Carole continued with her risk strategy. She didn’t see that it could lose her anything. “You didn’t think anyone could see you, because you had your baseball cap pulled down over your eyes.”
This did seem to catch him on the hop. There was a definite pause before he said, “Nah, you’re making it up. Nobody could have seen me at the hotel, because I wasn’t there.”
“My ex-husband was there. He saw you.” Time for the big lie. “You exactly match the description he gave me.”
The boy looked really worried now. “Has he – your ex-husband – has he talked to the cops?”
Carole didn’t know that for a fact, but it didn’t stop her saying, “Oh yes.”
Bazza’s eyes darted to the Crown and Anchor’s main entrance, then back to the remaining third of his drink. He wanted to get out, but not before he’d finished his Stella.
Jude took over the interrogation. “Do you know someone called Michael Brewer?”
The instinctive flick of the head appeared genuine enough. “Never heard of him. Why should I?”
“It’s possible that he was the one who organized that car from the hotel.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Like I said, I only do that kind of job for mates.”
It took a second for Bazza to realize the implications of what he’d said. When he did, he rose to his feet, downing the last of his drink.
“And Phil’s your mate,” Jude persisted. “Are you saying that Phil asked you to organize that car to drive his father?”
“Mind your own bloody business, you nosy cows!” he snapped, as he stumped out of the pub. It wasn’t much of a parting shot, but it caused a little ripple of reaction among the other Saturday night customers. Behind his bar, Ted Crisp smiled with grim satisfaction. He didn’t want any bikers in the Crown and Anchor.
Twenty
When she got back from taking Gulliver for his walk on Fethering Beach the next morning, Carole was surprised to see her son’s BMW parked outside High Tor. Stephen had his own key, and was sitting in the kitchen waiting for her. He came into the hall when she opened the front door.
“What’s up, Stephen?” she asked, as she used a towel to brush the sand off Gulliver’s paws. “Is Gaby all right?”
“She’s fine. Well, she’s OK, anyway. No, it’s her brother I’m worried about.”
Carole closed the door and followed Gulliver through into the kitchen. “Why? Where is he?” Without asking, she started preparing coffee.
“That’s what we don’t know. After we’d left you in the pub, we went over to the Dauncey Hotel and booked a room for him. He was a bit iffy about that, until I said I’d pay. Then Gaby and Robert and I had a drink in the bar, while Phil went up to talk to his mother. Marie had been feeling tired, so she’d gone up to bed early.
“Gaby and I were tired too, so we were off to bed after one drink with Robert. Gaby just dropped into her mother’s room to say goodnight, and found Marie in a terrible state. Apparently, she and Phil had had some kind of row, and he’d stormed out. He wasn’t in his room or anywhere else in the hotel. Robert reckoned he’d have just gone off to the nearest pub, and went out to look for him. But I saw Robert at breakfast, and he hadn’t found him. Nobody’s seen Phil since he left his mother’s room.”
“He might just have leapt on his beloved bike and driven back home to Hoddesdon.”
“He might. But there’s no reply from there. Or from his mobile.”
“Oh, come on, it’s still pretty early on a Sunday morning, Stephen. We know Phil has a habit of going on overnight benders. He’s probably passed out in some pub car park somewhere.”
“Yes, maybe.” Her son sighed. “Sorry to bother you with this. It’s just that Gaby’s worried. She’s in such a highly strung state at the moment.”
“Who can blame her?”
“Anyway, Gaby was thinking that, wherever Phil is, he’s probably with his chum Bazza, so she was wondering when you last saw him?”
Briefly Carole detailed the timing of Bazza’s departure from the Crown and Anchor the previous night. “And he did have a call on his mobile while he was there. Said he was going to call back. Maybe that was Phil fixing up to meet?”
“Maybe.” Stephen took an almost despairing sip from his coffee.
“You are all right, are you?” Carole dared to ask. “I mean, you and Gaby?”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. It’s just…well, I don’t need to tell you, Mum, this is all very stressful, particularly for Gaby. All she wants to do is to get back to the work she loves and to plan her wedding, and yet the chances of her doing that just seem to get more and more remote. Every time she thinks she can relax, something else happens to tighten up the screw of tension. I mean, Marie seems to be in a worse state than ever after her row with Phil.”
“Did you discover what that was about?”
Stephen shook his head. “Impossible to get that kind of stuff out of Marie, even when she’s in her normal state. Now she’s totally illogical.”
“Hm. Robert seems to be the only vaguely normal member of that family.” As soon as she’d spoken she realized her tactlessness. “Except for Gaby, of course, when she’s not so stressed.”
Her son smiled bleakly.
“By the way, Jude and I talked to Bazza last night.”
“That must have been an interesting conversation. I’m sure Oscar Wilde wished he could have been there, taking notes.”
“Don’t you believe it, Stephen. Bazza’s not as inarticulate as he might appear. Has some very interesting views on the definition of criminal activity.”
“Oh?”
“The main one being that if he does something, then by definition it’s not a crime.”
“Ah.”
“But, more importantly, I got the pretty firm impression that Bazza was involved in arranging the car for Howard Martin that night.”
“Really?” Stephen was shocked.
“Yes. Can’t prove it, but he virtually admitted as much.”
“No wonder Inspector Pollard’s keen to talk to him.”
“I wonder where he’s been lying low the last few days? Phil clearly had no difficulty contacting him.”
“No. I’ll give Pollard a call. He should be informed that Bazza’s down here.”
“I agree.”
“Mum, you said you thought Bazza arranged the car for Howard, but you don’t think he’s the murderer?”
“No. Murder’s way out of his league. Someone else asked him to arrange the car.”
“Who?”
“Bazza said he only did that kind of work for his mates.”
Stephen sighed wearily. “Things aren’t looking too good for Phil’s innocence, are they?”
Jude sounded excited when she summoned Carole round to Woodside Cottage later that morning, but Gita Millington looked even more excited. She was bouncing and bubbling with energy. Her clothes were not as formal as the black trouser suit, but still very smart casual. The make-up was perfectly in place, and again she looked the epitome of the successful career woman.
As soon as Carole was sat down with a pre-lunch Chardonnay, Gita launched into her routine. “Jude’s probably told you that I went to London last night. In fact, I stayed the night in my flat.” Carole was not aware of what an achievement that represented. “And Jude probably told you that I had dinner with a friend. What she didn’t tell you – because she didn’t know – was that in fact the friend I had dinner with was a solicitor called Jerome Clancy.”
“Oh.”
“I know him,” said Carole, with some surprise. “Really?”
“I used to have quite a lot of dealings with him when I worked at the Home Office. Big on human rights issues, prison reform, that kind of stuff.”