Play to the End (17 page)

It was an accident, Mr. Flood. That's what it was. Just an accident."

"The police obviously didn't think so."

"Well, Dad said some things... about his illness. He wanted them to charge him with manslaughter, you see, or better still murder. He wanted a high-profile trial. The chance to say what Sir Walter had done to his workers. The truth is, though, it was an accident."

"Does Roger believe that?"

"I don't know what he believes. I'm sure he had the trial delayed, though. He has a lot of friends; a lot of influence. Thanks to him, Dad never had his day in court."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Derek."

"Thanks, Mr. Flood."

"When did your mother .. ."

"Not long after Dad. Looking after him put a huge strain on her. After he passed away, she just.. . faded."

"Leaving you alone, to think about Roger Colborn and how to get back at him."

"I'm not after revenge."

"No? Well, he won't give you a day in court any more than he gave your father one, Derek. That's the truth. You've more or less admitted the book's libellous. No publisher will touch it. The only way you can get anywhere with this is to prove the case scientifically. And even then .. ." I hesitated. If Derek didn't know about the sale of Colbonite to a shell company and the consequences of the move, I wasn't sure I wanted to be the one to tell him.

"Mr. Colborn has taken precautions against every contingency, I know.

He's been very clever."

"You're not the only one bearing a grudge against him, if it's any consolation. I met his uncle. Gavin Colborn. He told me all about Sir Walter's death. Except that he never mentioned your father was the car driver."

"He's probably forgotten the name. There's no reason why he should remember it. We've never met. I saw him a few times, at Colbonite.

But I was .. . beneath his notice."

"You have something in common, though. A desire to put a spoke in Roger Colborn's wheel."

"It would be nice ... to do something."

"Yes. And I'm the spoke, aren't I? If I could win Jenny back .. ."

"Mr. Colborn would be seriously put out."

"It's not exactly justice. But it's better than nothing. The only problem is, I'm not sure I can pull it off."

"Surely, if Mrs. Flood understands what Mr. Colborn did to people like my father .. . '

"If she understands, Derek. Oh yes. She couldn't stomach that. But how do I prove it to her? How do I convince her I'm not levelling an unfounded accusation in order to split them up? Where's the hard, incontrovertible evidence?"

Derek pursed his lips, rocking back and forth slightly in his chair as he pondered our shared difficulty. Then he said, with a meek acceptance of the unalterable, "There isn't any."

"You see?"

Suddenly, Derek stopped rocking. He pondered a little longer, then said, "No evidence as such. Only witnesses."

"The tainted kind, if you mean the likes of you and Uncle Gavin. He suggested his sister, Delia, but seemed to doubt she knew enough to sway Jenny."

"I feel he's almost certainly right there. As far as knowledge is concerned, I could only suggest Dr. Kilner."

"Who?"

"The biochemist Colbonite "consulted" over the risks posed by the curing agent. Dr. Maurice Kilner. He was a head of department at the University of Sussex."

"Was?"

"Since retired."

"With a handsome pay-off from the Colborns, presumably."

"I'm not sure. If Mr. Colborn has a weakness, it's parsimony. I saw Dr. Kilner in Waitrose a few months ago. He didn't look as if he was living in the lap of luxury."

"No?"

Derek shook his head, smiling faintly at the notion he'd planted in my mind without needing to put it into words. "No."

"I'm surprised you haven't spoken to him about this."

"I don't think he'd be willing to discuss anything with a former employee of Colbonite. He'd be fearful of the consequences."

"What about somebody who'd never worked for Colbonite?"

"It might be different."

"There's only one way to find out."

"Yes, Mr. Flood. There is." Derek cleared his throat. "Would you like to know where Dr. Kilner lives?"

I left Derek in a much calmer state than I'd found him in. The Plastic Men was going nowhere. He understood and accepted that. But our campaign against Roger Colborn if it was a campaign and if it was ours that might yet have legs. It was agreed I'd try to contact Dr. Kilner and would tell Derek what I'd accomplished, if anything, after tonight's show.

The rain had stopped. I walked down London Road through the drying grey early afternoon, wondering just what kind of an ally I'd saddled myself with in Derek Oswin. He can be relied on in some things, but not in others. And he's frightened of Roger Colborn understandably.

Perhaps I should be as well. But other imperatives have blanked out fear. I can't let Jenny marry this man, even if I fail to win her back. And I can't ignore what happened to Denis.

The Great Eastern in Trafalgar Street was still serving food. I sat in a cosily gloomy corner and worked my way through a late lunch while mulling over my next move. I had an address for Dr. Kilner, but no telephone number. I borrowed a directory from behind the bar, but he wasn't listed, so there was no other way to approach him but on the doorstep. I swapped the directory for a Brighton A-Z and found Pennsylvania Court in Cromwell Road, Hove, just behind the county cricket ground. There was nothing to be gained by delay, unless I wanted to give myself the chance to change my mind. And that I didn't.

Resisting the lure of a second drink, I headed for the taxi rank up at the station.

The cab was most of the way to my destination when fate intervened, in the form of Brian Sallis on my mobile.

"I'm with Ian Maple, Toby. We're at Denis's lodgings in Egremont Place. Can you join us here?"

Dr. Kilner, it was apparent, would have to wait.

Thanks to already being in a taxi when Brian called, I was at Egremont Place in no more than ten minutes. Brian was waiting for me outside number 65, a narrow-fronted, bay-windowed house near the northern end. Ian Maple, he explained, was inside, sorting through his brother's possessions.

"He's pretty cut up, Toby, as you can imagine, and looking for answers."

"Answers to what?"

"Questions raised by a message he had from Denis last night. Look, he knows you found Denis and that the two of you went back a long way. Can I leave you to ... go through what happened?"

"You're not coming in?"

"I have to get back to the theatre. Just tell the poor chap as much as you can. Mrs. Dunn will let you in. She's expecting you."

As promised, Mrs. Dunn was expecting me. She'd put Denis up more than once over the years and was clearly upset. "It's a terrible thing, Mr.

Flood. He was too young to go and do this on me."

"I know."

"His brother's upstairs. Second floor, front. Will you tell him what we talked about earlier is fine by me?"

"Sure."

I climbed the stairs and found the door to Denis's room ajar. A younger, balder, bulkier version of my late friend and colleague was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey fleece over a sweatshirt. He looked like a tough guy who at the moment wasn't feeling very tough at all.

It took several seconds for my presence to register with him. Then he stood up slowly, the bed springs creakily extending themselves, and fixed me with a clear-eyed gaze.

"Toby Flood?"

"Yes. Pleased to meet you." We shook hands, his grip large and powerful. "Though sorry, of course, about the circumstances."

"Yeah."

"Mrs. Dunn asked me to tell you .. . something you discussed earlier

... is fine by her."

"I asked if she could put me up for a couple of days."

"You're stopping over?"

"Till I find out what Denis had got himself into. Brian Sallis reckoned you might know."

Thanks, Brian, I thought; I owe you one. "He said you'd had a message from Denis."

"Yeah. On my answer phone He pulled a small tape recorder out of his pocket and stood it on the bedside cabinet. "Want to hear it?"

"If you don't mind."

He pressed the play button. An electronic voice announced, "Next new message. Received today at eleven fifty-three p.m." Then Denis was speaking to us, his voice hushed and fuzzy. "Hi, Ian. Big brother here. Sorry not to have caught you. I've run into some trouble. Not sure how serious. Could be very. I might need some help. I have a bad feeling and .. . Send Mum and Dad my love, will you? It's too late to call them. Hope all's well with you. "Bye."

Ian Maple rewound the tape, then switched the machine off. "What's it all about, Toby?" he asked.

"Hard to say." I sat down on the only chair in the room, playing for time to little purpose. My instincts told me not to involve this man I hardly knew in my dealings with Roger Colborn. Yet I couldn't simply deny all knowledge. I should have checked the events of the previous evening with Glenys. I should have prepared myself. I'd done neither.

Playing a part without any kind of rehearsal is playing with fire. But it's what I had to do. "Denis phoned me shortly before he left that message for you. He said someone was .. . chasing him. He wasn't very specific. He was at a bus stop in North Street. I agreed to meet him there at midnight. When I got there, he'd gone. I walked towards my lodgings, thinking he might have headed in that direction. That's how I came to find him, by the fountain on the Steine."

"Already dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

Ian sat back down on the bed, to another squeal from the springs. "Do you think someone was after him?"

"He said so."

"Did you believe him?"

"Yes." I couldn't write Denis off as a fantasist, however evasive I was being. "I believed him."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know." (True enough.)

"No idea at all?"

"None." (Not true enough.)

"I mean to find out."

"I wish you luck. It's going to be difficult."

"I won't let that stop me. Having me as a kid brother wasn't always a Cakewalk. I owe it to Denis to try."

"How are your parents taking this?"

"It's knocked them for six. Me too, I don't mind admitting. Another heart attack was always on the cards. You just don't think it'll happen, though, do you?"

"No. You don't."

"When did you last speak to Denis? Face to face, I mean."

"We had coffee together yesterday morning."

"How did he seem then?"

"Chirpy as ever."

"Sallis said Denis stood in for you the night before."

"Yes. I had flu."

"That a fact?" There was a hint of scepticism in his tone. His gaze was disconcertingly direct. I was already certain that he suspected me of holding something back. "If you remember anything, Toby, however minor, however .. . apparently trivial, that could help me .. ."

"I'll let you know straight away."

"Denis said you fixed him up with this job."

"I put a word in, nothing more. It was the least I could do. Denis was one of the best."

"Yeah. He was. That's why it's such a crying bloody shame it had to end like this."

I couldn't disagree with that last sentiment. But nor could I share everything I knew with Denis's brother and aspiring avenger. Derek was in a fragile enough state as it was without having Ian Maple cross-questioning him. As for Roger Colborn, I didn't rate Ian a match for him. And one favour I did owe Denis was to avoid dragging another member of his family into my troubles. If I could.

The light was already failing as I trailed back towards the Sea Air.

I'd just about concluded that there wasn't enough time to have another go at Dr. Kilner, when I reached St. James's Street and spotted a bus bound for Hove bearing down on me. A sprint to the next stop got me aboard with just enough breath to ask the driver if he was going along Cromwell Road. And since he was ... I paid my fare and sat down.

As soon as I'd got my breath back, I phoned Brian.

"How'd it go with Ian Maple, Toby?"

"As well as could be expected, given that you'd told him I knew what Denis was mixed up in."

"I didn't have much choice once I'd listened to the tape. Besides, you do know, don't you? That's the vibe I'm getting."

Tan's going to get himself mixed up in it as well if he has his way.

I'd like to prevent that."

"Can't help you there, Toby. The guy's entitled to ask who he likes what he likes. This is really no legitimate concern of Leo S.

Gauntlett Productions."

"Great."

"Sorry, but there it is."

"Yeah. Of course. Look I was going to ask him for Glenys's mobile number, but suddenly changed my mind. What was the point now of finding out what Denis did or didn't say to her last night? I could hardly expect her to keep Ian Maple in the dark on my account. The cards would simply have to lie as they fell. "Never mind. See you later, Brian."

The phone was hardly back in my pocket when it rang again. My first thought was that Brian was back on to check I hadn't taken umbrage on a disastrous scale. I had no stand-in now, after all. But it wasn't Brian.

"Hi-de-hi, Toby. Syd squeaking. Anxious to confirm you got as much as you wanted out of my old school chum, Gav of the omnipresent smile."

"Meeting him was a big help, Syd. Thanks for setting it up."

"You thinking of paying his sister a call?"

"Maybe."

"Only, if you are, I suspect the encounter might go more smoothly with me riding shotgun for you. Delia and I have what you might call history."