I couldn't face the rest of the evening alone in my own apartment, wrestling with Frank, the police, Lisa and Diane. So I went out to the Red Hat. Kieran was there with a couple of the boys. The beer, friendship and laughter helped.
I came home late, and a little drunk. The answering machine was winking. One message.
'Hi, Simon, it's John. It's about eight thirty. I think I've got something on BioOne you might find interesting. Can you come round to my place tomorrow evening, and we can talk about it? Say about eight? Give me a call. 'Bye.'
It was too late to call him back, so I tumbled into bed, and fell asleep.
24
I arrived at John's building in the South End at ten to eight, very curious about what he had to tell me about BioOne. I buzzed his apartment number at the entrance to the building, but there was no reply. I was a little early. He had said eight o'clock, and I had called his machine back earlier in the day to confirm I'd be there, so he shouldn't be long. I decided to wait for him on the street.
It was cold, and I cursed John under my breath. Pictures of Provence shone brightly out of the gallery next door. I tried to go in, but they were just locking up, and the woman inside shook her head at me. A couple of rain drops began to fall.
Then the door to John's building swung open, and a man came out. He was thin with close-cropped dyed blond hair. A diamond stud gleamed in his ear. I walked past him, attracting a suspicious glance, and climbed the stairs to John's apartment, to wait for him there. There were two doors leading off the hallway on the second floor. A crack of light seeped out of one of them into the dark hallway. It was John's, and it was ajar.
Wondering why he hadn't answered the buzzer, I pushed the door open.
'John?'
I walked in. 'John!'
He was lying face down on the floor in the middle of his living room, a blood-soaked hole high in his back.
'John!'
I rushed over to him. His face, always pale, was pressed against the floor, a pool of blood near his mouth. His eyes were open, staring dully at nothing.
Stupidly, I felt his neck for a pulse, desperately asking myself whether I should try mouth-to-mouth or CPR. There was no point. His neck was still warm, but he was very dead.
I couldn't take my eyes off the body. I felt weak. Time seemed to stand still as my brain struggled to take in what I was seeing. I dropped to my knees next to him, closed my eyes, and put my face in my hands. An image of that other body I had discovered only four weeks before leaped in front of me.
What a horrible way to die.
I heard a noise behind me, and spun round, fearful that perhaps the murderer had been in the apartment all along. A black woman in heels and a tight dress showing through her open coat stood in the doorway. She saw me, and screamed.
'He's dead,' I said. 'Call the police.'
She nodded and rushed from the apartment. I heard the door opposite slam shut.
I looked around the living room. There was no sign that anything was out of place. No gun, nothing tipped over or scattered on the floor. But John hadn't been dead for long. Perhaps the murderer was still in the apartment. I didn't want to hang around to find out; I knew he had a gun, and I didn't. Besides, I didn't want to disturb anything at the scene of the crime.
I left the apartment and rapped on the door opposite.
No reply.
I rapped harder.
'Yes?' The voice sounded scared.
She obviously wasn't going to open the door. 'It's me. The guy who found John. Have you called the police?'
'Yes! They'll be here in a moment!'
'Good,' I said, and hurried downstairs to wait for them outside the front of the building.
They were only a couple of minutes. A squad car with flashing lights pulled up, swiftly followed by another. I showed them up the stairs, and waited in the hallway while they checked the apartment, and crouched over John's body.
Over the next few minutes a stream of other people arrived. One of them, a detective named Sergeant Cole, asked me questions about how I'd found the body, and then asked me to wait in the tiny hallway of the building. A uniformed policeman stood next to me as I watched people tramp up and down the stairs.
After a while, Cole came down the stairs again. He was small, with a young face, but greying hair. He asked me to come to the station with him so he could take a full statement.
I agreed, and we drove off together in an unmarked car. Within a couple of minutes we reached a police station, and I was led to an interview room. Half an hour later, Cole joined me with another detective. They were both businesslike but friendly.
'Mr Ayot, do you mind answering a few questions?'
'Not at all,' I said.
Cole smiled. 'Good.' He reached for a card from his wallet and began to read from it in a hurried monotone. 'You have the absolute right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult with an attorney, and to have an attorney present both before and during questioning. If you cannot afford to hire an attorney, one will be appointed by the court, free of charge, to represent you before any questioning, if you wish. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand these rights I have just explained to you?'
This took me aback. 'Hey, you don't suspect me, do you?' I was angry. I'd had enough hassle from the police.
'You were seen right next to the body,' said Cole. 'We don't know what happened until you tell us. We just have to warn you before you talk to us, that's all.'
'But I can explain what happened,' I protested. 'I found him there.'
Cole raised his hand in a placating gesture. 'That's great. But before you do, I need you to tell me you understand what I just said to you.'
'I do,' I replied.
'And are you willing to talk to me now?'
I took a deep breath. I knew Gardner Phillips would advise me to say nothing. But I was sick of being the cops' favourite suspect. It seemed to me best to tell them what had really happened so they could leave me alone, and go and look for whoever had killed John.
'OK,' I said. 'Go ahead.'
Cole asked me once again to go through how I had entered the building, why I was there, how I had found the door of John's apartment open, whether I had noticed anything else in the apartment other than John's body. He took down details of my description of the man who had let me into the building. With a shiver, I realized this could have been John's murderer.
'What did you do after you found the body?' he asked.
'I left the apartment and knocked on the neighbour's door opposite, to check she'd called you. Then I went downstairs to wait for you.'
'Why did you do that?'
I looked at him blankly. 'I didn't want to disturb the scene of the crime.' Cole raised his eyebrows. And I could see John hadn't been dead long. If there was someone else with a gun in the apartment, I didn't want to be there.'
'So how long were you waiting outside?'
'Not very long. A couple of minutes, maybe.'
'I see.' Cole looked at me long and hard. 'Can you tell me how you knew Mr Chalfont?'
'We worked together. At a venture capital firm. Revere Partners.'
And you were going to meet him for what? A drink? Dinner?'
'No. He called me yesterday. He said he wanted to talk to me about something to do with work. He asked me to meet him at eight at his apartment. So that's what I did.'
Cole had caught something in what I had said. A slight hesitation, perhaps. 'Something to do with work? What exactly?'
I took a deep breath. This wasn't going the way I had hoped. But they would find out sooner or later, so I explained to Cole about Frank's murder, and John's phone call. Cole's interest was quickened. His colleague was scribbling furiously.
When I'd finished, Cole smiled. 'Thank you very much, Mr Ayot. We'll just type this up, and then you can sign it.'