’t ready to face that. Maybe Tanner found out and used it. I imagine that’s the kind of working relationship that Tanner likes to have with subordinates.’

Brock shook his head. ‘Poor Gordon.’

‘I’ll break his bloody neck!’ Kathy drained the glass and slammed it down on the work-top.

‘Well, how do we get even?’

‘Penny Elliot for a start.’ She dialled the number and explained what Belle had told her.

‘The CID computer files? I never use them. Hang on, I’ll try.’

Kathy waited for three or four long minutes before Penny came back. ‘Yes, there is something. The files have got number codes. There’s quite a lot of them. I don’t suppose you know the case number of the Duggan murder?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘Well, I could just go through them until I find it. Or perhaps I could sort them by date. When do you want this?’

‘Oh, Penny, you know …’

‘Tonight, you mean. Well, I suppose I could stay on a bit. Do you want a print-out or a disk?’

‘Either would be great.’

‘I’ll ring you back in an hour and tell you how it’s going.’

She did exactly that. ‘It’ll take another half an hour, then I’ll be going home. Do you want to pick it up there? I live in Tunbridge Wells. I’ll tell you how to find the house.’

Kathy took down the instructions, then turned to Brock. ‘I’d better get moving. What’s the quickest way to the A21 from here?’

‘I should come with you. Tanner’s got me feeling nervous for you now. Maybe he’s got something on your friend Penny, too.’

Kathy smiled, suddenly weary. Was it only this morning they’d had breakfast in Vicenza? ‘I shouldn’t think so, Brock. I’ll be fine. But maybe I could come back here to sleep tonight? At least it’s out of his territory. I just wish I could go home to my flat in Finchley.’

‘I wonder if your fellow tenant has had a visit from Tanner too.’

‘Yes, very likely.’

It was almost midnight before she returned. Brock was waiting up for her, although he had given her a key. The study smelled of toast, and Brock indicated a plate of bread and cheese and pickles. ‘Hungry?’ He took the toasting fork from its hook beside the gas fire and set to work.

Kathy collapsed into the chair, clutching a fat envelope. Brock eyed it. ‘Looks as if she came up trumps.’

She nodded. ‘I haven’t had a chance to go through it yet, but it looks promising.’

‘We’ll get to work in the morning. You look all in.’

‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘but it isn’t just that. That day you rang me from Rome, Penny gave me addresses for Gordon Dow-ling’s next of kin. I remembered when I was talking to her that I’d written them down in my diary. So when I left her this evening I thought I might look them up. His mother lives not too far from Crowbridge, and I wondered if he might be there. He was.

‘She didn’t want me to see him at first. She’s a formidable woman. Small, but tough as old boots and very protective. She said he was ill, and when he eventually appeared at the front door he certainly looked it. They let me in and I had a chat with him alone for a while.’

Kathy took the toast Brock offered her and began cutting slices of cheese. ‘We were right, Brock. He’s been spying for Tanner for a couple of years. It seems Tanner has been monitoring the gay scene in Crowbridge, and when Gordon’s name came to his attention he decided to use him to keep an eye on things. Gordon’s terrified of Tanner. Tanner’s told him he’s moving back to the Met with Long when his promotion is confirmed, and he’s going to take Gordon with him, but frankly I don’t think Gordon’s going to make it. He told me he’s thought of running away to sea or taking his own life. He broke down when he was talking to me. Burst into tears. He’s a mess.’

Kathy shook her head, ‘So Tanner knew everything, all along the line. What a farce! I led you straight into it, Brock. I just don’t know what to say.’

He shrugged. ‘Such is life. If we both end up selling hamburgers at the gates of Stanhope Clinic, so be it. We’ll probably make a fortune. The thing I’m more interested in is who killed Rose and Petrou. Tanner wasn’t smarter than us, just better informed. I wonder how much better informed he is about Parsons? Let’s hope there’s something, in there’ - he nodded at the envelope Kathy had brought back from Penny - ‘because I still can’t see it.’

‘It has to be Beamish-Newell’ Kathy surprised him with her sudden vehemence. ‘We’ve been going round and round this,’ she went on, ‘but in the end he’s the only one who fits. He told us all those lies about his movements when Petrou was killed, he was on the spot when Rose was killed and, as Gabriele said, he’s ruthless in getting what he wants.’

‘What motive?’

‘He’s a closet gay. Petrou tried blackmailing him, having been pointed in the right direction by Gabriele. He murdered Petrou, and then Rose discovered something from Parsons that would incriminate Beamish-Newell, and he had to kill her too.’

‘Come on, Kathy,’ Brock objected. ‘These days you don’t kill people who threaten to reveal you’re bisexual. All right, Dowling - a young lad just starting out in the police force -might be intimidated by a bully like Tanner, but Beamish-Newell would never have been panicked by Petrou. He’d have told him to get lost.’

‘Maybe he was blackmailing other people too - the goats, important people who would have been embarrassed to appear in the tabloids wearing what Petrou died in.’

Brock shook his head, unconvinced. ‘They’d pay up, buy him off. He’d have accepted, I’m sure. Murder’s far too risky.’

‘Perhaps it depends how greedy he was.’

They sat a while longer in front of the hissing gas fire, talking over the possibilities, until Brock offered to show her to her room. Although she’d grown used to sleeping under a duvet in her own bed, the crisp white sheets were freshly laundered and tucked in tight, the way a nurse would have done it, and Kathy fell quickly into a deep sleep. By the time Brock started roaming around in the kitchen next morning, she had already showered and made a pot of coffee, and was working in the study on Penny’s material.

‘While you get on with that,’ Brock told her over a bowl of cornflakes, ‘I think I’d better go up to the Yard and snoop around. Try to find out discreetly how we’re placed before I make an official entrance.’

It was late morning before he returned, looking preoccupied and carrying a bulging briefcase.

‘How did it go?’ Kathy said, and had to make do with the muttered reply, ‘Don’t ask.’

He took off his jacket and tie and cast an eye over the paperwork sorted into piles on the bench. He grunted abstractedly, hands deep in his pockets, and Kathy had the impression his mind wasn’t taking anything in.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked. ‘I mean, even more wrong than we thought?’

‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘Look at this.’

He turned to the armchair where he’d thrown his briefcase and pulled out a small brown-paper parcel. It had been neatly wrapped and just as carefully opened. ‘Security thought it was a bomb.’

He spread the brown paper open and showed her the paperback book inside. The pages were dog-eared and yellowing with age. Its title was
Meaning in the Visual Arts,
and the author Erwin Panovsky. Brock opened the cover and pulled out a folded sheet of plain white paper, on which there were a few lines of handwriting. He handed it to her without a word, and she read,

Dear David,

Chapter 7 is for you.

Forgive me.

Forgive those who helped me, please, please, for my sake3. Remember me. I
too
was in Arcady.

G.

Puzzled, Kathy picked up the book and turned to chapter 7, an essay on a group of paintings and their common theme, entitled
‘Et in Arcadia Ego’.
She looked up at Brock for an explanation.