Layers of Deceit, page 19
Somewhere in all my notes was a detail which had a bearing on what had happened. If only the relevant words could wave at me to attract my attention. I wanted them to be avatars saying, ‘Here I am. Read this again! I’m the key to it all!’ If only Tahir would come out of hiding and reveal what he saw, or thought he saw, we would be one step further along the road to solving the mystery. Perhaps tomorrow, Katy would have some news on that front.
I drained my gin and tonic and went to get a refill. Not surprisingly, I was beginning to feel more relaxed. But at the same time, I felt my brain had new energy. It felt more analytical and able to make sense of it all. Instead of feeling tired, I felt focused.
I picked up the folder of miscellaneous items from Katy. There was a floor plan of the research building, Hanson’s file containing his yearly assessments, his medical history, and Katy’s notes from the psychologist Helen Whittard, and finally the card access data from the afternoon through to the evening when Hanson died.
I sipped my drink slowly as I read through each of the categories in sequence. The card access data was the most unappealing, rows of names and times and lots of entries. There were several access turnstiles, and the data wasn’t specific to individual departments. There were two columns for entry and exit. Katy had highlighted people from Hanson’s department, which reduced the data somewhat. My eyes began to blur as I looked at the rows of names with time logs next to them. I went back up through the columns again, and my finger stopped. My heart began to race. My armpits pricked with sweat.
When I added this observation to my earlier one, it completed the picture. Could this be it? I gasped as I realised I had been holding my breath. I felt light-headed, and closed my eyes, resting my head in my hands? Too much gin? Hardly. My top-up had been barely a pub measure. I closed my eyes and worked through the scenario once again. I felt sure it was plausible. Shocking but plausible.
I had one final piece of information to check which involved a web search of a person and an event. The result fitted the puzzle. After days of mulling over the evidence, I was now sure I knew who had argued with Hanson.
Chapter 47
Following my discovery, I had tried to contact Katy without success. After several attempts, I left a voicemail message asking her to phone me in the morning. Craig must have overheard me speaking and had come into the dining room to see whether I was talking to myself. My mind was buzzing with excitement, and I went through my theory with Craig. Despite a whisky nightcap, I had been unable to settle and had come downstairs to watch TV in the early hours of the morning. Craig had allowed me to sleep until eight, before waking me gently and presenting me with a cup of tea.
‘Good morning, Miss Marple,’ he said. ‘I thought I had better wake you in case Katy phones.’
‘Oh, yes, thank you.’ I yawned. ‘God, my head feels like someone has been kicking it.’
‘What time did you go to sleep?’
‘I’ve no idea. I remember watching the news headlines at four, but not much after that.’ I groaned. ‘I’ve only had about three hours sleep.’
‘Drink your tea and then have a shower. Do you think you’ll be going to QexChem today?’
‘I don’t know. Hopefully, not until after lunch.’
‘Well, if Katy can’t give you a lift, I’ll drive you. You aren’t in any fit state.’
I nodded. ‘Thank you. And thanks for the tea.’
‘I must admit I didn’t sleep that well either,’ said Craig. ‘I kept going through what you had told me. It’s awful to think that Hanson was left to die. It was a cruel thing to do.’
‘People panic, though.’
‘Yes, but whatever happens, surely it’s a natural instinct to try to save a life?’
‘Well, it depends what’s been going on in the background, though. Until we understand more about that, we won’t know the full picture.’
‘You are being more magnanimous than me,’ said Craig.
‘I’m only saying that because it seems that Hanson’s personality really changed. It’s not always easy if you have to suffer someone being boastful or belittling you.’
Craig appeared unconvinced but gave a muted nod of his head. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to drink your tea and get ready. I’ll make a start on my work.’
**
Katy phoned me just after 9 a.m., and I spent quite some time on the phone going through my theory. Not only had I explained what I’d spotted from the card access data, but I had also come up with a scenario to explain Hanson not having his lone-worker alarm in his pocket. As always, Katy listened without interruption and thanked me effusively for taking the time to re-examine the documents. However, rather than heading directly to QexChem, Katy wanted to speak to her Superintendent to get some advice. I wasn’t disappointed by her cautious approach as my sleepless night was catching up with me.
We said our goodbyes and I went upstairs to update Craig.
‘Why don’t you go back to bed?’ said Craig. ‘Katy won’t be phoning back for a while.’
‘I’ve only just woken up!’
‘But you look so tired. Go on. It will do you good,’ urged Craig.
I felt guilty, but I realised it was pointless to fight against my body which was telling me it needed to recharge. There was always a danger that my tiredness would induce another bad headache, and I felt I’d had enough of those in the last few days. So, I went along to my bedroom and snuggled under the covers. Within minutes sleep overcame me.
**
I awoke just before noon, and stayed in bed for another half-hour in that cosy intermediate world between sleep and wakefulness. I got up and washed my face, then tip-toed into Craig’s office and put my arms around his neck. ‘I had a wonderful sleep. Thank you for insisting I went back to bed.’
‘That’s OK. I don’t mind you sleeping whilst I’m working. I was hoping you would wake up in time to feed me,’ he replied. ‘I’ll come down now as I’m starting to see double.’
**
Around mid-afternoon, as I was having my cup of tea, Katy phoned me. ‘Sarah, I’ve got a bit of good news. Tahir contacted me earlier this afternoon.’
My heart began to race, and I slopped a bit of tea on to the coffee table as I put my mug down.
‘Well, Tahir was helpful, but although he corroborates what you’ve worked out, he’s backtracking a bit on exactly what he saw,’ said Katy sounding rather flat.
‘Backtracking?’ I said.
‘Well, he heard and saw someone arguing with Hanson, but he’s worried now that he read too much into it. I mean, he saw some sort of dispute, but that was all it was. A heated argument. He didn’t see anyone pushing Hanson.’
I sighed. ‘So, where does this leave us?’
‘Well, it’s going to be difficult to prove it was anything other than an accident. Which it may well have been,’ added Katy.
‘Oh,’ I replied as I was still processing Katy’s information. ‘I thought Tahir was more certain from his note?’
‘Well, not really. He saw and heard an argument. That’s all it said. I think maybe that I read more into the note than was actually there. Then when he disappeared, I interpreted it as meaning he’d seen an assault.’
‘Oh, I see.’ I replied.
‘Anyway, there’s the publication issue to tell QexChem about, and we need to conduct more interviews as well.’
‘OK. So when are you planning to go to QexChem?’ I said.
‘I don’t know at the moment. I’ll have to get back to you. I’m in court tomorrow, and I need to run all this by my Superintendent. Perhaps the day after tomorrow,’ Katy paused. ‘There’s always the possibility that Tahir will reflect and be more definite about what he witnessed.’
‘OK, that’s fine. Just let me know.’
The end-game was fast approaching, but although it would bring a closure of sorts, I was dreading it. There were difficult discussions ahead which would disturb the equilibrium at QexChem for months to come, and I didn’t relish the prospect of being part of it.
Chapter 48
The next morning, Craig made an early start on his book. After doing a few jobs in the house, I told Craig I had some errands to run, and also that I might stay out for lunch. He was so engrossed in his writing that he didn’t ask me where I was going, nor did I elaborate. I often went up to the nearby retail park for a few hours, indulging in a coffee or sandwich whilst I was up there.
However, instead of heading to the shops, I drove down to the auction in Sandwich. As I drove, I felt a bit guilty at not telling Craig exactly where I was going, but I didn’t want him to accuse me of being obsessed with a certain subject. Parking was once again difficult, and I had to use a car park on the other side of the town. The Drill Hall was busy when I arrived, and I inched my way in, finding a quiet spot towards the back of the room. I scanned the assembled bidders, but couldn’t see Nathan. For a few moments, I wondered whether I had been rather foolish, but it was a while since I’d been to an auction and I was curious to see what some of the lots realised.
The auctioneer moved quickly through the lots, many only receiving a couple of bids, and most selling for close to the estimate. So far, it didn’t look as though anyone would be making a fortune today, but at least most items were finding new homes. I looked at the catalogue and saw that the painting I was interested in was about twenty lots ahead. More people were coming into the hall, and the atmosphere was becoming quite hot and fusty. Each time a new group entered, I glanced at the doorway. Then, my heart skipped a beat as I saw Nathan shuffle in, pushing past a few people as he tried to find a space.
What should I do? Try to catch Nathan’s eye and say hello or hide from him? I had predicted that Nathan would be here, but seeing him in the flesh triggered some guilt that I was spying on him, and I felt slightly uneasy. I took a few deep breaths. Was there any reason to feel guilty about being there? Although I knew my motives for attending the auction, Nathan didn’t, and besides, it was hardly a long way from Broadstairs. I was retired and was merely having a trip out. I studied the catalogue as I decided on my tactics.
As the auctioneer announced the next lot, I realised that proceedings had advanced apace and Cyril’s painting was the next but one lot. I moved to one side, so I had a better view of Nathan.
‘Lot 176,’ said the auctioneer. ‘A nice example of a watercolour, by James McFarlane. Can we start at eighty pounds?’
There were no bids. Nathan was scanning the room.
‘Come one, come on. Who’ll start me at sixty pounds?’ he paused. ‘Fifty then?’
I saw a hand raised.
‘Thank you, madam. Can we say sixty?’
The bidding was underway and slowly advanced by ten pounds up to a hundred.
‘Come on. It’s a nice painting. We can do five if it helps? Anyone?’
The atmosphere was tense.
‘Yes, sir, thank you. A hundred and ten, anyone?’ said the auctioneer sounding more excited.
There seemed to be a new interest in the room, and another bidder stepped in. Gradually in increments of five pounds, the price increased to a hundred and fifty pounds, before interest waned.
‘Are you all done? I’m selling. Going once, going twice,’ he paused, then brought his gavel down. ‘Sold to you madam. Can I see your number?’
My eyes focussed on Nathan who scribbled something down on his catalogue, confirming my suspicions that the painting belonged to Cyril. However, I had no proof who had entered it into the auction.
In my catalogue, I had marked what I assumed were Cyril’s lots and turning the page saw that there were about ten more before the candlesticks. Would Nathan wait to see those go under the hammer?
I could feel my hands sweating as the auctioneer called out Lot 187. Would this sell for a handsome price? Bidding got underway but was sluggish. Gradually, the bids climbed to within five pounds of the estimate. After one final scan of the room, the gavel came down and the candlesticks sold for seventy pounds. Again, Nathan scribbled the price down.
As a woman left the room, she must have caught her foot against some furniture and stumbled slightly, causing Nathan to hold her arm, and in the process, he dropped his pencil and catalogue. I could hear her apologise, and as Nathan bent down to retrieve his possessions, he saw me and sidled over. I smiled, trying to feign surprise at seeing him.
‘Sarah! Hello. Nice to see you.’
‘And you? Are you here for anything in particular?’ I said.
Nathan’s mood was a great improvement on the previous morning. He had a positively sunny disposition. ‘Oh, yes. Uncle asked me to put in a few of his things. He says he’s fed up with them.’
‘Which ones?’ I said casually.
Nathan showed me in his catalogue. ‘They went for a reasonable price. I think he’ll be quite pleased.’
‘Cyril didn’t fancy coming here today, then?’ I said.
‘Oh, he was going to, but he had a headache this morning. So, are you planning to bid for anything or just having a nosy?’ said Nathan.
His use of the word nosy wrong-footed me slightly. ‘Oh, er well, I’m quite interested in the ceramic dog figurine,’ I added, showing Nathan the appropriate lot. ‘And this looks quite interesting. I like vases.’
‘Oh, that’s a Moorcroft one, they can go for good prices,’ said Nathan. ‘I didn’t know you were a collector. I had you down as a minimalist. Well, from what I could see when we walked through your house.’
‘Oh, it’s a new interest. I’ve got more time on my hands, and I’ve been watching a few of those programmes on TV about it,’ I replied, aware that Nathan was regarding me intently. Had he guessed my true motivation for my interest in the auction?
The reserve on the Moorcroft vase was two hundred pounds, and I had no intention of bidding for that. However, the little pottery dog had an estimate of thirty pounds, making it more attractive.
‘Well, good luck. I’ve just got one more lot to go,’ said Nathan. ‘It’s coming up soon.’
Nathan remained next to me for the rest of the auction, which was slightly annoying as I felt a bit trapped. His plate sold for thirty pounds, five pounds above the estimate, so he had done well.
The auctioneer announced, ‘Lot 212. A cute little item. A Victorian Staffordshire Spaniel in a red and white design. Shall we say forty pounds?’
‘Good luck,’ whispered Nathan.
‘Thirty?’ persisted the auctioneer. ‘Come on, this is silly, who will give me twenty?’
I raised my hand.
‘Thank you, madam. Twenty pounds with the lady at the back in the blue top. Twenty-five, anywhere? No, what about twenty-two?’
‘Sir. With you. Can we say twenty-five, madam.’
I raised my hand. This was ridiculous. I was bidding for something I didn’t want just to save face. The bidding advanced to thirty pounds.
‘I reckon you’ll get it if you bid again,’ said Nathan.
I raised my hand.
‘Thank you, madam. Back with the lady at thirty-five pounds. Can we say forty?’
My heart was racing.
‘What about thirty-seven? Anyone?’
The auctioneer was trying very hard, but interest had petered out. He brought his gavel down, declaring that I was now the owner of a ceramic dog.
‘Can I have your name?’ he shouted.
‘Needham!’ I called back.
‘Well done!’ said Nathan. ‘Only thirty-five pounds, that’s a bargain.
‘Hmm,’ I agreed.
‘The vase will be up in about five minutes. I reckon there will be quite a bit of interest in that.’
As soon as the vase sold, I would go in search of a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, instead of heading home, I would have to hang around until the end of the auction to collect my cherished ornament. I also had another dilemma. Should I tell Craig what I’d been up to? I realised I might get criticised on a couple of fronts. Whether I was willing to risk that, I wasn’t sure, but I had a couple of hours to decide.
Chapter 49
‘It’s hideous,’ said Craig as we sat having a cup of tea. ‘Thank God you didn’t decide to give it to me for my birthday!’
‘I think he’s rather cute. He’s growing on me.’
Craig picked it up and looked underneath. ‘How do you know it’s a he? At least it doesn’t need feeding or taking for walks. Couldn’t you have picked something a bit nicer?’
‘I could, but it would have cost me more. Besides, I had to decide on something quickly when Nathan asked me. I hadn’t foreseen that he might be interested in why I was there. I’d been so focused on watching him, that I didn’t plan for that.’
‘Yes, poor planning and look at the result!’ said Craig.
Although I had been worried about telling Craig, my impulsive purchase had given us some entertainment.
‘So, you were right in your observations about the items from next door, but you don’t have proof of Nathan’s deviousness?’ said Craig. ‘The jury’s still out?’
‘Yes, but it does mean I will be keeping my beady eye on him in case I see anything else disappearing out of the house.’
‘Ah, but he’s probably wise to you now. He will have to adopt more surreptitious methods.’
‘I’m glad you are enjoying this so much,’ I said. ‘It’s really put a smile on your face.’
‘I’ll just move our little friend,’ said Craig. ‘I don’t like that look in his eye. He’s watching me all the time.’
‘Well, I think I got a bargain. I might sell him on eBay. Look, there are some similar ones, and they are listed for more than thirty-five pounds.’
‘There are always mugs around,’ said Craig.
