Fatal Act (23 page)

‘No, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean he was good to her. Piers is a wonderful man. He’s a real charmer. He knows how to look after a woman. He’s a gentleman. You know if I was ten years younger, I’d be after him myself. Anna was a lucky girl –’ She broke down in tears and dabbed at her eyes again.

W
hen Geraldine asked about Marco, Dinah’s expression changed. She muttered darkly about his being totally unsuitable.

‘With my help, Bethany was destined for a dazzling career. Marco would only have held her back. It’s very difficult for these young talents to give a hundred per cent to their art while they’re in a relationship. Bethany needed a special kind of partner. Actors can be called to work anywhere in the world. They can be on tour for months. Marco was no good for her. He’s a selfish callow young man.’

‘Have you met him?’

‘No, but Bethany used to talk about him, and I saw his work.’

‘His work?’

‘His stage performances at the college. He’s a good looking boy but he hasn’t got what it takes. And he’s only interested in himself. Bethany deserved better. She was a hard working girl. You know she had a job in the holidays to help finance her way through college? She was so dedicated.’

D
inah leaned back in her chair and inhaled deeply before taking a mirror from her bag and checking that her eye make-up was intact.

‘Is there anything else you can tell me? Were you aware that Anna or Bethany was worried about anything?’

Dinah shook her head.

‘They didn’t say anything. They would have told me. My clients talk to me, Inspector, they trust me to take care of them. I look after every aspect of their careers, nurture them –’

‘What about Dirk?’

‘Who’s Dirk?’

‘Anna’s ex, Dirk Goodbody.’

‘He’s nothing.’ Dinah gave a dismissive shake of her head. ‘No, Piers was the one.’

‘Did you know Dirk? He’s at the drama school.’

‘There are so many of them. I’ve seen him in productions, but he hasn’t got what it takes. I have an eye for talent.’

‘Did either of the victims ever mention him?’

‘No.’

T
he door flew open and Dinah’s young assistant came in holding a tray of takeaway teas. After they had sorted out Dinah’s decaff and Juniper’s sugar, Geraldine questioned the young woman.

‘She doesn’t know anything,’ Dinah interrupted. ‘Juniper’s invaluable,’ she added with a sudden smile at her assistant, ‘I’d be lost without her, but she focuses on the admin. I deal with my clients personally. That’s my way.’

Juniper kept her eyes firmly on her tea.

‘If anything occurs to you that could help us find out who might have wanted to harm Anna and Bethany, give me a call,’ Geraldine said, handing Juniper her card.

‘S
he sounds like a right drama queen,’ Sam commented when Geraldine told her about the interview with Dinah Jedway. ‘What about her assistant? Do you think she knew anything?’

Geraldine frowned.

‘I don’t think so. She kept very quiet. I’m not altogether sure if that’s because she had nothing to say, or if she was intimidated in front of her boss. But I gave her a card, so she can call if she wants to speak to us.’

The two detectives exchanged a wordless glance. They each knew what was going through the other’s mind. One phone call from a witness and the whole case might be resolved by the end of the day. Geraldine imagined Juniper arriving at the station to give a statement.

‘I saw him, it was definitely Marco – or Piers – or Dirk –’

But that was an idle wish. In the absence of any unforeseen revelation, all they had to rely on was systematic detective work.

G
ERALDINE
FELL
INTO
BED
that night. After a sound sleep she woke feeling invigorated, and spent the morning catching up with her paper work, checking documents, bringing her decision log up to date and listing expenses. At lunch time she took the train to Goodge Street and walked along Charlotte Street to the bar where Bethany had worked over Christmas. Geraldine wasn’t sure what she was going to learn there, but she had to find out as much as she could about the victims she was investigating. Such thoroughness might turn out to be a waste of time, but there were occasions when it proved invaluable.

A
narrow entrance opened out to a bar area with benches along the walls. The dark wooden floor looked as though it hadn’t been swept for a while. The furniture had been selected for its character rather than for comfort. When Geraldine arrived the place was almost empty, with just a few people sitting around chatting over a lunch time drink. After a quick look around, Geraldine spoke to a young man behind the bar. The manageress appeared promptly when Geraldine asked to see her. In a crisp white shirt and pin striped trouser suit, she looked out of place in the informal atmosphere of the bar. She frowned when Geraldine explained the reason for her visit.

‘Yes, I heard about Bethany. It’s hard to believe. I mean, I can’t say I knew her well, but I interviewed her and knew her to speak to. She filled in during the holidays over the summer and Christmas and so on. It’s useful to have people who know the ropes and can step in. But if you want to know about her in any detail, I’m not the best person to ask. All I can do is look up her details, address, phone number, the hours she’s worked, and so on, nothing you won’t already know. Thea would be able to tell you more. She’s behind the bar now. She worked with Bethany and I think they were friends. Wait here and I’ll send her over.’

G
eraldine sat down and waited. The bench was uncomfortably hard. She wondered why there were no cushions on the wooden seats. Meanwhile the manageress went to the bar and spoke to a young woman who glanced over at Geraldine. With a cursory nod at the manageress, the woman approached Geraldine and introduced herself. She was about thirty, short and thin, with ginger hair and a pointed face. She sat down beside Geraldine, gazing at her solemnly.

‘I heard about Bethany,’ she said in a low voice. ‘What happened?’

‘I’m afraid she was murdered. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not like we were particularly close, I mean we never socialised, never saw each other away from here, but she was great fun to work with, you know. I really liked her. Who did it?’

Geraldine told her what little detail had already appeared in the papers, and then asked Thea if she could think of anything that might help them to trace who had killed Bethany.

‘Did anything strike you as in any way out of the ordinary recently?’

Thea looked puzzled.

‘I don’t think so. I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘Did her behaviour change at all? Did she mention anything or anyone she was worried about, or any trouble she was in?’

T
hea didn’t answer straight away but sat staring down at her hands. Geraldine waited. After a few minutes the barmaid looked up with a troubled expression.

‘Well, yes and no.’

‘What do you mean?’ Geraldine prompted her after another pause. ‘Do you think something was bothering her? Or someone?’

Thea shrugged.

‘It was nothing new. She was worried about her boyfriend. I think his name’s Mark.’

‘Do you mean Marco?’

‘Yes, that was it. Marco.’

‘What about him?’

‘You asked if she was worried about anyone. Well, she was always worrying about him. She had problems with him.’

‘What sort of problems?’

‘She said she wanted to leave him but he was really clingy, and that made it difficult. She was studying drama and she wanted to be in films or on the telly. She said she wanted to work in America when she finished at college. She said that’s where the opportunities are. But she didn’t think he’d ever let her go. He was possessive like that. To be honest, I think she was a bit scared of him, and what he might do.’ She paused and leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘He beat some guy up one time, just for talking to her. He thought the other guy was pestering her. Anyway, I think she was a bit scared of Marco, although she wasn’t the sort to be easily scared. She was tough.’

Thea stared at Geraldine, wide-eyed, clearly in awe of Bethany and the drama in her short life.

A
lthough Geraldine was worn out, it was impossible to ignore a chorus of cheers as she walked past the visual images identification and detection office on returning to the police station. Officers who had been tasked with examining CCTV footage from the roads immediately surrounding the first crime scene were now scrutinising film recorded in the street leading up to the bridge where Bethany had been killed. Geraldine stuck her head round the door to see what the noise was about. Sam looked up and grinned at her, beckoning to her to join her.

‘What’s going on?’

The team were buzzing with excitement at having spotted a pedestrian who appeared to be following Bethany onto the bridge. Geraldine went over to look for herself.

A
tall lanky figure in a dark coat was striding along the edge of the pavement. At times it disappeared off the edge of the screen into the shadow of a building before reappearing beneath a street lamp or lit up by the headlights of a passing vehicle.

‘Look at that!’ a constable crowed as Bethany paused and the figure did likewise. ‘It happens again in a minute – look! There they go.’

Geraldine watched, mesmerised, as Bethany paused and looked around. At the same instant, the second figure halted and spun on its heel to face in the opposite direction. A moment later, the tall individual’s head turned cautiously. There could be little doubt that Bethany was being followed. The victim resumed making her way along the street towards the bridge. After peeking round the tall figure set off in pursuit once more. It was an exciting interlude, but disappointing at the same time because there was no way of identifying the mysterious tall figure. They couldn’t even be sure if it was a man or a woman. All they could tell by enhancing the image was that Bethany’s pursuer was about six feet tall, wearing a long loose hooded coat, trousers, and flat shoes or boots.

G
eraldine thought about what she had been told about Marco, and wondered if he could be the mysterious stranger who had followed Bethany minutes before she was murdered. He was quite tall. More than one witness had remarked on his violent temper, and now Thea had mentioned his jealousy. Remembering her meeting with him, she frowned. He was certainly volatile, yet she had the impression his passion was just so much hot air. Still, an impression wasn’t evidence, and anyway she had to report what she had been told. She found Reg talking to Jayne, a psychological profiler. Reg’s eyes lit up when Geraldine told them what Thea had said. He turned to the profiler.

‘What do you think, Jayne?’

Geraldine did her best to hide her petty irritation when the detective chief inspector solicited Jayne’s opinion first.

‘I
t seems very likely,’ Jayne replied.

She spoke slowly, as though considering what Thea had said. But she hadn’t spoken to the witness herself, and she hadn’t met Marco. Geraldine had. She couldn’t control her irritation any longer.

‘It’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? First we suspect Piers of flying into a manic rage with Anna for seeing Dirk, and now Marco’s apparently guilty of a similar motive for murdering his girlfriend who was seeing Piers. How convenient.’

‘A coincidence, or a common motive for murder?’ Jayne asked quietly.

‘Murder isn’t common,’ Geraldine retorted.

She was no longer even trying to conceal her vexation with her superior officer and his tame profiler, neither of whom had even met the man they were glibly concluding had killed Bethany.

H
er mood didn’t improve when Reg raised his eyebrows on hearing that Geraldine hadn’t asked Marco for an alibi when she had spoken to him.

‘He’s not – at least he wasn’t – under investigation at that time.’

‘He was her boyfriend,’ Jayne interjected, as though that automatically made him a suspect. ‘Statistically, the husband or the boyfriend is the most likely suspect in any murder case, Geraldine.’

‘We’re not dealing with statistics –’ Geraldine began.

‘Well, no harm done,’ Reg interrupted. ‘Let’s bring the boyfriend in and see what he has to say for himself. I dare say he’ll be more forthcoming when we put the pressure on him to tell us what really happened.’

‘Yes, I’m dying to know how he managed to pull that disappearing act on the bridge,’ Jayne agreed cheerfully.

‘We’ll find out soon enough,’ Reg assured her.

Geraldine hoped his optimism wasn’t misplaced.

N
EXT
TIME
THEY
MET,
his uncle suggested a fashionable Italian restaurant off Regent Street. Zak went inside and looked around at white table cloths, white chairs, and waiters who hovered discreetly. The atmosphere was quietly busy. At first he didn’t spot his uncle sitting in a dark corner where they were unlikely to be overheard. He felt like a spy as he sidled over and sat down, half hidden in the shadows. They had already agreed they would tell no one about their meetings. Zak didn’t want his father crashing in on his relationship with his newly discovered uncle. Piers would want to take over. The secrecy of their liaison added to the thrill of meeting his uncle.

A
s they studied the menu, Zak started to relax. He selected dishes from the menu, reckless of expense. His uncle was footing the bill. His father rarely spent time with him like that, just the two of them. Whenever they went out it was always in a group. His father would make use of such outings to woo anyone supporting his latest production. When he wasn’t courting people who could assist his career, he would be chatting up a young actress. Zak alone was never audience enough for his father. But his uncle seemed happy to pass an evening just with him.

‘S
o, what’s the latest with you?’ Darius asked when they had placed their order.

He leaned his elbows on the table and smiled encouragingly at Zak who took a sip of wine and returned the smile. He was relieved to discover his uncle’s interest in him hadn’t diminished. On the contrary, he seemed eager to hear about his nephew’s current project. Zak tried to explain the problems he was experiencing with his director.