“Carole…”
“Gaby, what is it? You sound upset. Is your mother all right?”
“She’s fine. Mind you, she wouldn’t be if she’d heard the news that I’ve just heard.”
“What’s that?”
“The police have taken Phil in for questioning.”
Carole picked Gaby up at the Dauncey Hotel. Marie Martin was having an afternoon sleep, and her daughter felt safe to leave her for half an hour. She didn’t want to talk in the hotel, so Carole drove to a car park on a nearby beach. On the far side of the River Fether from Fethering itself were rambling dunes topped with coxcombs of rough, springy grass. At weekends, the car parks and the beach filled up, but that June afternoon there were only a few dog walkers and a couple of young parents with tiny offspring on the sand.
“Do you want to walk or just sit?”
Gaby opted for just sitting. They wound down the car’s windows. A slight breeze aerated the car with the smell of the sea, as Carole waited patiently for the girl to get her thoughts together and start talking.
“OK. I had a call from Inspector Pollard this morning. He just told me that ‘he thought we would like to know’ that my brother Philip Martin is currently ‘helping them with their enquiries’.”
“But he hasn’t been charged with anything?”
“No.”
“So did Inspector Pollard say what they were questioning him about?”
“In connection with your father’s death’.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a suspect.”
“I know it doesn’t.”
“You said yourself that Phil’s always going to be under suspicion if there’s a car theft in Harlow involved.”
“I know. But it’s unsettling.”
“Of course it is.”
“The fact that I can’t just ring Phil to find out what the hell’s going on. The fact that there’s yet another thing I have to keep secret from Mum.”
“But there was never any conflict between Phil and your father, was there? You always seemed to imply that they got on well.”
“Yes, they did – in a fairly silent sort of masculine way. You know, they’d go off and have a few beers together. There was maybe a bit of a rift when Phil got sent to prison, but I think Dad was more upset than angry.”
“What did Phil actually go to prison for? I never heard the details.”
“Nicking stuff. Cars, mostly. He was funding a drug habit.”
“And does he still use drugs?”
“Supposedly not. He’s meant to have turned over a new leaf since he started this new job in Hoddesdon?”
“You don’t sound very certain.”
“No, I’m not. He might have given up, he might still be a user – I don’t know. As you may have gathered, Phil and I don’t have an enormous amount in common.”
“No. Were you close when you were growing up?”
“Not really. I suppose I liked girlie things. He liked cars and guns and football, you know, boys’ toys. And, well…” Gaby hesitated for a moment before saying, “It wasn’t really a very relaxed atmosphere to grow up in.”
Carole wasn’t sure whether or not she should askthe question, but she did anyway. “You mean there were tensions between your parents?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
“But when I’ve met them, they’ve seemed devoted to each other.”
“Yes, they are devoted to each other, but…” Gaby seemed to backtrack, feeling she’d probably said too much already. “Anyway, Phil and I have never been exactly soulmates. Very different personalities, and, increasingly, very different interests and lifestyles.”
“Yes.” Carole thought of Gaby’s life as a theatrical agent, spending most of her evenings watching clients or potential clients strutting their stuff on various stages round the countryside. She somehow couldn’t imagine that Phil had ever been to a theatre.
“But, thinking back to your childhood, which is often when patterns of behaviour are established, can you think of any incident where Phil and your father fell out? Anything he might have had against your father?”
“For heaven’s sake.”
“You’re not suggesting Phil killed him, are you?”
“No,” said Carole, with more conviction than she felt. “I’m just trying to cover all the possibilities.”
“Well, that’s not one of them.”
“Right.” She felt she should be apologizing, but couldn’t think of the right words, and so moved on. “You don’t suppose the police might be thinking that it was Phil in the car that drove your father away from the hotel?”
“If they are thinking that, they’re wrong. Phil was still at the party when Dad left. He went off later on his precious motorbike. I remember, because I asked whether he was in a fit state to drive back to Hoddesdon. As usual, Phil didn’t listen to me.”
“Though in fact he didn’t go back to Hoddesdon, did he? I heard he’d spent that night in Harlow.”
“That’s right. Drank a lot more and crashed out on a friend’s floor. So hungover the next morning he didn’t go into work.”
“Any idea who that friend might have been?”
Gaby shrugged. “Could have been any one of a number. There’s a crowd Phil goes around with. They’ve all got bikes, and are all probably a bit on the shady side of the law. The one he’s most likely to have crashed out on is a guy called Bazza. Small-time crook, nicknamed ‘Teflon Bazza’.” Carole looked quizzical, so Gaby explained, “So called because he seems to lead a charmed life. Nothing sticks. Keeps getting nicked for stuff, but so far has managed to stay out of prison. Had a really rotten childhood and people feel sorry for him. Magistrates keep letting him off lightly, in the hope that he’ll reform and become a useful member of society.”
Gaby’s tone showed how unlikely she thought that ever was to happen. Carole, whose experiences in the Home Office had brought home to her both the necessity of prison as a punishment and its uselessness in changing criminal patterns of behaviour, was also sceptical.
“But you don’t know for certain that Phil was with Bazza that night?”
“I’m guessing, but I think it seems likely.”
“Hr.” Carole digested the new information. It wasn’t a lot. “Oh, have you heard from Stephen again. Is he going to come down this weekend?”
“He’s hoping to. Thinks Sunday looks pretty good, and with a bit of luck he’ll be here for both days. But Uncle Robert’s definitely coming. He’s booked in for Saturday night at the Dauncey.”
“That’s good. It’ll take the pressure off you a bit with your mother.”
“Sure. And Mum really responds to Robert. She always perks up when he’s around. I’ve been trying to ring him today, to see if he can get any information on what’s happening to Phil – you know, through the police old boy network – but he hasn’t rung me back yet.”
“I really wouldn’t worry about Phil, Gaby. He can’t have had anything to do with your father’s death.”
“No.” But her voice didn’t ring with conviction.
“I’m afraid he’s just suffering from ingrained prejudice.”
“How do you mean?”
“There’s a knee-jerk reaction, I’m afraid, in certain areas of the police force. If a crime’s committed, they go straight to the nearest person with a criminal record.”
“Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
Suddenly, to her surprise, Carole found that Gaby was sobbing. Instinctively – though uncharacteristically – she put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s all right. You’ve been under a lot of stress.”
“I know. I was just thinking about the wedding – and Dad’s death – and the fact that he won’t be there.”
“It’s dreadful, but” – Carole searched her mind for something comforting to say – “you’ll just have to imagine that the day is dedicated to his memory.”