Moran detected the smell of alcohol on Gibbs and asked if he’d been drinking on duty. Gibbs held his hands up and admitted that he’d had ‘a pint’ of lager at the golf club, purely to be social as the club secretary had offered him a drink.
Moran listened patiently as Gibbs went over the salient bits of his afternoon’s work, making it clear that Andrew Hastings was lying about his whereabouts on Friday evening and early Saturday morning. However, there was no evidence to prove this as yet.
‘Do you trust Jo Hastings?’ Moran asked.
Gibbs nodded. ‘Yes.’
Moran wasn’t convinced. ‘By her own admission, she didn’t like, or get on with, Sybil Hastings, and if she thinks her husband’s having an affair then maybe she’s embellished what was said in the hospital room to implicate Andrew as some form of payback.’
‘If you’re asking whether I think she’s lying, then my answer is no. I got the impression things aren’t good between her and her husband. Admittedly I don’t know them, but it’s glaringly obvious they’re like chalk and cheese — he’s an arrogant, self-opinionated, prick and she’s not,’ Gibbs replied.
‘That doesn’t make him a murderer.’
‘His mother’s death means that he inherits a shed-load of money. Although he already appears to live life in the fast lane, who’s to say his business isn’t going under and he needs more money?’
‘What does Jo Hastings make of Blake?’
‘Same as every woman: a perv with wandering hands. Blake lied to Jo Hastings at the hospital and to the major at the golf club.’
‘I’d think twice about making wild accusations against a senior officer, Gibbs. For all you know, Andrew Hastings could have been with another woman and Blake was covering for him. I know you’re not married, Spence, but you know full well blokes protect each other when it comes to affairs.’
Gibbs shook his head. ‘OK, so Blake may know who Hastings’ bit on the side is. He also knows that those close to a murder victim are considered suspects until the investigation proves otherwise. If everything’s as innocent as you’re suggesting, then why hasn’t he even told you in confidence that Hastings is out of line?’
‘If Blake doesn’t suspect Hastings of anything criminal, what’s there to bloody well tell me, Gibbs?’
‘My gut feeling tells me that Hastings could be our murderer and Blake is hiding something from us. They’re both Freemasons in the same bloody lodge—’
‘That doesn’t mean anything!’ Moran shouted, getting increasingly frustrated with Gibbs.
Gibbs wouldn’t let it go. ‘You know from personal experience that Freemasons protect each other. Hastings might even have something on Blake and is bribing him to lie. It’s also possible the unidentified victim could be Hastings’ mistress—’
‘For Christ’s sake, Spencer, you’re letting your imagination run wild! Or perhaps you had more than one pint at the golf club and can’t think straight. I can understand your suspicions about Andrew Hastings, but you are way out of line suggesting DCS Blake would lie for a murderer.’
Moran had never been a Freemason, nor did he want to be. However, he had been a prosecution witness in 1977 at the Old Bailey where many Met detectives stood trial for serious corruption. During the investigation it emerged that most of the accused officers were Freemasons, and it became referred to by the press as ‘A Firm within a Firm.’ Thirteen detectives were jailed, including two commanders, one chief superintendent and five inspectors. Moran also knew that some officers, who were Masons like Blake, were honest, hardworking and diligent detectives, but Blake’s lies about Andrew Hastings worried him.
Moran’s phone rang and he picked it up. ‘Yes!’ he barked. After listening for a moment, he started to look concerned. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I can’t just drop everything... But if you’re worried, call your mother... I’m going to be at work for some time, but I’ll get home as soon as possible... I promise...’ Moran replaced the receiver, paused, then lifted it off the hook and placed it on the table.
‘The wife giving you earache?’ Gibbs asked.
‘Yes. Apparently little Arthur, whom we’ve now started calling Art, has got croup. At first she thought it was wind, but apparently it’s a cough. You should be thankful you’re single. And don’t you dare suggest I take some time off and you take over the investigation!’
Gibbs was baffled by Moran’s remark. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Go and type up your report and liaise with Tennison so she can update you about her investigations.’ Moran waved his hand for Gibbs to leave.
‘By the way, did Blake tell you he was going to visit Hastings at the hospital?’
Moran looked annoyed. ‘Blake is our senior officer. He tells us what to do, not what he’s doing!’
‘He’s perverting the course of justice in a murder investigation.’
Moran shook his head in despair. ‘Do you always change the law to suit you, Gibbs? Blake hasn’t even been spoken to, or interviewed by us, so he’s done nothing that interferes with the investigation or perverts the course of fucking justice.’
‘Then you need to ask Blake why he’s lying about Andrew Hastings’ whereabouts on the night in question.’
Moran banged his hand on the desk. ‘Don’t tell me how to run a murder investigation, Gibbs! We don’t even know if both murders are connected. If you think Andrew Hastings is involved, then bring me some hard evidence, not hot air conjecture. I could argue that Jo Hastings has pulled the wool over your eyes. She clearly hated her mother-in-law and would gain from her death. Not to mention that she may well feel inclined to strangle any woman she discovered was having an affair with her husband.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Gibbs retorted.
Moran laughed and shook his head with disdain. ‘You’ve only just met her, you know nothing about her, and haven’t even bothered to confirm her movements for that Friday night. Blake has had an unblemished career and though he might be considered by many to be a perv, not one woman has ever made an official complaint against him.’
‘We both know that’s because he’s a senior officer and they’re frightened of losing their jobs.’
‘For Christ’s sake! Why have you and Tennison got it in for Blake? Let it go, or you’ll both be off this investigation. Do I make myself clear?’
Gibbs glowered, but said nothing.
‘I’ll take that as a yes, shall I? Go and write up your notes for the case file and concentrate on identifying the woman in the alleyway. And I don’t want you casting any aspersions about Blake to the team. Just keep what we discussed between us for now.’
In the CID office Gibbs found Jane sitting at her desk, checking the house-to-house folders. From the subdued look on her face he could see she was still upset and asked if she had a minute to have a chat. She followed Gibbs into his office and he shut the door behind her, sitting down at his desk.
‘Don’t let Moran get to you, Jane.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He told me he gave you a dressing-down about opening your mouth without thinking. If it’s any consolation, he’s just had a pop at me as well. He also noticed that I’d had a pint at the golf club — just to be social, of course.’
Jane raised her eyes at Gibbs. ‘You know Moran doesn’t like drinking on duty. And you smell like you’ve had more than one pint, Spence.’
‘Christ, don’t you start on me as well. Hang on, you’re wondering if I’m back on the bottle, aren’t you?’ Gibbs asked, looking directly into Jane’s eyes.
‘I’m just concerned, Spence. To be honest, you looked a bit hungover this morning at the Hastings flat.’