A Life for a Life (15 page)

‘Yes, I am.’

‘It does seem to me that there’s some acceptance of them now. Even Dr Saunders told me yesterday that there’s a case for treating patients on Alkovin with prophylactic antidepressants.’

Leo shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s occasional transient depression, although it’s far from proven that Alkovin is the cause. The fact remains that it’s an invaluable drug for treating lymphoblastic leukaemia.’

‘I wouldn’t have described what Frances Templeton went through as transient.’

‘She’s an exception.’

‘The one that proves the rule, perhaps?’

Leo leaned back. ‘Those are your words.’

‘Where was Alkovin developed?’

‘In the States, by our parent company.’

He explained how after successful Phase One and Two trials there, the company wanted to introduce it to the UK.

Phase One and Two trials? Tom queried.

Phase One, Leo told him, was to use the drug on terminal patients who had nothing to lose and perhaps something to gain, while Phase Two was a direct comparison of the drug on nonterminal patients with other, established drugs. ‘If there were any serious side-effects, we’d have learned about them at that stage,’ he said.

‘Wouldn’t that depend on how long the trials lasted? I understand these side-effects don’t appear until after the second or third round of treatment.’

‘The trials are designed to take that into account.’

‘And yet,’ Tom persisted, ‘Dr Somersby refused to take on the drug over here because of what an American colleague had told him about it.’

‘That was hearsay, the source of which Dr Somersby refused to divulge. We made enquiries, but picked up nothing ourselves.’

‘We?’

‘Myself and my own American colleagues.’

‘But after Dr Somersby had been murdered, and Alkovin taken on, Dr Callan repeatedly produced evidence to the contrary – didn’t this make you wonder at all?’

‘Sure it did. We looked at Dr Callan’s evidence very carefully on each occasion and concluded that it didn’t stand up.’

‘We?’

‘Myself, Dr Flint and Dr Saunders.’

‘I didn’t realise you were qualified to make medical judgements, Mr Farleigh,’ Tom sniped.

‘Perhaps not on my own, Mr Jones, no. Certainly no more than you are to question me about it now.’

‘
Touché
,’ Tom said, understanding why Leo was such a successful company rep. ‘It seems ironic though, doesn’t it, that after all Dr Callan’s efforts, his fiancée should be the one to prove him right?’

‘Frances’ unfortunate experience is in no way proof of anything. What it
does
explain is Fraser’s emotional judgements concerning Alkovin, not to mention the subsequent tragedy.’

Time for a switch. ‘Are you aware of how much Parc-Reed shares have risen over the last year?’

‘Sure. We’re all very pleased about it.’ No hesitation, not bothered in the least.

‘How many do
you
own?’

‘Two thousand. A company bonus. A lot of us got them.’

‘Someone who owned a large block would make a lot of money.’

‘I imagine they would.’

‘How much of that rise is due to the apparent success of Alkovin?’

Leo spread his hands and shrugged. ‘You tell me. I expect it has some bearing.’

‘So it would be to the advantage of someone owning a lot of shares if any – er – negative information concerning Alkovin could be suppressed?’

Leo leaned back in his chair with an expression of frank dislike. ‘Just what are you getting at, Mr Jones?’

‘I’d have thought that was obvious. Dr Callan says that Alkovin is dangerous and I’ve just outlined a very clear motive for suppressing such information.’

‘As I told you just now, I own two thousand Parc-Reed shares given me as a bonus by the company. You can check that on the public register, if you haven’t already. I don’t know how many other people own and I don’t think there’s any point in further discussion of this topic.’

He got to his feet, but Tom said deliberately, ‘I haven’t finished yet.’

They stared at each other a moment before Leo resumed his seat. Tom said, ‘Dr Callan told me that Dr Flint had come round to his way of thinking, that’s why she phoned and asked him to come to her house that Saturday.’

‘And I repeat,’ said Leo, ‘he would say something like that, wouldn’t he?’

‘Why were you there, Mr Farleigh?’

‘I’d just been faxed some new data on Alkovin from the States that I thought she’d want to see.’

‘On a
Saturday
?’

‘Sure. I’m married to my job, Mr Jones. So was she.’

‘But Dr Callan says you told him that Dr Flint had phoned you.’

‘No, he asked me whether she had phoned me and I said yes. I’d just found Dr Callan with her dead body – I’d have agreed with anything he said at that moment. My one idea was to get the police as quickly as possible.’

‘D’you still have this data you were going to show her?’

‘Sure I do, it’s somewhere at the office. D’you want me to look it out for you?’

‘If you would, please.’

‘Was there anything else before you go?’

There wasn’t a lot. Tom had just about exhausted his locker and Leo knew it. ‘Yes. You said in your statement to the police that Dr Callan was still holding the stick when you found him with Dr Flint’s body?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Would you show me?’

Leo gave a short laugh. ‘What d’you mean, show you?’

Tom looked round the room, got up and fetched an umbrella. ‘This’ll do for the stick.’ He handed it to the bemused Leo. ‘And this’ll do for Dr Flint.’ He placed a cushion on the floor. ‘Now, show me what Dr Callan was doing when you found him.’

With a look at Tom, Leo knelt beside the cushion, touched it with his left hand while holding the umbrella in his right. ‘He was touching her head, like this, and holding the stick like this…’ He somehow managed to imbue the pose with infinite malice.

‘OK, thanks,’ said Tom. ‘That’ll be all for now – oh, that material you’re going to send me – will you be in your office this afternoon? I’ll come and collect it.’

‘I hadn’t intended to be.’

‘Tomorrow morning, then? I really would like to see it.’

‘All right,’ Leo said resignedly. ‘Tomorrow morning. D’you know how to find us?’ He gave him instructions.

17

Tom phoned Agnes from his car and she told him she could see him in half an hour, so he smoked a contemplative cheroot while he thought about Leo and the things he’d said. Would a guilty person have reacted with such in-your-face defiance? he wondered. Or maybe he really did consider himself fireproof…

He made some notes in his book, then drove down to the city centre and looked for somewhere to park.

‘I’m sure they’re both liars,’ he told Agnes in her office, ‘but I don’t know how much that helps you.’

‘What are they lying about, exactly?’ She was wearing a blue dress that set off the colour of her limpid eyes.

‘Well, Saunders firstly tried to heap all the blame for Alkovin on to Dr Flint, then waxed most indignant when I brought up the subject of shares.’

‘Protesting too much?’

‘Far too much. Farleigh more or less looked me in the eye and dared me to prove it.’ He gave her the gist of the two interviews.

‘But you think all three of them had shares and were trying to up the price?’

‘Farleigh, certainly. The other two? Well, maybe they started out genuinely believing in the drug and didn’t see any harm in a little part-time insider dealing… but there’s no doubt that when Callan tried to warn them about the side-effects, they not only wilfully ignored him, but actively tried to suppress him… So yes, I do.’

‘D’you think either of them killed Somersby?’

‘The police didn’t think so… and it would imply a level of premeditation and ruthlessness I wouldn’t have credited them with.’

‘Not even Farleigh?’

‘Well, possibly Farleigh…’

Agnes leaned forward slightly. ‘Could either Farleigh or Saunders have killed Dr Flint?’

‘Again, the police don’t think so.’

‘But what do
you
think, Mr Jones?’

After a pause, Tom sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘All right… but it would still help Fraser if we could show they were corrupt, wouldn’t it?’

Tom took a breath, released it. ‘It might. But then again, supposing we were able to prove it, the prosecution could argue that the fact Dr Flint used Alkovin on Callan’s fiancée knowing its dangers makes an even stronger motive for him killing her.’

‘But her phone call – she’d changed her mind about it.’

‘We still only have his word for that.’

‘But if you’re right about Saunders and Farleigh, it gives
them
a motive for killing her as well, doesn’t it?’

‘Only if they knew she changed her mind – assuming she did change it. And how
could
they know? Callan himself said she told him she was worried
in case
they found out.’

‘No he didn’t,’ Agnes said. She rummaged among the papers on her desk for a moment. ‘He said that she told him to come as soon as he could, because “I’m worried about the others.”‘ She looked up. ‘I think the best defence is that they were all three corrupt, and that Farleigh and Saunders have just as strong motives for killing her as Fraser.’

‘You could be right,’ agreed Tom, ‘but how the hell we go about proving it, I’ve no idea.’

‘What about the public register of shares?’

‘We’ve already looked,’ he said, and told her what he’d discovered about nominee accounts.

‘But couldn’t we get a court order to make the broker tell us the truth?’

‘Certainly we could, so long as we first found which broker they’d used. There are thousands of them and they’re bound to have picked one miles away – Liverpool, or somewhere. Besides,’ he continued, ‘I don’t mind betting they’ve already taken the money and run.’

‘Sold the shares, you mean? Mightn’t that be the way of nailing them?’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘There must be records of share sales. Couldn’t we look up recent large sales and trace them back to the brokers?’

‘We could try, but millions,
billions
, of shares change hands every day. And their blocks wouldn’t be that large compared with the big insurance companies and pension funds.’ He paused. ‘I’ll look into it when I get back.’

She said tentatively, There is one other possibility…’

He waited.

‘I had a phone call from the police this morning. Sebi Flint, that’s Dr Flint’s son, is her executor and he’s asked them whether he can start going through some of her effects. Garrett rang to ask whether I had any objections.’

‘And had you?’

‘I said no at the time, but it’s occurred to me since that she might have had an address book or something, some record of the name of her broker.’

Tom’s mind raced as he mentally kicked himself – he’d been in the house, at her desk, only two days before…

‘Did the police give any indication of when Master Flint would be likely to start?’ he asked.

‘No. Obviously, they’d have had to get back to him first—’

‘Which they’ve probably already done by now.’

‘But would he necessarily want to start immediately?’

‘He might. What are you suggesting, that we tell Garrett?’

Agnes made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort. ‘A minute’s exposure to
him
and Sebi’d certainly destroy any evidence.
You
, on the other hand…’

‘Yes?’ said Tom when he realised she wasn’t going to go on.

‘Well, you’re more subtle, more…’ She waved her hand in the air.

‘Yes?’

‘All right, you’re more devious and less scrupulous, more likely to find something.’

Tom decided he rather liked Agnes Croft. He smiled and said, ‘I may or may not be worthy of your flattery… D’you happen to know where Sebi’s staying at the moment?’

‘Yes – with his father.’

‘D’you know his number?’ A nod. ‘Ring him now, tell him you need to talk to him now, here in your office… Go on.’

She found the number, dialled, waited. ‘No answer.’

‘Keep trying, and get him in here if you can.’ He gave her his car phone number and stood up. ‘Keep me in touch.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To his mother’s.’

*

He parked in the road and walked up the tree-lined drive – Bugger! There was a white Nissan outside the house, Sebi’s, he assumed. Nothing to lose, try to bluff him…

He rang the bell and a fresh-faced youth in his late teens with blue eyes and fair hair opened the door. Tom apologised for intruding, explained who he was and showed him his identification.

‘You can ring the Department of Health and check if you like,’ he said.

‘I think I will,’ said Sebi, and shut the door.

He opened it again a few minutes later and said without a great deal of enthusiasm, ‘You’d better come in.’ He led him through the tiled outer hall (the marks had been removed) to an inner hall and then into a living-room. It was elegantly furnished with plenty of books and pictures, although it already held the slight mustiness of disuse.

‘Have a seat.’ Sebi indicated an armchair.

Now for the tricky bit, thought Tom, and told him about Fraser’s visit to himself and Marcus just before his mother’s death.

Sebi stiffened. ‘Are you telling me you’re trying to help the man who murdered my mother?’

‘No, I’m not telling you that, Mr Flint. The allegation was made and we have to look into it whether we like it or not. But we do so from a completely neutral standpoint.’

‘Well, he was lying,’ Sebi said hotly. ‘Lying to try and save his skin.’

‘For what it’s worth,’ said Tom, lying himself now, ‘I think you’re probably right – especially when you consider what happened afterwards.’ He didn’t always like his job.

Sebi said, ‘My mother was absolutely dedicated to her profession, she’d
never
have got mixed up in tacky share dealing.’

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ said Tom, ‘but as I said, once an allegation’s made, we’re bound to investigate it.’

‘I suppose so,’ Sebi said a little more reasonably.

Tom said carefully, ‘Let me be devil’s advocate for a moment. You said your mother wouldn’t have got mixed up in share dealing, but what about after she divorced? She’d have been short of money then.’

‘No, she became even more dedicated after that. I think she wanted to prove that she was as good a professional as my father… She wanted Alkovin to succeed, but she’d never knowingly have promoted a dangerous drug. It simply wasn’t in her.’ He paused. ‘So I don’t see how I can help you, Mr Jones.’

‘I understand you’ve been checking over some of your mother’s effects?’

‘Yes.’ He gave a tight humourless smile. ‘She made me executor and our solicitor thought it might be an idea.’

‘Did she have an address book?’

‘Yes.’ He was on his guard again. ‘Why d’you ask?’

‘Would you mind if I had a look at it?’

‘Yes, I think I would rather. Can you explain why?’

The most delicate moment…

‘I want to check for the names of any stockbrokers.’

It took him a second to work it out. ‘Of all the bloody nerve!’ He stood up. ‘I thought you said you were neutral – you’re assuming her guilt—’

‘Will you listen a moment – please. I believe you’re studying medicine at university yourself, aren’t you?’

A nod.

‘Then you’ll be aware that very often, the best way to test a hypothesis is to try to show the opposite. Then, when you fail, you have powerful evidence that your hypothesis is the truth.’

He watched Sebi work it out, hoping he wouldn’t spot the obvious flaws.

‘All right, but I don’t believe it.’

He quickly left the room and came back a few moments later with a slim book. Tom opened it and flicked the pages – it was well filled.

‘Have the police seen this?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could I keep it for a day or two?’

‘No, I don’t like the idea of that.’

A push too far… ‘Fair enough. I’ll need a little time to look at it here, then.’

He took Sebi’s silence for acquiescence and turned his attention to the book. The obvious thing to do was note down any names that sounded like firms, although his gut feeling was that it was more likely to be under a name like Paul or Stephanie… or maybe he should look at the latest entries for each letter…

He took out his notebook and had reached E when Sebi got up and looked out of the window.

‘It’s Dad, excuse me…’ He left the room again.

Tom thought quickly. Flint senior would almost certainly take a dim view of his presence. Should he take the book and run for it? No… He turned to the very end, where he himself sometimes noted numbers that didn’t fit anywhere else… Sure enough, there were three, headed F, P and one on its own. He scribbled them down and had just put his notebook away when a bullfrog of a man strode into the room.

‘You can hand that over right now,’ he said, standing over Tom with outstretched paw.

‘OK,’ said Tom equably and held it up. It was snatched away.

‘Now, who the hell are you?’

Tom stood up and produced his ID, then watched as the man studied it. He was over six feet, smartly dressed and with a handsome face that was just beginning to run to dissipation. He looked about fifty.

He flicked the card back to Tom. ‘My son said you had a notebook – I’ll trouble you for that as well.’ He held out his hand.

Tom said, ‘I am speaking to Dr Flint, I assume?’

‘
Mister
Flint – I’m a surgeon.’

‘Well, Mr Flint, the address book is yours, or at least, your son’s – but the notebook is mine.’

‘Not the information you wrote in it.’

Tom smiled and shook his head. ‘Your son, who is his mother’s executor, allowed me to copy it, and the notebook and its contents are mine.’

Flint dropped his hand. ‘All right… if that’s your attitude, you can get out.’ He gestured towards the door.

As Tom passed him, Flint grabbed the fingers of his right hand and, bending them apart, forced his arm up behind his back. ‘Get it, Sebi, quick!’

Tom struggled, but his fingers were twisted further apart and his arm yanked up. ‘Keep still… Come on, Sebi…

As Sebi reluctantly came forward, Tom glanced down, took aim and slammed his heel on to Flint’s instep as hard as he could – the instep being the second most sensitive body part of the human male.

Flint gave a gratifying howl and collapsed on to the floor, nursing it.

‘What have you done?’ said Sebi.

‘Stepped on his toe,’ said Tom. ‘Excuse me.’

Sebi went over to his father as Tom left the room. ‘That’s assault,’ he shouted after him. ‘I’ll have the police on to you for this.’

Next to Sebi’s Nissan was a very smart black Mercedes sports car, the sort that quietly makes a Porsche look like a toy. Being a surgeon evidently paid even better than a rep on the make, Tom reflected.