But the tall man with the intense grey eyes didn’t seem to think it out of place. He said with a little smile, ‘We operate a similar system with ranks in the CID team, Mr Davies. Detective chief superintendent is a mouthful which gets in the way of things. And I don’t like being continually “sirred”. But someone didn’t like Martin Beaumont. Someone either hated him enough or found him obstructive enough to kill him in cold blood. Who do you think might have done that?’
The challenge was very abrupt, after the pleasantries which had preceded it. Gerry wondered whether those had been a deliberate tactic to soften him up. He must stick to his plans, whatever form of attack they used. ‘I’ve thought about that a lot since we got the news on Friday, but I haven’t come up with anything. Some of us had our differences with Martin, but I can’t think that anyone would have killed him. I think it must be someone from outside.’
The familiar, entirely understandable, plea from those who had worked close to a murder victim. ‘We’ve considered that, Mr Davies. We haven’t ruled it out completely, but we now think it very unlikely. I think you should enlarge on these “differences” which people had with Mr Beaumont.’
He was on dangerous ground, but he mustn’t show them that he felt that. ‘It was nothing very serious. Martin operated very much as a one-man business. It was understandable, because he’d built the firm up from very small beginnings. And I must say that it suited me. I was very happy to have my own job clearly defined for me and to consult Martin whenever I felt there was a big decision to be made. I didn’t want to stray outside my limits. For me, his methods worked very well.’
‘But not for everyone. We need every detail of this that you can give us, Mr Davies: this is a murder enquiry.’
Gerry felt his pulses racing, though he told himself that he had known all along that this moment would come. He tried not to remember how Bronwen always found him transparent if ever he tried to lie to her; this was far more important than any little domestic deceit. He delivered the words he had prepared for this moment. ‘I’m the oldest of the senior staff at Abbey Vineyards. I was grateful to Martin for giving me my chance in a senior post. I expect that has continued to influence me even many years later. The other executives are younger. They are all better educated than I am and most of them have a broader work experience, despite my age. I can’t speak for all of them, but I think some of them chafed a little at the system Martin had always used and was continuing to operate. They felt that now that the business was large and prosperous, they wanted rather more say in policy decisions than he was prepared to allow them.’
He’d got it all out without interruption. He wondered how it sounded to them. Lambert was watching him keenly. For a moment which seemed to Gerry to stretch agonizingly, he did not speak. Then he said quietly, ‘You must see that in these circumstances we must have the names of these people who were not content.’
‘I know nothing definite. It’s just a feeling I’ve picked up from things said.’ Gerry knew he had spoken too quickly, almost anticipating Lambert’s instruction, instead of being surprised by it. ‘At our company meeting in March — that involved just the five senior staff and Martin — there were various suggestions about how we should develop things, where we should go from here. Martin took them on board, but made it very clear that it would be he and not any of us who made the final decisions. That was fine as far as I was concerned; it’s worked well in the past and I couldn’t see any reason why we shouldn’t carry on a successful system. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, as they say.’
‘But other people weren’t happy to leave it at that?’
Gerry Davies looked and felt uncomfortable as he was pressed. ‘I don’t really know. They may not have been happy with the system, but I’ve no evidence that they did anything about it. Only Martin would know that.’
‘I see. And we can’t ask him, can we?’
Gerry found himself shifting on his seat, feeling those all-seeing grey eyes much too close to him across the table. ‘No. You’ll need to ask the individuals concerned about it.’
‘At the moment, I’m asking you, Mr Davies. Are you quite sure there’s nothing else you can recall on the matter?’
‘Yes. If you think it’s important, you’ll need to pursue it with the others.’
Without taking his eyes off his quarry’s face, Lambert gave the slightest of nods to his detective sergeant. Hook made a play of consulting his notes. ‘A week ago today, only two days before he died, Mr Beaumont conducted a meeting with you and Jason Knight, his head chef. What was that meeting about?’
Gerry Davies was shocked and he failed to conceal it. Perhaps he should have anticipated that they would know of the meeting, but he hadn’t done that. He stumbled into inadequate phrases. ‘I can’t remember much about it now. It was nothing very important. That’s why I didn’t mention it.’
Hook smiled an understanding smile, a smile which said that he sympathized, but Gerry had been caught out, that he had much better cut his losses now and be honest. ‘This is barely a week ago, Mr Davies. Fiona Cooper, Mr Beaumont’s PA, took us through his diary of appointments in the weeks before his death. She remembers voices being raised behind the door of her boss’s office. Mrs Cooper thought the meeting was important. Mr Beaumont arranged it, she said, and he certainly thought it was important.’
Hook had picked up Davies’s word ‘important’ and repeated it, until it seemed in Gerry’s ears to have now an ironic, mocking ring. He had a thoroughly miserable air as he said, ‘Martin seemed to think we had been stirring up trouble, trying to undermine him. He was wrong about that and we told him so.’
‘And did he accept what you said?’
Gerry looked at the table. ‘Yes, I think so. It was all a misunderstanding, really.’
Lambert, who had continued to watch him intently through this interlude with Hook, said sternly, ‘All arguments which take place days before a man is killed have to be of interest to us. You must see that, Mr Davies.’
‘Yes, I do. You’re blowing this out of proportion, though.’
‘Are we, indeed? Well, maybe Mr Knight will prove to have a clearer memory of the exchanges than you have managed to retain. I do hope so.’
Hook said in his more informal, persuasive way, ‘One of the things we have learned about Mr Beaumont in the days since his death is that he had an eye for the ladies. More than an eye, in fact. When passions are aroused, violence is rarely far away, in our experience. No doubt having worked with him for thirteen years and got to know him very well, you will be able to tell us more about this.’
Gerry was confused now. As a naturally honest man, he felt thoroughly ragged after the questioning about last Tuesday’s meeting. He could not think straight, could think only of Sarah Vaughan weeping on his chest in her distress over Beaumont’s attentions. They’d interviewed her in her office at the vineyard this morning. What had she told them about this? He couldn’t afford to be tripped up again, or they wouldn’t believe another word he said. ‘I don’t know any of the details of Martin’s love life. You’ll need to ask Sarah herself about this.’
He shouldn’t have used that word ‘herself’. It was, in some way he couldn’t immediately grasp, a complete giveaway. Hook was studiously low-key as he said, ‘Beaumont was conducting a relationship with Miss Vaughan, was he?’
‘Not a relationship. You’ll need to ask her, won’t you? And Miss North, of course. Vanda used to be his mistress, you know.’
‘Yes, we do know, Mr Davies. And we shall be seeing both these ladies again. Is there anything you think we should ask them?’
‘No. I wasn’t interested in Martin’s love life.’ He looked desperately around the room with its array of rugby photographs, then at the door which concealed Bronwen and the rest of his orderly house, as if he hoped that the happy rectitude of his own life could convince them of his ignorance about the restless lechery of Beaumont. ‘He was a good employer to me and I shall remember that.’