I Remember You (15 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Harry could hardly restrain himself from punching the air in triumph as he absorbed the impact of Kim's news. So - he had guessed right. Finbar's killer was already under lock and key. Justice would be served. Sladdin must have moved with impressive speed.

Giving Jim a thumbs-up sign, he strove to keep his voice calm. ‘Already? When did they pick her up?'

‘You talk as though you were expecting it,' said Kim Lawrence, sounding nonplussed. ‘The police took her in for questioning at two o'clock yesterday.'

He thought either he had misheard or she was mistaken.

‘
Two
? Are you sure?'

‘Of course! I accompanied her to the police station.'

‘So they released her on bail?' The whole scenario was incredible. God, if she'd walked straight out of there and at once murdered her husband, someone would be in deep, deep trouble.

‘No,' said Kim Lawrence, ‘she was kept in overnight and released on bail this morning. I've just come back from court.'

Harry stared blindly at the telephone, unable to believe what he was being told.

‘Are you still there?' asked Kim.

‘I don't follow. What's - what's the charge?'

‘Criminal damage. The fire and the bomb. Originally there was talk of attempted murder, but they quietly dropped that after they learned someone else had actually done Rogan in that very evening.'

‘So - you mean there's no question of her having committed that crime?'

‘Of course not.' Kim sounded angry that the possibility had even crossed his mind. ‘The present charges are serious enough, but not even a hard case like Sladdin can claim Sinead ran Rogan down when at the estimated time of death he was personally subjecting her to the third degree.'

Harry swore silently. A few minutes earlier he had thought he had solved the mystery - now he was more confused than ever.

‘Can we talk? I mean, now?'

‘Yes, if you want to,' Kim said after a pause.

‘I'll meet you outside your office in five minutes.'

‘Outside? In this weather?'

‘This mist isn't anything compared to the fog in my brain.'

She grunted. ‘Suit yourself. And perhaps you can tell me a little more about how your client came to die. The police are playing their cards very close to their chest.'

Of course - she was after any information which might help her build her client's defence. Or, more realistically, a plea in mitigation.

‘I won't pretend I know much more than you, Kim, but I'd welcome a chat all the same. See you shortly.' He put the phone down and turned to Jim, who had been following the conversation with mounting bewilderment. Quickly, he explained what had happened.

‘Look, I have to see Kim. Why don't you go home? You're in no fit state to be out of the house.'

‘Are you telling me you're in a fit state to run our business?'

‘No need to moan, I know there's a ton of work to do.' A pang of guilt prompted him to add, ‘Listen, I'll make you a promise. Let me poke around just for the rest of today and after that you can chain me to the desk. There are a few questions I have to ask one or two people about Finbar's death. I owe him that much.'

‘You owe him nothing. He gave you the run-around when he was alive - don't let him do the same now he's dead. Anyway, what do you propose to do about the Graham-Browns?'

‘Don't worry, I'll sort out their file. Promise. Things need to come to a head if we're to have any hope of keeping them as clients. By tomorrow I'll be more than ready to leave detecting to the real detectives. Okay?'

Jim gave a resigned shrug. ‘That will be the day.'

Harry accompanied his partner to the front door, then raced over to the neat bare garden outside the stone-faced building which housed Kim Lawrence's office. She was waiting for him as promised, a pale and slender figure standing in the shadow of Liverpool Parish Church.

She moved towards him. Long hours spent with Sinead and the police had left her looking tired and defeated.

‘So, Harry. Your client's dead.'

He nodded. ‘And yours is facing jail. Perhaps we should have put more effort into marriage guidance.'

She smiled and turned up the collar of her raincoat. The air was damp as well as cold.

‘I'd sooner have tried to persuade Henry VIII and Anne of Cleves to get back together.'

‘Do I take it Sinead didn't shed too many tears when she heard Finbar had been killed?'

‘What do you expect? She's no hypocrite and she didn't pretend remorse she could never feel. She never intended him to die, but I think she sees it as a case of just desserts.'

‘Does she care less for the lives of people than animals?'

Kim gave him a sharp look. ‘Not at all. You forget the dance he led her during their marriage. She's entitled to feel bitter. You've read her affidavit - it's a catalogue of betrayal. I almost wonder that she didn't turn to violence long ago. But I promise you, she wouldn't commit murder. At least I assume it is murder. What exactly happened to him?'

He told her what he knew, then asked, ‘Has Sinead told you her motive for launching these attacks on Finbar?'

‘She was distraught after hearing about that girl Eileen McCray. You remember, words were exchanged about her at the Divorce Registry?'

‘I remember.'

‘Apparently Rogan got Eileen pregnant and she died while having an abortion. Sinead found out from the girl's mother only a short time ago; apparently the story had been doing the rounds up at the Irish club, the De Valera. The McCrays had known the Rogans for years and they were devastated. As far as Sinead was concerned, Rogan had gone too far. He'd been careless about wrecking her life, now he'd started destroying others too. She hates the idea of abortion and she felt he deserved to be punished. And then she was presented with an opportunity she felt she couldn't waste.'

‘Which was?'

‘The animal rights group she belonged to wanted to hit a shop in Williamson Lane. It sells mainly leather goods, but the man who owns it also trades in furs. The idea was to warn him off, maybe put him out of business altogether. When she realised the shop was directly below her husband's studio, she volunteered for the job. It gave her the chance to kill two birds with one stone.'

Harry swore. ‘If the fire had really taken hold, she might have killed more than birds.'

‘Oh, she never meant Rogan to die. The way she saw it, she was teaching him a lesson. The man was a menace - even you must agree with that.'

‘What did Sinead have to say about the bomb?'

‘After the court hearing went so badly, she lost control. She told me she felt provoked beyond endurance.' Kim saw Harry's eyebrows rise. ‘I'm not excusing what she did: obviously it was wrong. Even so, I can understand her sense of anger and despair.'

‘She could have made herself a murderess.'

Kim became the defence lawyer again. ‘I already said, she wanted to give him the fright of his life, not kill him. The bomb had a simple timing device and she was on the scene when it was due to explode, doing her best to make sure no one walked down the side street at the wrong moment.'

‘Very public-spirited.'

‘There's no need to take that tone! Sinead was misguided, of course, I don't deny it. What she did was a crime. But there are two sides to every story.'

And even if there aren't
, thought Harry,
someone like you or I will be paid to create them
. ‘I suppose,' he said, ‘that she picked up the bomb-making equipment through her connections with FAN!'

Kim nodded. ‘It's a small group which splintered off from the mainstream animal lib movement. I've acted for several of its members over the past few years. They favour direct action.'

‘Don't tell me - against “legitimate targets”, right?' He could not contain his despair at the senselessness of it all. ‘Another mob as keen on euphemisms as they are on blowing innocents to bits.'

‘That's a ridiculous over-simplification! Activists' methods may be crude and sometimes illegal, but they do have a point. Sinead says all life is sacred - and she's right. I'm a committed supporter of animal rights myself.'

‘I might have known it.'

‘For Heaven's sake! Are you aware of the terrible things done each day to defenceless creatures in our so-called civilised society? Do you realise that - '

‘Okay, okay, okay.' He dismissed her protestations with a sweep of the hand. He cared about animals himself; on another day and in other circumstances he might have agreed with much that she had to say, but right now he wasn't in the mood to debate vivisection. His greater concern was for human life.

‘So these characters have their own bomb factory, do they?'

‘Naturally, Sinead has refused to implicate any of her fellow activists, although the police put her under tremendous pressure to do so. But, yes, they have gelignite stored somewhere. She did say it had been stolen from a quarry in Wales and she'd been trained in how to use it.'

‘How did she know he was carrying on at the Blue Moon?'

‘Simple. She waited in her car outside his girlfriend's house that morning and when she saw him set off, she followed. He parked his car off the main road, out of sight. If you know what you're doing, it doesn't take long to affix a bomb to the underside of a vehicle.'

Harry kicked a stone into an empty flower bed: a trivial gesture to relieve the frustration he felt, the sense of impotence when confronted by the brutal absurdities of human behaviour. ‘For Christ's sake,' he said. ‘Sinead must have been out of her mind.'

‘A lot of my clients are. Yours too, I guess. Alone, short of money, they're at the bottom of the heap. Sanity doesn't always stay around for long in those circumstances. I tried to calm her after the court hearing, of course. She talked about revenge, but that's not unusual in the midst of a divorce case. Of course I had no idea what she would do.' Kim's voice faltered. ‘You know, I can't help feeling guilty. Irrational, maybe, but I keep thinking I should have realised she wasn't merely letting off steam.'

It occurred to Harry that she needed someone to listen to her whilst she tried to disentangle the knot of her own divided loyalties. In a gentler tone, he said, ‘We can't always read our clients' minds. Thank God.'

She sat down on a bench looking out beyond the main road towards the Mersey and he perched on the arm rest beside her. The Liver Building was visible, but the river itself was still wrapped in its grey blanket.

‘Sinead says Finbar was the most selfish bastard she'd ever met. And everything I've heard about him tells me she's right.'

‘Selfishness isn't a capital offence. If it was, the mortuaries would have standing room only. Of course Finbar had his faults: don't we all? But he didn't deserve to die because of them.'

She said nothing and he contemplated her sombre expression. She wore no make-up and her face was pinched by distress as well as by the cold. It seemed to him that Sinead's arrest had scraped off a layer of Kim's professional outer skin. He had never thought of her as vulnerable before. Stupid of him, really - he knew as well as anyone that a brisk courtroom manner is no less a disguise than a barrister's wig.

‘You are certain that Sinead wasn't connected with his murder?'

‘Positive. As you would be if you'd seen the surprise on her face when they gave her the news. Even the police are convinced. They didn't object to bail.'

She gazed out at the Titanic Memorial. Euphemists of days gone by had inscribed the stone monument with a dedication to ‘Heroes Of The Machine Room' in order to avoid giving passengers boarding ocean liners a direct reminder of the risk of tragedy. But Harry understood there was no escaping the reality of death.

‘Thanks for your time,' he said.

‘What do you intend to do?'

‘I'd like to find out who killed Finbar.'

‘Isn't that a job for the police? If you interfere, they are sure to disapprove.'

He gave her a crooked grin. ‘When did you or I ever let that stop us?'

Chapter Nineteen

Turning into North John Street five minutes later, he saw Baz Gilbert and Penny Newland coming out of the offices of Radio Liverpool, hand in hand.

The disc jockey spotted him crossing the road and waited for him to catch up with them.

‘You've heard about Finbar?'

‘Melissa called me round last night,' said Harry. ‘The police broke the news to her.'

‘How did she take it?'

‘As you would expect. I don't think it's sunk in yet.'

‘She's well rid of him,' said Penny.

Embarrassed by his girlfriend's willingness to speak ill of the dead, Baz said hurriedly, ‘As if Melissa hasn't had enough on her plate without this!'

‘You mean?' asked Harry.

Again Baz became keen to change the subject. ‘Oh, you know, she had a rough time with Finbar - and on top of that, she lost her job.'

Harry sensed the disc jockey had something else in mind. He pressed on.

‘No sign of Nick Folley changing his decision and reinstating her?'

‘She'll have to crawl to him first,' said Penny.

‘And do you think she'll do that?'

Penny shrugged. Harry gathered there was more to be said about the relationship between Melissa and her former boss - but Penny was in no mood to say it. He decided to try another line of attack.

‘What about Sophie? Did she seem shocked?'

‘She's been very subdued this morning,' said Baz, ‘though I suppose that's true of all of us who knew him. Besides, Sophie is another one with problems of her own. I don't think her rift with Nick has healed yet, by any means.'

‘It strikes me Nick is a bad person to cross,' Harry said, trying to sound casual.

‘You know what he's like.'

‘I know his reputation - but not the man.'

The couple exchanged glances which Harry could not interpret.

‘You're probably best keeping it that way,' said Baz.

Baz and Penny were determined, Harry sensed, to keep their own counsel. That didn't surprise him. Both of them took Nick Folley's shilling and he couldn't blame them for not wanting to put their jobs on the line. He would learn more from confronting the man himself.

‘Are Nick and Sophie both around today?'

‘Why do you ask?' demanded Penny.

Under her keen gaze, he felt himself wavering. Amateur sleuthing was never straightforward; perhaps that was part of its appeal.

‘I just wondered if I could have a word with them.'

‘Sophie's still in the office,' said Baz, ‘but Nick's down in London at the moment.'

‘London? When did he go?'

‘I heard him say he was taking the train yesterday night, although he's due back shortly. It was a last-minute arrangement - some urgent business cropped up. Suits us, anyway.'

‘Why's that?'

‘Nick was due to have an expense account lunch at Bellingham's today with one of our major advertisers. We're putting on a show for them tonight, a Hallowe'en party at Empire Hall, and he asked me to step in for him, said I could take Pen along too. That's where we're heading now.'

‘Then don't let me keep you. I'll just have a word with Sophie.'

‘I don't see what you're trying to achieve,' said Penny. ‘You said Melissa asked you round when the police came to see her. What in heaven's name is going on?'

‘It's like this,' said Harry, her scrutiny prompting him to candour. ‘Finbar's death is unlikely to have been an accident. I'm sure he was run over deliberately.'

‘
Murder
?' Baz sounded startled. ‘But I thought from the news bulletin...'

‘Nothing is certain yet. You could say I'm exceeding my brief, but Finbar was my client and I'd like to learn why he was killed - and who killed him.'

With that, he left the couple staring after him as he hurried up the steps which led to the entrance to the radio station.

‘How may I help you?' enquired a young girl at the front desk, forcing herself to tear her eyes from a cheap magazine. She evidently did not remember his previous visit.

‘I'd like to speak to Sophie Wilkins,' said Harry, giving his name. ‘Tell her it's about our mutual friend.'

‘One moment.' The girl spoke into a receiver and raised her eyebrows as she listened to the reply. Fixing a bright, disingenuous smile on her face, she said, ‘I'm afraid Miss Wilkins is in conference.'

‘I'll wait.'

‘She says it will be a very long conference.'

‘I'm extremely patient.'

‘I don't think she'll have time to - '

‘Please tell her I won't keep her long, but I do need to see her. I'm not going away till I've done so.'

Covering her mouth, the girl passed on the message. Leaning over the veneered desk surface, Harry caught the phrase ‘looks as if he means business'. Finally she turned back to him. ‘Miss Wilkins may be able to give you a couple of minutes after all. She'll come out shortly, but she is very busy and...'

‘Fine.'

Harry took a seat next to a tub of greenery. Above his head, a speaker relayed a programme hosted by a DJ whose heyday had been with Radio One in the seventies; he was now reduced to conducting phone-ins interspersed with numbers from the likes of James Taylor and Joni Mitchell. As Harry listened to an attack on the Labour Party's class treachery from an ex-docker with a smoker's cough, Sophie pushed through the double doors which led to the studios. As ever, she was brilliantly dressed, this time in a canary-coloured tracksuit. Yet her eyes seemed dull with fatigue and even her hair had lost its rich shine.

‘Thanks for seeing me,' he said quickly. ‘Is there somewhere private we can talk?'

She reopened the doors and led him down the corridor into a cramped kitchen.

‘This will have to do. I don't have my own office and anyway, I can't give you long. As you ought to realise, I have a great deal of work to organise.'

‘I'll get straight to the point. You've heard that Finbar is dead?'

She folded her arms. Harry sensed she was making a conscious effort to be calm and in control.

‘We've been broadcasting the news every thirty minutes since we went on the air, so I'm hardly likely to be unaware of it.'

‘I believe he was murdered.'

‘But the police haven't...'

‘The circumstances seem to rule out an accident.'

She plucked at her lower lip. ‘Well, it comes as no surprise. After the fire and the bombing, it was obvious someone wanted his blood.'

‘This is different. The person who committed the earlier crimes couldn't have run him down last night.'

Sophie screwed her features into a savage frown, clearly trying to decide whether he was shooting a line. Harry felt sure his words came as a shock to her.

‘But that's absurd!'

‘Not at all. Sinead Rogan had been taken in for questioning about both the arson and the bomb attack at the time Finbar was killed. This morning she was bailed on charges of criminal damage.'

‘
What
? I simply don't believe it!'

‘Whether you do or not, it's a fact. Assuming Finbar was the victim of a deliberate crime rather than an improbable stroke of bad luck, the police need to find another culprit.'

She cleared her throat nervously. ‘Well, there must be plenty of candidates. I never knew a man with such a talent for making enemies.'

‘Including yourself, of course.'

‘What are you insinuating?'

‘Come on, Sophie. Let's be frank' He could tell her attempt to rein in her emotions was collapsing. ‘You didn't part the best of chums, did you? When the police start casting round for possible suspects, they're bound to take a closer look at you. They may arrive with their notebooks any time now, wanting to find out whether you saw Finbar yesterday, where you were last night at the time he was killed...'

‘What you say is outrageous,' she said; in her voice he recognised fear rather than the simple rage of the unjustly accused. The last vestiges of her self-confidence had vanished.

‘Look, the sooner this whole bloody mess is cleared up, the better - for everyone.'

‘How dare you come here and make these slanderous innuendoes? And a lawyer, too! I've a good mind to report you to the Law Society.'

‘Join the queue,' he said wearily. ‘Listen, Sophie. Anything I can do to help identify who killed Finbar, I will. I'm not saying for a minute that you were involved - '

‘You're too kind.'

‘- I'm simply pointing out that questions are bound to be asked. You need to be ready for them.'

‘Thanks very much. When I need professional advice, I'll contact someone like Windaybanks.'

‘Okay, Sophie, have it your way. I didn't come here to pick a fight.'

The truth, if not the whole truth. His motives for turning up here were not disinterested. He had wanted to see at first hand how she would react to the suggestion that she was in the frame - and he had been rewarded by her hostile response.

‘I have to go now,' she said. ‘Some of us have work to do.' She turned, but paused to glance back over her shoulder from the doorway.

‘I had plenty to keep me occupied yesterday. You know the station's in trouble - I'm working all the hours God sends at present.'

‘When did you leave?'

She hesitated and he guessed she was wondering whether he would check on her.

‘Five o'clock. Late enough, after my usual dawn start.'

Over the years, he'd encountered many witnesses like Sophie: uncertain how far to spin their stories, more concerned to put themselves in the right than to stick to the truth. He kept quiet, watching her lick her lips.

‘And in case you're wondering,' she said, ‘after that, Nick and I went to his place. When Finbar Rogan was killed, the two of us were tucked up in bed together. Does that satisfy your curiosity?' She gave him a defiant look, then strode away.

Harry did not attempt to follow; he was satisfied with what he had achieved so far. He'd provoked her into saying too much and into a panicky attempt to allay any suspicion that she had been involved in Finbar's death.

As for the alibi, he was sure she was lying.