An Early Grave (17 page)

‘That would be great, Georgina, thanks.’

‘Can’t promise he’ll shed any more light on the topic of Justin, but I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you again. Give me your number, and I’ll call you.’

Since Callum did not possess a mobile phone, Tara wrote down her number on a sheet of Georgina Maitland personal stationery.

‘Before you go, I have something for you, Tara.’ Georgina went to her desk and retrieved a hard-bound book with her picture on the dust cover. ‘My latest.’ She quickly scribbled something on the first page and gave it to Tara. ‘I hope you like it, and perhaps find it useful.’

‘That’s very kind, thank you,’ said Tara, opening the cover of
Live
Your
Life
to view Georgina’s inscription. ‘Best of Luck, Tara,’ it read. Underneath she’d signed it ‘Georgina.’

CHAPTER 26

Georgina was true to her word and within an hour had her PA, Katrina, called Tara with the address of a restaurant in Covent Garden and a time of precisely seven-fifty.

‘We have a few hours to kill,’ said Callum, a peculiarly different Callum. ‘Do you think we can manage to get hold of Ollie Rutherford?’

They were re-tracing their steps to Tottenham Court Road Station. Tara’s feet were beginning to throb. High heels were more of a rarity for her these days. Thank goodness, she thought, for flat heels in her normal day job. If she still had a job by next week.

‘I’ll leave that decision to you,’ she said curtly.

‘What’s wrong? Did you not like Georgina?’

‘Well, I can see how she’s got to the top in business, especially the lifestyle business. She was upbeat about everything, even when she was supposedly crying her eyes out. Hard to find that degree of optimism in my game.’

‘She is great though.’

‘Has the knack of controlling a conversation, except when I asked a question. She didn’t like that. Did you see the look she gave me? And she managed to avoid answering.’

‘We didn’t learn much, but at least you got to meet her.’

It was going to be difficult getting him to say anything negative about Georgina.

‘Actually, I think we’ve learned quite a lot,’ she said to deliberately contradict him.

‘You do? Like what?’

‘I think we can be certain that Justin Kingsley is still alive.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Georgina’s reluctance to answer the question. If she really believed Justin was dead, surely she had nothing to lose by saying so? If she believes that he is still alive but has nothing to back it up, considering they were close once, you’d think she would have jumped to defend her theory. Instead, she side-stepped the question completely. I think she knows that Justin is very much alive, but she doesn’t want us to find him. And one more thing, as far as the UK police and Interpol are concerned, Justin Kingsley is not listed as a missing person. For some reason, unknown, I think he is merely lying low.’

‘So therefore I’m right; he is the killer?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

She gave Callum the use of her phone to make contact with Ollie Rutherford. By the time they’d reached the tube station he’d arranged to meet up for drinks at a pub off Charing Cross Road. Apparently, Ollie was bound for an evening at the theatre with his girlfriend. Callum and Tara were welcome to join him in his pre-theatre drinks session.

When Callum returned her phone, she noticed there had been a flurry of activity: three missed calls and four texts. On the tube to Leicester Square she scrolled through the text messages. The first was from Aisling, having heard from Kate that she, Tara, had gone off with that strange bloke from Treadwater. ‘RU Ok?’ Was the main thrust of the message. The second one also came from Aisling. ‘WAYN? WAYD? Where are you now? What are you doing? The third text was Kate to say that she’d told Aisling, and Aisling wasn’t pleased. Tara smiled at their wit. The fourth message reminded her exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it. It came from DS Murray. The owner of the house rented to the Lithuanian girls on Stanley Road, including Audra Bagdonas, was none other than Teodor Sokolowski. She wondered still why Callum had a note of the man’s name in his box-file.

She replied to all of her messages, telling Aisling that she was fine and strolling around London. The missed calls she ignored; they too, were from Aisling.

Ollie Rutherford was tall and very sure of himself. He looked Tara up and down with something akin to lurid mischief in his grey eyes.

‘Delighted to meet you, Tara,’ he said, or rather shouted above the din of the pub, crammed with Friday evening revellers, either on their way home or on their way out for the evening.

‘Glad to see old Callum’s got back on the bike, so-to-speak.’

First impressions. Tara didn’t like him. He was cocky, arrogant in the way he looked at people, her in particular, and the kind of man she most despised. He reminded her of someone she knew at Oxford, and it hadn’t ended well.

Callum and Ollie went off to force their way to the bar, while Tara sat with Ollie’s girlfriend, Stephanie. A brunette, close-cropped hair, slim in a short black dress revealing much of bleach-white skin and who seemed content to browse her phone and ignore her company. Tara hoped that Callum still realised the purpose of the meeting and had managed to put his rehearsed list of questions to Rutherford.

‘Callum tells me you’re looking into the deaths of our old mates,’ said Rutherford, setting a glass of white wine and a bottle of Budweiser on their small round table.’

By his remark she wasn’t sure if Callum had let slip about her being a police officer.

‘Don’t you think it’s odd that three young people, all graduates of Latimer College, have died in tragic circumstances?’ Tara asked.

‘Absolutely.’ He took a long drink from the bottle of beer. Callum returned with a sparkling water for Tara and his pint of Guinness. Rutherford maintained a smile, aiming it directly at Tara. He was good-looking, she had to admit, fair hair combed back on his head, although there were signs of a receding tide-mark. She already knew him to have been a rower, and it appeared he had continued with some form of physical pursuit. No signs of any spread. She imagined a well-developed six-pack beneath his white shirt and red tie with yellow pin-stripe.

‘Of course, I didn’t know the Asian chap, what’s his name? But Ramsey, silly sod, went to school with Hyde and me. Absolutely tragic.’ Stephanie seemed to exist only in parallel to her partner, such was the draw of Facebook, Twitter or whatever forum she was currently engrossed.

‘Have you ever set eyes on Justin Kingsley since the night he disappeared?’ Callum asked.

‘Dead surely?’

‘We don’t know for certain.’

‘What did Georgina say? Her fault he scarpered in the first place. Strange chap anyway, don’t you think?’

‘We were a strange bunch,’ Callum replied. ‘We weren’t all mates together; more like we were just connected one with another.’

‘You mean like that actor chap, Kevin Bacon, six degrees of separation?’

Tara took to her water. Some minutes back she was already wishing it was a pint of vodka. This guy irritated the heck out of her.

‘I suppose so,’ said Callum.

‘Can you think of any reason why Justin would want to kill someone?’ Tara asked.

‘Same as the rest of us,’ said Rutherford, putting the bottle to his lips. ‘Rebellion,’ he added after a swig. ‘We all have something we’d like to put right, don’t we?’

‘We do not all commit murder,’ she replied.

‘True. But Kingsley had a lot going on in his head by the time he took his leave. Maybe now he feels he can change things that are wrong in his life by bumping people off.’

‘I don’t see a motive in what you say. What did he have going on when he disappeared?’

‘His split with Georgina. I only heard about that after he had gone, because Georgina was so upset.’

‘Anything else?’

‘His beef with his old man. Since he was a kid Justin was destined for the law. It’s what his father did, his mother and grandfather. Wouldn’t be surprised if old granny had a slot in the Bailey, too.’

‘You think that Justin felt pressured into becoming a lawyer? Did he have something else in mind?’

‘Rowing, certainly. That’s where I first met him, on the river. Interested in sailing, too. Not much of an academic when you think about it?’

‘Why murder Tilly?’ Tara asked.

Ollie Rutherford’s face paled; his mouth fell open.

‘Tilly?’ He looked in horror at Callum. ‘You think she was murdered? It was an accident surely? Is that why you’re doing this, Callum?’

Callum told him about the card he’d received on the day Tilly died. Ollie looked sick.

‘And you think Kingsley is the murderer?’

‘He’s a suspect,’ said Tara.

‘You sound like a copper,’ said Rutherford. Tara didn’t respond. ‘If Justin murdered someone as sweet as Tilly, he would have no qualms about killing any one of us. Thanks, Callum, hell of a reunion.’

They took their leave of Ollie Rutherford, and his less talkative friend, and made their way to Covent Garden. It didn’t take long to track down the brasserie in King Street, where they were, hopefully, to meet with the Tory junior minister at the Department of Health, Anthony Egerton-Hyde. When they stepped inside the restaurant the maitre’d asked if they had a reservation. Easy to see that they had little chance of getting a table. Callum explained to the fraught looking man, Italian by the sound of him, that they were intending to meet with Anthony Egerton-Hyde. He disappeared into the dining room and a few moments later returned and briefly addressed them.

‘He is coming,’ he said, his attention already switching to another couple waiting beside them.

Tara noticed a tall man in a dark suit and cream shirt without a tie, his sandy hair thinning on top, weaving his way through the tables towards them. She spotted Georgina at the back of the restaurant, chatting with five others, three women and two men, seated around a large circular table. Her appearance had changed since their meeting earlier in the day, the white top replaced with an expensive black and silver affair and long sparkling earrings. Suddenly, Georgina appeared to gaze sternly at Tara. It wasn’t entirely hostile, but Tara got the feeling that if they were to meet again alone, Georgina might not be the jovial host she portrayed when they’d first met. The two women stared at each other until Tara heard the man speaking.

‘Callum, so good to see you. Must be two years since we last met.’

‘Three,’ Callum replied, shaking the politician’s hand keenly. ‘This is Tara, a friend of mine.’

‘Delighted to meet you, Tara. Sorry it has to be brief, but I hope Georgie explained? Really a business dinner with a few friends, all for a charity we support.’

‘It’s OK, we understand,’ said Callum. ‘Thanks for sparing the time.’

‘Georgie tells me you have a theory about the deaths of our old chums?’

Like any government minister, he had been briefed prior to his meeting. Georgina, Tara thought, had probably told him to play down the conspiracy theories.

She let Callum tell his story, while she watched Egerton-Hyde’s reactions. They stepped outside, it being much quieter in the street than the incessant chatter and laughter within the restaurant. Tara could see the attraction for Georgina in this man. Tall, matching her height, well-spoken and supremely confident. She’d read somewhere in the last few days that he was tipped for high office. Already, he was one of the youngest men in the present government. A junior minister at thirty-one. A highly rated pair, Georgina and Anthony. She watched him, while Callum explained his concern about the re-emergence of Justin Kingsley. At first Anthony showed little emotion in his fine features, but he did appear to take seriously what Callum was saying. His response, however, was much the same as they’d heard from Georgina and Ollie Rutherford.

‘But why would Justin want to harm any of them, Callum? They were his friends, except for the Chinese chap. None of us knew him that well.’

‘I can’t explain it either,’ said Callum. ‘But Latimer College and his disappearance are the only things that connect all of the killings.

‘Ollie Rutherford suggested that Justin may be aggrieved from his break-up with Georgina,’ said Tara, past caring whether any of these people felt she was poking her nose in where it didn’t belong.

‘Really? If that’s the case then maybe he’s out to get me? After all, I married Georgina. But that’s ridiculous; we didn’t get together until after we left Oxford. That was ages after Justin disappeared.’

‘The deaths are connected in some way, Anthony. I can feel it. Justin is the only one shrouded in mystery.’

‘Bit unfair though. The guy’s not around to defend himself. He may well be dead.’

‘If we can prove that he is dead then we’ll have to look elsewhere for our murderer.’

Anthony looked quite shaken by this remark. His rather fixed smile ebbed away; they’d given him something other than the affairs of government to think about. Tara wondered how much of the subject he had discussed with his wife. They were about to spend an entire weekend together, according to Georgina, when they could talk all about it.

‘I’m sorry I have to cut this short, and unfortunately Georgina and I are heading to the country for a few days or else we could have met up again. What are you going to do now, Callum? Have you a plan of action to find Justin?’

‘Nothing much beyond meeting up with you guys,’ Callum replied. ‘We’re going down to Canterbury tomorrow to see where Peter was killed; hopefully we can speak with some of his colleagues. And I want to visit Charlotte on Sunday.’

‘Charlotte? Do you think she’ll be able to help?’ Tara sensed some alarm in Egerton-Hyde’s voice.

‘She’s the only surviving person we have yet to see,’ Callum replied.

‘What do you mean, the only surviving person?’

‘If Justin is responsible for all of this, I think it has something to do with the people who were together on the ski trip to Austria in our final year. Apart from Georgina, Ollie, you and me, with Peter, Jian and Tilly gone, that leaves only Charlotte. If Justin is the killer, one of us, or perhaps all of us, have wronged him in some way.’