The Kill (11 page)

The male model being Rob, I guessed. Derwent had a million nicknames for him, mostly rude.

‘I got together with Rob just after I broke up with Ian, but there was a gap.’
Of about five minutes
. ‘I have been single in the past, though, and I don’t remember trying to pull everyone that crossed my path.’

‘Then you were doing it wrong. If you ever need a few pointers, let me know.’ He winked. I knew it was designed to bother me but I couldn’t let that go.

‘I can’t believe you just winked at me. Don’t ever do that again.’

‘Protesting too much, Kerrigan.’

‘No, just the right amount.’ A glint in Derwent’s eye could have been anger or amusement. Either way, I had probably said too much. ‘How far did you get with Chloe?’

‘I got her number.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t know if I’ll use it or not, but it’s one for the shag bank.’

‘You’d have to take her out first. I thought you didn’t believe in dating.’

‘Might be worth it, for her.’

There was something in his voice that made me look at him, surprised. ‘Don’t tell me you’re smitten.’

‘Not smitten.’ The grin. ‘She looks properly dirty, though. Something about the way she walks. That look in her eye. You can’t fake it.’

I shook my head. ‘No matter how low I set my expectations, you always manage to get under them.’

‘And no matter how tight the knickers, I always get into them in the end.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s a gift.’

I checked the time. ‘We’d better get going if you want to get something to eat. We still have to talk to Romeo himself, Hugh Johnson. Are you going to the post-mortem?’

‘Not likely. Not if the boss is going.’ He started back down the path. Over his shoulder, he said, ‘I’ve had enough of him for one day. He was a proper little ray of sunshine earlier.’

‘I’ve seen him in better moods,’ I said.

‘Bet you have. You still haven’t told me what you did to piss him off.’

‘I have told you, actually. Absolutely nothing. It’s probably something to do with the divorce.’

‘Divorce?’ Derwent stopped at that.

‘Didn’t you know? He and Serena have split.’

‘When? Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did she leave him or did he leave her?’

‘I don’t know that either.’

‘Like hell you don’t.’ Derwent was frowning. ‘How did you find this out?’

‘He told me. At the wedding. I didn’t ask him,’ I felt compelled to add.

‘What else did he say?’

‘Not a lot. Look, I know you like to think the worst of people but it’s nothing to do with me.’

Derwent raised one eyebrow.

‘Oh, come on. Not you too. I am not having a relationship with the boss. I’ve shared closer moments with you.’

The other eyebrow went up.

‘Seriously,’ I said.

‘What about the boss’s daughter? How’s she taking it?’

‘I didn’t ask.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘It might explain a few things, actually. Godley told me Isobel was applying to American universities. I thought it was strange that he’d let her go so far away, where he couldn’t keep an eye on her. Maybe she was getting out of town because home was too miserable.’

‘Maybe he wanted her to go far away so she could have some freedom.’

‘No father wants his teenage daughter to have any freedom,’ Derwent said. ‘Believe me, I’ve known a few.’

‘If it was freedom to spend time with you, I completely understand.’

Derwent shook his head. ‘I can’t believe the boss is getting divorced. I’d never have picked them to break up, if I’m honest. Serena was the perfect woman. Beautiful, cultured, intelligent—’

‘I didn’t think intelligence mattered to you. Or culture.’

‘No, but these things matter to the boss. She was incredibly understanding, too. Never seemed to mind when he was out all the time. Never complained about the job.’

‘That you know of. Maybe she got tired of coming second to his work.’

‘She knew what she was getting into. He was already a copper when she married him.’

‘It’ll have got worse, though, since then. He’s more important. He has more responsibilities. Maybe it was more than she bargained for.’

Derwent pulled a face, brooding over it.

‘You never really know what’s going on in someone else’s relationship,’ I said. ‘It might have looked good from the outside but something wasn’t working.’

‘That’s what you tell yourself so you can justify sleeping with him.’

‘I’m not sleeping with him!’ I said it loudly enough that a couple of wood pigeons took fright and plunged away from us through the trees in a flurry of wings.

‘No need to shout.’ Derwent seemed to feel he’d gone far enough. ‘Speaking of relationships, what did you make of Mrs Hammond?’

I told him my impressions of her, and the house, and what she’d said about their family. I saved the bit about Vanessa’s black eye until we were eating our late breakfast by the burger van in the car park. The place was busy with families and dog walkers so I kept my voice low, a subtlety that was lost on Derwent.

‘Bloody hell. What’s going on there?’

‘I don’t know but I’d say it’s a priority to find out.’

‘We should go through Vanessa’s school. Find a responsible adult that way. Cut Mrs Hammond out before she finds a way to keep us at arm’s length.’

‘I’m sure the boss will support that.’

Derwent hooked the meat out of the middle of his burger and wadded half of it into his mouth. With some difficulty, he said, ‘I don’t like this, you know.’

‘What?’

‘Poking around in this guy’s life. I don’t want to know why his daughter has a black eye. I don’t want to pull his marriage apart. I just want him to be a hero. A copper gets killed and you want him to be a hero, not a prick. This Hammond is shaping up like a prick. Getting noshed off by some trollop on his way home from work sounds like fun but it’s not what you want in the headlines, is it?’

A father pulled his small daughter out of our vicinity, glaring at us. Derwent was oblivious. I moved a bit further away from the burger van queue.

‘He might have been a good cop even if his private life was messy.’

‘Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he brought all of this on himself.’ Derwent dumped the burger bun in the bin and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. ‘You know how I told Megan no one deserved to be shot? I’m not so sure that’s true.’

‘It’s a good line, though.’

‘I thought so. And she did too, which is what matters.’ Derwent stretched. ‘Let’s go and see what the badger-bothering television personality can tell us about what happened last night.’

‘Somehow I think his version won’t be exactly the same as Megan’s.’

‘Less perving, more heroics?’

‘That sort of thing.’

Derwent sighed. Under his breath, he said, ‘Can’t wait.’

Chapter 7

I’d already formed an impression of what Hugh might be like from Megan’s account of their evening together. It was generally unwise to bring any preconceptions to an interview, but Hugh conformed to type from the moment he answered the door. I recognised him from TV ads for his wildlife programmes but he was smaller than I had expected, five foot six maybe. He had fair curly hair that he wore short, brushed back from a high forehead. He used his beard to define a jawline that was otherwise inclined to soften into his neck. I was sure his image was important to him: his eyebrows looked suspiciously well groomed and his teeth were capped to perfection. He was wearing a brown-and-green checked shirt and cords, country casual in the heart of London. He looked warily at us, half-hiding behind the door.

‘Yes?’

‘Police,’ Derwent said, his voice loud enough to be clearly audible to the neighbours. ‘Can we come in, Mr Johnson?’

Hugh winced and hurried to stand back – anything to get us off the street and out of sight. As we came through the door, he snapped, ‘Shoes off, please.’

It was a reasonable enough request. I might even have offered to take them off if he’d given me the chance, because the trudge through the woods had left its mark on me. Little flakes of dried mud drifted on to the floor as I pulled off my boots. For his part, Derwent glowered. He took his own sweet time about removing his shoes so I was on my own as I followed Hugh into the living room.

I could only imagine that Hugh had picked the basement flat in Fulham because of the posh postcode: inside it was low-ceilinged and dark. The living room was sparsely furnished, apparently at random. It looked dated and shabby.

‘You can sit there.’ He pointed at a small sofa, taking a scuffed leather armchair for himself. He watched me as I sat down and I could practically hear him thinking,
too tall
. ‘Is this going to take long?’

‘We just want to get a statement from you about what happened last night,’ I said.

‘Sure. Yes. Of course.’ His eyes were fixed on mine, his stare so intense that I could see white around the irises. He had the air of a horse about to bolt. ‘I just wonder if I should have a solicitor present.’

I blinked, wondering if I’d misheard. He looked completely serious. I gambled that he meant it. ‘That’s up to you. But I don’t think you need one.’

‘It’s just, you know. In my position. As a public figure.’

‘A television presenter.’

Hugh bristled. ‘My reputation is very important. Public perception matters. My livelihood depends on how popular I am.’

‘I understand that. But this statement is for use by the police and possibly the courts. It’s not released to the press.’
Even if they were interested
…

‘What’s the problem?’ Derwent strolled into the room and started wandering around, picking up photographs and ornaments to inspect them. ‘I thought we’d be finished by now. Don’t tell me you haven’t even started.’

‘Mr Johnson was wondering if he needed a lawyer.’

‘I’m just being wary,’ Hugh said, defensive immediately. ‘I know what can happen. Statements can be misconstrued. Things can be taken out of context.’

‘By the police?’ Derwent asked. His tone was deceptively innocent.

‘Sometimes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it into place.

‘You don’t trust us.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ The two men stared at one another in silence, until Hugh started to fidget. ‘I’m sure that won’t be the case here.’

‘What exactly are you worrying about?’ Derwent demanded. ‘That people might think it’s a bit weird of you to use your reputation as a wildlife expert to convince pretty young girls to date you?’

‘That sort of thing.’ Hugh tried for a smile. ‘You can see how it could be interpreted.’

‘I know how I’ve interpreted it.’

‘We’ve already got a statement from Megan,’ I said quickly, seeing the colour rise in Hugh’s cheeks. ‘So it’s really just about confirming the details of what she told us, and checking whether you saw anything she didn’t.’

‘You know, I want to cooperate. I’d assume I did see things she would have missed.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I’m a trained observer. I notice the details.’ He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and laced his fingers in front of his chest. I could sense his confidence rising. ‘That environment is one I know particularly well. I’m used to being there.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ Derwent’s voice was pitched low. I’d have known what he was saying even if I hadn’t heard the words. To Hugh Johnson, he said, ‘How does that work, anyway? When do you make your move on them? Out in the open or back at the car, when they’re grateful to be warm and dry again? Or maybe up against a tree on the way back. That would work, wouldn’t it?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was simply responding to a fan’s wish to see some beautiful animals in their proper environment.’

‘So it was
her
idea?’ Derwent nodded. ‘I see.’

I caught Derwent’s eye and gave him a warning frown. To Hugh, I said, ‘What details did you notice?’

‘The car. I’m pretty sure I got the colour and maybe the make.’

‘Really? Because Megan seemed to think you wouldn’t have seen much of anything.’ Derwent came to sit beside me, his knees so wide apart I had to turn sideways to make room for him.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘She said you were terrified. You were busy hiding when the car went past.’ Not the most diplomatic way of raising that, but then Derwent wasn’t the most diplomatic of men.

Hugh shifted in his seat again. ‘Why are you even here? If you’re determined to discount everything I say—’

‘We’re not,’ I said, crossing my fingers that Derwent wouldn’t contradict me. ‘We just want to be sure that what you tell us is the truth and not exaggerated. No one is blaming you if you didn’t see anything. If you say you saw something and it later turns out that you were wrong, we could waste a lot of time looking for something or someone that doesn’t exist.’

‘I would never do that.’ Hugh blinked at me, hurt.

‘Just tell us what you remember about last night.’

‘Starting when?’

‘When you met up with Megan,’ I suggested.

Frowning, Hugh began to describe where and when he and Megan had met. His account tallied with hers more or less exactly, right up until the moment after the second shot was fired. ‘I did lie down at that point, and stayed low. I was concerned for Megan’s safety as well as my own. There are people who don’t like what I do, and what I stand for. Just because I’m on television that doesn’t mean I’m popular.’

‘Ever had death threats?’ Derwent asked.

‘None that I brought to the attention of the police.’

‘But you have had threats.’

‘Not in so many words.’ Hugh wriggled, put on the spot and not enjoying it. ‘Attention from the fans – it’s nice, but it can be intense.’

‘So your first thought was that the shots had been fired by a fan,’ Derwent said slowly.

‘Not my first thought. Not even my second.’ Hugh ran his hand through his hair again. ‘God. I don’t know. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it was really happening. For the sake of being safe I got on the ground and I told Megan to do the same. I didn’t want her to be endangered.’

‘Very chivalrous,’ Derwent commented.

‘It’s the truth.’

‘You were lying down. It was dark and the car didn’t have lights on,’ I said. ‘How much could you see?’