‘I’m working through,’ said Tim Dyer, and pointed to a pile of washing-up powder boxes. These had also had coupons removed and powder spilled through the rectangular holes to make little peaks on the carpet. ‘Working through this lot, too. Good, though. Won a BMX bicycle on that. Sold it.’
‘How did you win the Vauxhall Cavalier?’ asked Sydnee, who had been silent for a long time.
Tim Dyer looked at her sharply, realizing that the conversation had come round to something important. ‘Let’s go into the front room.’
When they were sitting, Sydnee persisted, ‘Where did you win the Cavalier?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘I see. Another television show.’
For a moment he looked as if he were about to deny it, but a slow, smug smile crept across his face. ‘Yes. Right. Something For Nothing I won that on.’
‘You’ve done a lot of other tellies.’
He nodded slyly. ‘Oh yes. I’ve done most of them.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Sydnee, remembering something. ‘How did you get on Something For Nothing? That’s a show for married couples.’
‘Yes.’
‘But you said you’re divorced.’
‘I persuaded the wife to come back just for the show.’
‘And you got the car.’
‘Oh, come on. She got the fridge-freezer, the home computer with full range of software, the exercise bicycle plus His and Hers track-suits, the cordless telephone and the crate of vintage champagne.’
‘You still got the best of the deal.’
‘Well, I did the research, didn’t I? And I answered all the questions.’
‘Erm. .’ Charles asked out of pure curiosity, ‘did appearing on the show together bring you and your wife back together at all?’
‘Good God, no.’ Tim Dyer dismissed that idea and moved on to a subject that interested him more. ‘Now, about this Austin Metro. .’
‘Yes,’ said Sydnee, mentally girding up her loins for battle.
‘I’ve taken legal advice on this, and my solicitor says it depends on whether the crown was definitely over my head when it stopped. Now I know it was, and that would be visible on the recording of the show that you have. If W.E.T. tries to withhold that tape, my solicitor says he would be able to — ’
‘We have also taken legal advice,’ Sydnee quelled him.
‘Our Legal Department has no precedent for this situation, but their view is that the rules of the game constitute a kind of verbal contract. In other words, W.E.T. has agreed to give away certain goods to contestants who fulfil the requirements demanded by the game.’
‘Exactly.’ Tim Dyer grinned hungrily. ‘Which I had done.’
‘However,’ Sydnee continued, ‘it is their view that this situation only lasts as long as the game continues, and they feel that the game cannot be said to continue after the death of the host.’
‘What!’ He was furious. ‘But that’s just cheating. Anyway, the crown had stopped over my head before he died.’
She shook her head. ‘We’ve checked the tape. Barrett Doran definitely stopped moving before the wheel of hats did.’
‘I don’t believe it. I demand to see the tape!’
‘You’re welcome to do so. Your solicitor is also welcome to do so. It won’t change anything. The Austin Metro remains the property of West End Television.’
Tim Dyer let out a terrible howl of frustrated materialism. ‘Cheats! You’re just all cheats! I won that fair and square, and now you’re saying I didn’t! I’ll fight it! I’ll sue you! I’ll get that car!’
‘Try, by all means,’ said Sydnee equably, ‘but let me warn you, you’re going into a very vague area of the law, and, as a general rule, the vaguer the area, the more expensive the law becomes.’
Tim Dyer was silent, his mouth ugly with disappointment. He looked as if he had been winded by a blow to some vital part of his anatomy. And that was not far from the truth. He had just received a serious blow to his greed.
Charles judged it a good moment to move on to the real subject of their visit. ‘You didn’t like Barrett Doran, did you?’
Tim Dyer looked surprised at this change of direction, but was still too much in shock to do anything but tell the truth. ‘No, I didn’t. So?’
‘Why did you dislike him? You’d only met him that afternoon, hadn’t you?’
‘Oh yes. But it doesn’t take long to get the measure of someone like that.’ A glint of paranoia came into Dyer’s eye, as he said, ‘He was out to stop me winning.’
‘What?’
‘Oh yes. That bastard was out to nobble me from the moment we were introduced. He saw that I was the most likely contestant to win, and he was out to stop me.’
‘I don’t think he was bothered with — ’
‘Oh, come on. Didn’t you see the way he paired me off with that subnormal actress? It was quite deliberate. He was out to sabotage my chances.’ The paranoia gave way to satisfaction. ‘But I showed the bastard. I still won, didn’t I?’ The paranoia quickly reasserted itself. ‘Or I would have won if I hadn’t been cheated of my car!’
‘Listen. .’ Sydnee began, but, on a signal from Charles, she stopped.
‘What did you do during the meal-break?’ the actor asked suddenly.
Again he had judged it right. Tim was too surprised by the sudden demand to question why it should be asked. ‘Well, I. . er. . what do you mean?’
‘You were in the Conference Room with Chita and the other contestants. You and Trish Osborne left there about quarter past six, and didn’t get back till twenty to seven. You said you were going down to the canteen, but neither of you did. What were you doing?’
‘Well, I wasn’t with her, if that’s what you were thinking,’ Tim replied truculently. ‘If she was getting off with anyone, it wasn’t me. We only left the room together. We got in different lifts.’
‘Both going down?’
‘I think so. Mine was, certainly.’
‘Which floor did you get off at?’
‘I. . Look, what is this? Why are you giving me the third degree in my own home? Who the hell do you think you are?’
‘Someone’s been murdered,’ Charles announced with all the chilling authority he had used in Witness For The Prosecution (‘Profoundly unmoving’ — Plays and Players).
‘And someone’s been charged with the murder.’
‘Yes. We happen to believe that the police have got the wrong culprit. Which is why we are checking what everyone was doing during the meal-break.’ By now he had slipped into the voice he had used as a Detective-Inspector (shortly to be killed) in a Softly, Softly (‘A rather routine episode in this generally excellent series’ — New Statesman). ‘So tell me exactly what you did when you left the Conference Room.’
The Detective-Inspector manner had its effect. Tim Dyer spoke unwillingly, but at least he spoke. ‘I went down to the floor where the studios are. I just wanted to have a look round. I was nervous, you know, wanted to get on the set, get the feel of it. I thought it’d calm me down.’
‘And, once in the studio, what did you do?’
‘I. . well, I just looked round. You know, round the back.’
‘You looked at the displays of prizes?’
‘All right. So what if I did? I needed to psych myself up for the show. I needed to sort of get the adrenaline going.’
‘So you went and gazed at the Austin Metro?’
‘Yes,’ the contestant admitted sheepishly.
‘And that’s all you did?’
‘Yes.’ But Tim Dyer would not look into his interrogator’s eyes as he spoke.
‘You were out of the Conference Room for twenty-five minutes. Sounds like a long time to look at a car.’
‘Well, I didn’t go into the studio straight away.’
‘What, not immediately after you left the lift?’
‘No. I was going in there, but I saw one of the celebrities coming along the corridor and I didn’t feel like chatting, so I turned into one of the phone booths along there till he’d gone past.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Bob Garston.’
‘And he was coming from Studio A?’