A Line to Kill

Kathryn was angry now. ‘Why should I tell you?’ she demanded. ‘What he said has got nothing to do with you.’

‘This is a murder investigation. It’s got everything to do with me.’

She stared at him defiantly. ‘If you tell Marc Bellamy, I’ll lose my job.’

‘I’m not telling anyone, Kathryn, but I need to know.’

She paused, then said in a low voice: ‘He asked me to go with him to the gunnery at the bottom of the garden. He called it his “snuggery”, which just made me feel sick. He wanted me to—’ She broke off. ‘He suggested something really obscene.’

‘And what did you say?’

Before she answered, she removed her glasses and wiped them with a serviette. By the time she had put them on again, she was back in control. ‘I don’t know what you think of me, Mr Hawthorne, but I already told you I’ve worked in the hospitality industry and I’ve met enough middle-aged men who’ve had too much to drink and think I can be served up like a canapé. I told Charles le Mesurier to get lost and I didn’t see him again. I’ll tell you this, though. I think Marc may have had a point. If somebody’s killed him, they’ve probably made the world a slightly better place.’ She smiled briefly. ‘Anything else?’

But before Hawthorne could answer, Colin Matheson appeared in the doorway. He was looking pleased.

‘Mr Hawthorne,’ he said, ‘I thought you should know. The police have arrived.’

10 Bad Blood

Two police officers were in the hallway. They had not come alone. A group of men and women were passing through the house carrying metal cases, cameras and other equipment. A couple of them were dressed in those white overalls you see on TV programmes. There were more of them in the garden. I could see a spool of police tape fluttering in front of the Snuggery.

‘Mr Hawthorne, I believe! What a great pleasure to meet you and how fortunate for us that you were here!’

I had shadowed Hawthorne on two investigations and it would be fair to say that the regular police had not taken kindly to him on either occasion, resenting his interference as much as they needed his expertise. However, this time I was pleasantly surprised. The man who had spoken was very tall, with a crumpled appearance, pockmarked cheeks and fair hair hanging down in strands. He was dressed in plain clothes – a jacket and tie. But the most remarkable thing about him was that he was positively beaming. His blue eyes had lit up at his first sighting of Hawthorne.

‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he went on. ‘Deputy Chief Jonathan Torode. This is Special Constable Jane Whitlock.’

Whitlock was standing behind him, holding a hat that she was twisting out of shape. She was quite a bit shorter than him and older too, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a knee-length skirt and dark stockings that did her no favours. Her hair was dark brown and limp, falling over a square forehead and sullen eyes. The two of them could have been a nephew and aunt, visiting Alderney for a day trip and recovering from a particularly rough crossing.

‘It’s a nasty business. Very nasty. We’ve just been over to the building at the bottom of the garden. What is it? An old battery? I have to say, I’ve never seen anything like it. You know, there’s never been a murder on Alderney and we don’t have any experience of it in Guernsey either. I’ve been in the force for twenty-six years and the only dead body I’ve ever seen was some chap who fell off a ladder and broke his neck. Anyway, this is a completely different kettle of fish. John Le Mesurier. Was that his name?’

‘Charles, I think.’

‘Yes. That’s right. I’m getting him confused with the actor. I understand he was wealthy.’

‘So I hear.’

Torode looked at Hawthorne curiously for a moment, then broke into laughter. ‘Ha ha! Yes! Keeping your cards close to your chest. I can understand that. Look, why don’t we go into the kitchen and have a chat?’ He noticed me for the first time. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m working with him,’ I said.

‘Good. Good. Whitlock, would you mind making us some tea? And while you’re at it, maybe you can take a peek at what’s in the fridge. I got up too early for breakfast this morning and of course there was nothing on the plane.’

I was surprised he could treat his deputy so haughtily, but Whitlock was evidently used to it. She grimaced and went into the kitchen ahead of us. We followed, taking our places at the table.

‘Now, look, I’m going to come straight to the point,’ Torode began. ‘Quite frankly, I could use any help I can get with this one. I’ve been over to the crime scene and I can tell you, I don’t like the look of it. Tied to a chair with parcel tape and one hand left free. What the hell’s that all about?’

Hawthorne didn’t reply.

‘All right. It’s clear that we need to come to an arrangement, you and I. You work as a consultant now. Is that the right job description?’

‘It’ll do,’ Hawthorne said.