Gun Street Girl (15 page)

The roof was flat with a thigh-high brick-built wall round the edge. The wall had an additional safety fence of wire mesh supported by metal brackets sunk into the brick. Dead chimneys broke the smoothness of the metalled roof and someone had made a roof garden with a pair of rose-covered archways, ceramic pots, hanging baskets full of beautiful gardenias on the hut and the sides of the chimneys, and boxes full of flowers on trestle tables. There was even a postage stamp of a lawn. The roof was a mixture of light and shadow and I trod lightly as I went over to the back of the house where the mesh was broken and hung down like a veil. There were several spilled plant pots and, in case of footprints, I avoided disturbing the earth and looked carefully over the parapet. I swallowed as I saw Leee's body still half in and half out of the conservatory roof and I wondered why the hell no one had got it down.

I heard sirens from the street and walked back and peered over the ledge at the front of the house just in time to see the tops of an ambulance, a squad car and a panda arrive together with blue lights flashing. They sprawled over the blacktop beneath me like toys and the traffic in Curzon Street started to jam up behind them in both directions. Doors opened and slammed and boots clattered on the pavement as the foreshortened uniformed figures pounded towards the front door. I holstered the gun and went back to the door at the top of the stairs.

Catherine was standing at the bottom of the flight. She was shaking and her right hand was fisted and rubbing into the palm of her left as if she was trying to wear off the skin. I had no time to be pleasant. ‘What the fuck is going on, Catherine? Why was Leee in your dress?' I looked at her and corrected myself. ‘A dress like yours. What were you up to?'

‘It was a joke, a bit of fun. We used to do it when we went out sometimes. Leee loved dressing in women's clothes. He's my size. He used to borrow clothes from me. Tonight we thought we'd make an entrance. Just for a joke.'

And then she cracked, like a nutshell. Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed and began to hit herself with her right hand, still doubled into a fist. She got a couple of good whacks in before I caught her wrist and grabbed her into my arms. I held her so tightly she couldn't move. She struggled, then went as stiff as an ironing board. Finally she let herself go and I had to hold her upright.

I heard footsteps along the corridor and a uniformed police sergeant and constable came round the corner at a brisk gallop. They skidded to a halt and looked at me over Catherine's shoulder. ‘Good evening, sir,' said the sergeant. ‘Anything I can do to help?'

‘You can stand by this door and not let anyone go up who shouldn't. I think someone was pushed off the top a few minutes ago.'

Catherine sobbed again.

‘This is Miss Catherine Pike,' I went on. ‘Her late father owned this house. My name is Sharman, I'm her bodyguard. I'm going to take her to her room. Your superior officers will need to talk to her and I'd like her to have a few minutes to calm down. The man who fell was a friend of hers.'

‘Man?' said the sergeant. ‘It looked like a woman.'

‘Look closely, Sergeant.' I began to lead Catherine away.

‘Just a minute, sir.'

I turned. ‘Yes?'

‘The constable will accompany you. Just to be on the safe side.'

‘Of course,' I said.

‘Go with them, Webb, and be polite,' said the sergeant.

‘Yes, Sarge,' said the uniformed constable.

We took Catherine to her room and when she was sitting down quietly, I said to the uniform, ‘I won't be a minute.'

‘Now, sir, you'll have to stay here … '

I turned and walked out. I heard the copper call me back but I kept going to the top of the main stairs. The lift was gone. I looked down and it was sitting on the ground floor.

Within ten minutes the police were all over the place like a big blue security blanket.

I was put into a room in the basement next to the kitchen with only a PC for company for forty minutes, while the scene of crime officers checked the body and the roof. Then I was taken into the dining room for a little chat.

There were two coppers in the room. One very young, one much older. I didn't know them. They knew me, or at least about me. I could tell by the way they examined me like an exhibit under glass.

‘Sit down, Mr Sharman,' said the older of the two, who was sitting at the head of the dining table. He was between fifty and fifty-five, a typical career detective. Hard as nails, and twice as prickly. He had a sharp, lined face with deep-set blue eyes that had seen everything rotten the world had to show, several times over. His hair was grey and thin and needed a cut badly. He wore a zippered, many-pocketed jacket that looked as if it came from
House of Nylon
, and slacks and shoes from Burton's. On the polished table in front of him was an ashtray with a cold pipe lying in it, a packet of Dutch rolling tobacco, a lined shorthand pad and a pencil with a chewed end. He indicated a chair next to him.

‘I'm Sutherland,' he said. ‘That's Endesleigh.' He didn't mention rank. I took him for an inspector at least. The other copper looked no older than eighteen with a swoop of blond hair that kept falling into his eyes. I imagined he was a D/C on his first biggie. He was dressed in a sharp grey worsted suit with no bagginess at the knees or shininess on the elbows. He was standing at the window looking through a gap in the curtains and turned at the sound of his name. He gave me the once-over and grunted. When he'd seen all he wanted to see, he turned back.

I said nothing.

The silence stretched as Sutherland studied me and Endesleigh studied the outside world.

The older man broke the silence. He was icily polite. As far as he was concerned the formalities were over. Niceties never came into it. ‘Tell us what you know about what happened here tonight,' he said.

‘About as much as you, I imagine,' I said. ‘Next to nothing.'

He looked over at the young policeman again, then back to me.

‘Tell me anyway,' he said.

I told him, right from the beginning. I left out the bits about the death threats, although by then I was sure they existed in some shape or form. I'd save them for later. I told him everything else. It didn't take long.

After I'd finished he sat back in his chair and played with the pencil. He thought for a minute or two then leaned forward and spoke. ‘When you took this job on, did you believe that either of the Misses Pikes' lives were in danger?'

‘No.'

‘So why take the job?'

‘I needed the money.'

‘That was all?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you thought there was nothing to it?'

I shrugged. ‘I just thought that Elizabeth was neurotic, her or Catherine, or both, and rich enough to pander to any neuroses they had.'

‘But you came prepared.'

‘Sorry?' I said.

The younger policeman turned away from the window and came over and put my .357 Magnum on the table in front of me. He'd been holding it, hidden from me all the time. It was still in its holster but I imagined that someone had unloaded it. I had known that if anyone good went through the room they'd find it. These guys were good, it was their job. The younger man was careful not to scratch the lustre of the table. That was his job too.

Sutherland shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘You're in trouble,' he said. ‘I think we should lock you up.' The Browning on my ankle felt as big as a tree stump. He was right, I was in trouble.

‘Aren't we being a bit hasty?' asked Endesleigh. Sutherland and I both looked at him.

‘What do you mean?' asked Sutherland. As if he didn't know and they hadn't worked this little sketch out while I was cooling my heels in the basement.

‘Mr Sharman's in trouble, as you rightly say,' said Endesleigh. ‘But he could help us and get himself out of trouble.'

‘Help us? How? He's nothing, a fucking dog-washer,' said Sutherland.

Endesleigh looked pained. ‘Aren't you being a bit hard on him? He used to be in the job. He knows what we want to know and the people here seem to trust him.'

‘Trust him!' said Sutherland. ‘I wouldn't trust him to tell me the right time.'

‘What have we got to lose? We've got the gun and we can bang him up any time.'

Put like that, it made sense, but Sutherland made a show of holding his brow like it was a big decision. I knew it was a foregone conclusion. They'd got me by the nuts and we all knew it.

‘Okay,' said Sutherland at length. ‘But it's on your head and your responsibility.'

Neatly done, I thought. Divide the opposition and give me a mate to spill my heart out to. A bit of psychology never hurt anyone.

‘Right, Mr Sharman,' said Sutherland. ‘We're going to give you a break, but remember you'd better be a good boy or we'll have you round the nick before your feet touch the ground, understand?'

I understood all right. I nodded and the atmosphere in the room relaxed a little, but only a little.

Endesleigh played good cop. He sighed like a man being kept from a comfortable bed. ‘Unpleasant business, this,' he said.

‘Tell that to Leee,' I said.

‘Clive,' said Sutherland.

‘What?'

‘Clive Simpson was his name,' he explained. ‘Clive Simpson from Honor Oak. That's the name on his birth certificate. The local boys have been to see his mother.'

‘You were quick.'

‘Sometimes, Mr Sharman, sometimes. His flatmate was at home and we got his mother's address. Changed his name by deed poll to Leee Monroe. Apparently Marilyn Monroe was his favourite film star.'

‘It's a free country,' I said.

‘I'm not disputing that. Bit of a funny boy, wouldn't you say? You knowing him and all.'

‘I met him twice,' I said.

‘But you had his card in your drawer upstairs.'

They had been thorough.

‘He gave it to me when we met for the first time the night before last. Lots of people give me their cards.'

‘I'm sure they do. But it's a coincidence that he gave you his two days ago, and now he's dead, wouldn't you say? Fancied a new hairstyle, did you? Or was he your dope dealer? We found all sorts in his handbag. Coke, dope, uppers, sleepers.'

‘Neither. He knew a lot about this family. I was going to pick his brains.'

‘They're all over the conservatory floor,' said Sutherland. ‘Pick away.'

‘Not funny. He was all right.'

‘So who killed him?' asked Endesleigh.

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘Someone who thought that Leee was Catherine, I suppose.'

‘Did you know about all this dressing up business?' asked Endesleigh.

‘No.'

‘Catherine Pike kept you right in the picture then?' said Sutherland.

‘It's hardly something you drop casually into the conversation. It was a joke, a gag.'

Endesleigh looked at me. ‘It went wrong, didn't it?'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘Especially for Leee.'

‘It could have been suicide,' said Sutherland.

‘You don't commit suicide when you're getting a flower for your hair,' I said, ‘and if you've spent all evening getting tarted up like a dog's breakfast, and you're looking to make a big entrance like he was. I don't see you suddenly getting a fatal attack of the guilts about your life style or not being able to pay the gas bill and knocking down all that safety mesh and doing the big jump.'

‘I wouldn't know about that,' said Sutherland. ‘Must be funny,' he went on, ‘strapping your bollocks up like that. They pull them right tight up their arseholes, apparently.'

‘And you would know about that.'

‘Don't be fucking clever, Sharman,' Sutherland growled. ‘Let's go through it all again, now you're on our side, so to speak. And I warn you, if I find out you're holding anything back I'll process you myself and enjoy every minute of it.'

I think he meant it too. I loosened my tie. ‘I don't know much,' I said. ‘Just what I've been told, really. I've only been here for a couple of days.'

‘Then tell us what you do know,' said Sutherland.

I went through the whole story again. I still didn't tell them about the death threats. I wanted to speak to Elizabeth and Catherine first.

‘So the old man's dead, and the will's up in the air, and the future of the whole company is in jeopardy. And we're not talking about a corner shop here,' said Sutherland. ‘And then some silly little poof, all dressed up like the girl who's caused all the fuss, is killed, murdered. Very confusing.'

I couldn't have agreed more.

‘And who's right in the middle of it,' he went on, ‘but you, Sharman. And from what I know, where you go, trouble follows.'

‘Just trying to earn a crust, guv.'

He looked around the dining room, and by so doing took in the whole house. ‘You'll get more than a crust here,' he said. ‘So Mister ex-detective constable, what do you think?'

‘It was a suicide?' I said. ‘Robert Pike's, I mean. There's no doubt about that, is there?'

Sutherland looked at Endesleigh. Endesleigh looked back and said, ‘As far as we know. Open and shut, as the saying goes.'

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘Give me a chance to find out. Have you spoken to anyone else tonight?'

‘We've had words with a few people, including Elizabeth Pike, and we're off to see the other one after we've finished with you.'

‘Don't leave it too late.'

‘We've got all night.'

‘She hasn't, she's had a nasty shock.'

‘Not as nasty as Simpson had.'

You couldn't argue with that. ‘I suppose with all this,' it was my turn to look round the room, ‘and with the people involved, this will be a priority case.'