Fatal Act (30 page)

Sam threw her a sympathetic grimace. Geraldine knew straight away what the sergeant was thinking: Reg was a patronising moron.

T
rying to ignore her superior officer’s annoying manner, Geraldine wondered if Reg might actually be right. He was the senior investigating officer on the case, after all, and a chief inspector. An experienced detective, he must know that he was putting his reputation on the line by insisting Piers was guilty. If he was wrong, he would have to answer for it to those in authority further up the chain of command. All the same, she struggled to believe the arrogant director was capable of resorting to acts of such crass brutality, and he had appeared to care about his son.

R
eg began listing his reasons for believing Piers was guilty. He finished by reminding Geraldine about the accusation that the suspect was dangerous.

‘A girl came to the station to accuse him of violent assault,’ he reminded her. ‘She warned us he was going to kill someone, and now look what’s happened.’

‘The girl was frightened by a drunken brawl,’ Geraldine replied. She had interviewed the girl. Reg hadn’t even seen her. ‘She was an aggrieved girlfriend. No, she wasn’t even a girlfriend. It was nothing more than a casual relationship, but I dare say she was expecting more than that and came here out of spite when he dumped her. That’s all it was. And we still haven’t explained his disappearing acts from the crime scenes.’

Reg grinned. ‘We’re about to find out exactly how he managed that.’

H
e was excited and insisted on accompanying Geraldine to arrest Piers.

‘It’s about time we wrapped this up,’ he said.

Geraldine kept her reservations to herself for now. She wasn’t happy about the way things were developing, but she remembered her own conclusions about Sam and was reluctant to encourage her own detective chief inspector to write her off as a trouble maker who didn’t support her senior investigating officer. And there was still the chance he might be right.

G
eraldine thought Piers looked surprised to see her back on his doorstep. He maintained his outward composure until he saw Reg. Then he swore aggressively. He must have realised the presence of the detective chief inspector signalled that the visit had a serious import.

‘We are here with a dual purpose,’ Reg began in his high-handed way. ‘May we come in?’

‘You can say what you have to say here.’

Piers crossed his arms, adopting a belligerent pose as though to prevent Reg from entering the house.

‘I’m afraid we have some bad news, Mr Trevelyan.’

P
iers frowned. He hadn’t expected that.

‘It concerns your son.’

‘Zak?’ Piers started forward. ‘Zak? What’s the stupid boy done now?’

When he heard the news that his son was dead his expression didn’t alter, but all the colour drained from his face. He stood absolutely still. With his pale face and rigid figure he could have been turned to stone.

‘Zak dead?’ he repeated at last. ‘No, I don’t believe it.’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Piers seemed to crumple.

‘He was all I had. He was my son.’

With a curious animalistic wail he doubled over suddenly as though he had been kicked in the guts. He didn’t even remonstrate when Reg arrested him on suspicion of murder. Geraldine felt a rush of pity for this man who was accustomed to being in control.

R
eg ushered his suspect down the path towards the car. Piers’ hands were visibly trembling, and he walked with a shaky gait. He seemed to want to talk about Zak, but his words were incoherent.

‘We didn’t always see eye to eye. But we were – we had a strong relationship. Our bond – Oh God, my son, my son –’

Reg gazed speculatively at the bereaved father as though calculating how genuine his reaction was. Geraldine saw the anguish in his eyes and felt like crying herself. She wondered if anyone could be that good an actor.

‘He was my son,’ he repeated then went on with a sudden burst of energy, ‘Who did this? Who?’ He gasped like a man drowning. ‘Where is he? Where is my son? I want to see my son.’

‘Of course. We’ll take you to him now. We need a formal identification.’

‘Identification?’

‘Mind your head, sir,’ Reg said, gesturing for Piers to climb into the car.

B
y the time they reached the mortuary, Piers had recovered his outward equanimity, his face had regained its natural hue, and he had stopped shaking.

‘You need someone to identify the body?’ he asked with a return of his characteristic authority. ‘So you’re not even certain it’s my son. This could be a mistake. It might not be him at all.’

All at once he grew talkative, and slightly hysterical. He didn’t once refer to Zak by name, as though keeping his name out of the discussion might somehow protect the boy.

T
he visit to the mortuary was painful as such visits usually were. Reg had returned to work leaving Geraldine to make the arrangements. By the time they reached the viewing room, Piers had persuaded himself the body couldn’t possibly be his son. Even Geraldine’s gentle reminder that she had met Zak didn’t shake his conviction.

‘You didn’t know him, not really. You’d only met him briefly a couple of times. It’s easy to be mistaken. It could be anyone,’ he insisted, with unnatural composure. ‘No one could want to harm Zak, unless –’

‘Unless?’

He turned troubled eyes to Geraldine. ‘Unless someone wanted to hurt me.’

Geraldine shook her head, astonished by his narcissism. He really seemed to believe the world revolved around him.

P
iers didn’t speak. There was no need. As soon as he caught sight of his dead son his mask of control dissolved, every muscle taut as he struggled not to break down completely. He nodded once and turned away, unable to look at the body. He didn’t cry, but tears slid down his cheeks. Zak was covered up to his chin. Only his face had been uncovered for the identification. He had been cleaned up but his head was shaved, exposing ghastly bruising and pulpy skin where he had been beaten to death. Piers didn’t say a word as she led him back to the waiting car. He didn’t protest when she handcuffed him before manoeuvring him into the back seat. He seemed completely stunned.

A
s they drove back to the station, Geraldine pondered over what Piers had said earlier. She had dismissed it as narcissistic fantasy. But if anyone had wanted to hurt Piers, they couldn’t have achieved their objective with greater success. Anna, Bethany, and now Zak – was it possible they had been killed in a macabre crusade against the one man who had cared for them all? The shattered man in handcuffs might not be the killer as Reg believed. He might be the victim.

G
ERALDINE
WAS
SURPRISED
TO
see Piers’ solicitor was a young blonde who looked as though she had just stepped off a film set. A closer look revealed a sharpness in her expression that put Geraldine on her guard. She explained that Piers’ solicitor had sent her.

‘Terry is away,’ she explained.

The lawyer was docile enough while Reg began to question her client. His initial shock had quickly given way to anger.

‘I’ll say it again, Inspector. If you really think I killed my son, you must be completely barking. It’s a monstrous suggestion. He was my son.’

Despite the circumstances, Geraldine felt a flutter of excitement as she gazed into his compelling eyes. Notwithstanding his age, there was something undeniably seductive about him.

‘L
et’s go over this one more time,’ Reg said, firmly stepping in to assert his authority over the situation.

‘My client isn’t going to repeat himself interminably,’ the solicitor announced in a penetrating, nasal voice.

Reg ignored her. ‘Last night,’ he said. ‘Between ten and twelve. Tell me again where you were.’

‘I was at home and before you ask again, I wasn’t alone. I’ve already told you Gemma was with me. We were going through an audition piece she’s preparing. You can ask her.’

‘We intend to. Where can we find her?’

L
ike all the girls involved with Piers, Gemma was young and pretty. It didn’t take Geraldine long to confirm that she had spent Friday evening with him, ‘rehearsing a speech’. She had arrived at his house shortly before eight. When Geraldine asked what time she had left, the girl coloured slightly.

‘I stayed there.’

‘All night?’

‘Yes. It was a long script –’

‘I’m sure it was. Now think carefully before you answer, Gemma. Did Piers leave the house at any time during the evening?’

‘No.’

‘Are you quite sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s no possibility he could have slipped out without you noticing?’

But Geraldine knew it was hopeless.

B
ack at the station, she reported back to Reg.

‘Was she lying, do you think?’

Geraldine shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, but who knows? It’s impossible to say for certain. I mean, I could imagine him being very persuasive, and doubtless he can pick a young woman who’s easy to manipulate from his army of hangers on.’

Reg nodded. ‘Yes he seems to have no problem attracting women.’

The unexpected bitterness in his voice startled Geraldine. She wondered whether his opinion of Piers might subconsciously be influenced by envy. A rumour had been circulating that Reg’s wife had left him. Geraldine didn’t know if there was any substance to the claim. If it was true, it might account for the detective chief inspector’s angry insistence that Piers was guilty. More likely, he was under pressure from his boss to sort out the high profile murder case.

C
ertainly Piers had been closely associated with all three victims. Geraldine wondered if Gemma might be next.

‘Would you like me to talk to him? He might be more open when he’s talking to a woman.’

‘Go on then. See what you can find out. I didn’t get anywhere with him.’ Reg glanced at his watch. ‘That bloody brief of his has gone so now would be a good time.’

With a nod to show she understood, Geraldine hurried away to speak to Piers. She found him slumped on the bench in his cell. He appeared to be dozing as she went in and didn’t stir when she made no attempt to close the door quietly so as not to disturb him.

S
he called his name and he opened one eye a slit.

‘Mmm?’

There was something reptilian about him as he stared at her.

‘Mr Trevelyan,’ she repeated, leaning forward confidentially. ‘You mentioned you thought your girlfriends and your son might have been murdered as a way of getting at you.’

‘Bethany wasn’t my girlfriend,’ he protested wearily, but Geraldine took no notice.

‘Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt you?’

He shook his head and closed his eyes again, leaning his head right back so that he was facing the ceiling.

‘You must have rivals who are jealous of your brilliant talent and success.’

Geraldine forced herself to appear enthusiastic, as though meeting Piers was the highlight of her life. If it would help her to worm the truth out of him, she was happy to toady to his huge ego. She hoped she hadn’t laid it on too thick, but he was accustomed to adulation and took her flattery at face value.

H
is shoulders relaxed slightly as he said, ‘The women who imagine they have a grievance against me are legion.’ He sat up and gave a resigned smile. ‘There’s not a great deal I can do about it. When you have talent like mine, you have to pay the price.’

Geraldine ignored that and pressed on, reminding Piers that he had suspected the killings might actually be veiled attacks against him.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That’s possible. Especially now.’

She understood he was referring to the death of his son.

‘Does that mean you have an idea who might be carrying out these attacks?’

He looked thoughtfully at her for a second, holding her gaze, before answering.

‘If I had the faintest idea who was responsible for the deaths of my son, and of a woman I loved, do you really think I would hesitate for one moment to tell you everything I could? I wonder what you people think of me, really I do. You must think I’m some kind of monster.’

‘M
r Trevelyan, if you didn’t kill them, we need your help to try and figure out who did.’

‘You really have no idea who’s responsible?’

‘Honestly? No. Do you?’

He shook his head. ‘How can I help?’

‘There must be a reason why someone has suddenly started targeting people close to you. We need a list of anyone who might have held a grudge against you, particularly anyone who might have felt slighted recently. We’re already checking those with a history of violence lately released from prison who might have had contact with you in the past.’

He nodded. ‘I understand. I’ll let you have a list of names as soon as I can come up with one, although I might need to go home to check.’

‘D
id Zak have any particular friends he might have confided in? A favourite tutor perhaps? Or an old school friend?’

Piers thought for a moment. ‘Not that I’m aware of. He didn’t really confide in me. You know what teenagers are like.’

When Geraldine asked him what he knew about Darius Cooper he blinked in surprise.

‘Cooper?’ he repeated with a puzzled frown. ‘I haven’t heard that name in a long time. Darius was my second wife’s brother. He’s Zak’s uncle. We lost touch a long time ago, when Ella died.’ He sighed, and repeated sadly, ‘a long time ago.’

‘What can you tell me about him?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

Geraldine repeated her question and he shook his head.

‘To be honest, I can’t remember him that well. I couldn’t even tell you if he’s still alive. He probably died during a stunt. But like I said, I haven’t seen him for about fifteen years. So, what can I tell you about him? Well, I remember he was very protective of Ella, my second wife.’ A wistful expression crossed his face, softening the shrewdness in his eyes. ‘Not that I blamed him for that. Ella was – special.’ He sighed. ‘After she died we never saw him again. He didn’t even turn up to her funeral.’