Fatal Quest (34 page)

‘Then you're even stupider than I thought you were,' Naylor told him. ‘Smithers kept the people he had working for him under some sort of control, which was one of the reasons it was possible to police the area in which he had an influence. Now he's dead, it's anarchy out there on the streets.'

‘So it's a case of it bein' better to deal with the devil you know than the devil you don't, is it?' Woodend asked.

‘Essentially, yes,' Naylor agreed. ‘But I didn't call you here today to discuss Smithers's death.'

‘Didn't you, sir?'

‘No. What I want you to do now is to give me your full report on another death – that of Pearl Jones.'

No, you don't, Woodend thought. What you
want
is to find out if I know what I'm not
supposed
to know.

‘That night, in the Charleston Club, Pearl Jones took a picture of Ron Smithers,' he said aloud. ‘But she did it sneakily, so that he wouldn't know he was bein' photographed.'

‘Why did she do it “sneakily”?'

Because she suspected that he might be her father, but she didn't want him to be aware of that until she'd had a chance to talk it over with her best friend, Rachael, Woodend thought.

‘I don't know,' he said.

‘Then all this is pure speculation,' Naylor said.

‘You're quite right, sir,' Woodend agreed. ‘An' since you don't want to waste your time listenin' to speculation, may I go now?'

‘No, you may
not
go,' Naylor told him. ‘I still wish to hear the rest of your report.'

‘All right,' Woodend agreed amiably. ‘Unfortunately for Pearl, Smithers
did
realize he'd been photographed, an', as a result, he panicked. You see, the reason he'd chosen that particular nightclub, which was a bit of a dive, to be honest, was because he was sure there'd be nobody there who'd recognize him. Or at least, nobody who
mattered
. But here was this young coloured kid, takin' his picture. An' what conclusion was he to draw from that?'

‘You tell me.'

‘That one of his enemies
did
suspect he might be there, an' had sent Pearl to get the proof. Now your average, run-of-the-mill criminal might just have taken the camera off her, but our Ron was a bit of a nutter, an' he decided the only safe thing was to kill Pearl.'

‘What I still don't see is why it should have bothered him in the slightest that anyone knew he was there,' Naylor said.

Bloody liar! Woodend thought. You
do
know the reason for it. But you want to find out if
I
know it, too.

‘What bothered him was that certain people might find out who his
companion
was,' he said.

‘His … er … companion?'

‘That's right. He didn't want people to know that he was there with Peggy Cathcart. You see, it would appear that Peggy likes a bit of rough, an' Smithers just fitted the bill nicely. He even carried a razor – which he wouldn't normally have done – because he knew that would impress her. But he knew he was takin' a big chance by goin' out with Peggy, and he was afraid that if the affair came to light – if Commander Cathcart was publicly humiliated – the Met would feel compelled to take some kind of action against him. In other words, he was worried the top brass would decide that while they'd be reluctant to get rid of him – because it
is
always better to deal with the devil you know – he'd simply have to go.'

The second door – the object of Naylor's involuntary glance earlier – opened, and Peggy Cathcart stepped into the room. She was dressed demurely, and had the expression of a true penitent on her face.

‘Hello, Charlie,' she said, with a choke in her voice.

‘Hello, Mrs Cathcart,' Woodend replied stonily.

‘You're quite correct in stating that she was there that night,' Naylor admitted. ‘And you're also right that she was having an affair with Smithers.' He turned to the woman. ‘Isn't that true, Peggy?'

‘It's true,' Peggy Cathcart agreed, looking down at the floor. ‘I was very foolish, and what I did was very wrong. I don't know how I'll ever be able to forgive myself.'

‘But she didn't know what Smithers was going to do, which, I think you'll agree, makes her basically an innocent party,' Naylor said.

‘An innocent party!' Woodend repeated. ‘That's the biggest load of old bollocks I've heard in a long time.'

‘Please don't be so hard on me, Charlie,' Peggy Cathcart begged. ‘I did try to do the right thing, you know. As soon as Ron … as Smithers … told me what he'd done to that poor girl, I rang Scotland Yard.'

‘Aye, you did,' Woodend agreed. ‘An' I must admit, you sounded very upset over the phone.'

‘I
was
upset, Charlie! I was totally devastated. I just didn't know
what
to do with myself.'

‘But it didn't take you long before you were able to pull yourself together again, did it?'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘The invitation you gave us to Sunday lunch wasn't your husband's idea at all, was it? It was yours.'

‘No, I promise you it
was
all Arthur's idea. As you know, he's always had a high opinion of you, and …'

‘An' the
reason
that you invited us was so that you'd have the opportunity to con my Joan into invitin'
you
back to our flat.'

‘I assure you, Charlie …'

‘Because that would give you the chance to question me on what progress I was makin' in the investigation.'

‘Even if that were true, you could hardly blame Peggy for acting as she did on that occasion,' Naylor said. ‘She was, quite simply, doing no more than fighting for her own survival.'

‘Oh, is
that
what she was doin'?' Woodend asked.

‘Of course. Having been caught up in a nightmare which was not at all of her own doing, she was simply making every effort she could to stop it from dragging her down.'

‘More bollocks!' Woodend said. ‘The truth is that, once she got over the initial shock of the murder, she rather
enjoyed
playin' the dangerous game that followed. After all, it's not as if anybody important was killed. The kid was only a
darkie
, wasn't she?'

Peggy Cathcart suppressed a sob. ‘You're not being at all fair to me, Charlie,' she said.

‘We all know what she should have done,' Woodend said, unmoved. ‘It wasn't nearly enough for her just to report the murder – she should also have given us the name of the murderer.'

‘Yes, yes, we do all know what Peggy
should have
done,' Naylor said impatiently. ‘But if you put yourself in her shoes for just one moment, I think you'll understand why she didn't.'

‘Will I?' Woodend asked. ‘Well, let me give it a try.' He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, he said, ‘Was it maybe because she was too frightened?'

‘Of course it was,' Naylor replied.

‘I tried to be brave, Charlie,' Peggy Cathcart said tearfully. ‘Believe me, I really tried.'

‘So when did you finally manage to get over this fear of yours?' Woodend wondered.

‘I haven't got over it. Don't you understand that? I don't think I ever
will
get over it.'

‘Well, I am surprised to hear that,' Woodend admitted. ‘Because you certainly didn't look very frightened last Friday night, when I saw you out on the town with Smithers again.'

The revelation shook Deputy Commissioner Naylor to his core. More than shook him – he couldn't have looked worse if he'd been hit by a bus.

‘Is that true, Peggy?' he asked, with a slight wobble in his voice. ‘Were you out on the town with Ron Smithers as recently as
last Friday night
?'

For the briefest of moments, it looked as if Peggy Cathcart would try to brazen it out by claiming that Woodend had made the whole thing up.

Then another tear ran down her cheek, and she said, ‘He
made
me go out with him. I didn't
want
to – but he made me.'

‘Which, of course, he couldn't have done if he'd already been behind bars,' Woodend pointed out.

The mask of penitence melted from Peggy Cathcart's face and was replaced by a look of haughty anger.

‘You don't know who you're dealing with here, you insignificant little man,' she told Woodend. ‘I have money, I have influence – and I have the unquestioning support of every single policeman in the Met who counts for anything.'

She turned to Naylor for confirmation, but all the deputy commissioner said was, ‘I think you'd better go now, Peggy.'

‘Robert …' Peggy Cathcart said plaintively.

‘We'll talk later,' Naylor replied flatly.

‘You'll live to rue the day you ever crossed me,' Peggy Cathcart told Woodend. ‘I promise you that.'

Then she turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

‘Funny you didn't know about her seein' Smithers again, isn't it, sir?' Woodend asked mildly. ‘I'd have thought your crack Flyin' Squad surveillance team would have told you all about it.'

‘Be careful, Sergeant,' Naylor warned. ‘You're treading on very thin ice.'

‘Oh, it's
me
that's treadin' on thin ice, is it?' Woodend asked. ‘Funnily enough, I'd have thought the ice was quite solid beneath my feet, because – unlike you – I've not been involved in an elaborate cover-up.' He paused for a second, then said, ‘Was Commander Cathcart himself part of it, an' all?'

‘No, he wasn't,' Naylor said. ‘He knows nothing at all about what went on. It was
Mrs Cathcart
who – as an old friend – came to me for help and advice.'

‘An' was it just
advice
you gave her?' Woodend wondered. ‘Or did you slip her a length between the sheets, as well?'

‘You are being grossly impertinent,' Naylor growled.

‘Or, in other words, that's
exactly
what you did,' Woodend said. ‘When will you be issuin' the warrant for Mrs Cathcart's arrest?'

‘We won't be. There is simply not enough evidence for us to mount a successful prosecution.'

‘Not enough evidence! For God's sake, we've both just heard her confess she was there!'

‘And what if she retracts it all later? What if she says that we bullied her into that confession? Just picture how frail and vulnerable she'd look, sitting there in the dock. By the second day of her trial, she'd have all the jurors thinking we were absolute brutes.'

‘Then don't use her confession,' Woodend said. ‘Bloody hell, there's evidence enough without that. Now Ron Smithers is out of the way, there'll be no shortage of witnesses willin' to come forward, an' besides—'

‘It is not going to happen, Sergeant,' Naylor said firmly. ‘And if you are foolish enough to attempt to mount another case on your own – against Peggy, this time – I shall be forced to take action to counter that attempt, not the least of which will be to deny this meeting ever took place.'

‘Why?' Woodend demanded. ‘Was she
such
a good screw that you're prepared to abandon everythin' you're supposed to believe in – everythin' you've sworn to uphold – just to protect her?'

‘I'm not doing it for her,' Naylor said.

‘Then who are you doin' it for?'

‘For Arthur Cathcart. Have you thought about what such a prosecution would do to him? It would ruin his career. Do you
want
that?'

No, Woodend thought, I don't. He's a decent man, who's always treated me well, an' I'd hate to see him destroyed.

‘There's one thing that
does
have to happen,' he said aloud.

‘And what might that be?'

‘Commander Cathcart has to be told exactly what his wife has been gettin' up to.'

‘Are you mad?' Naylor exploded. ‘Have you gone completely out of your mind?'

‘He has to be told,' Woodend repeated. ‘He may decide to forgive her, or he may decide to divorce her. That's his choice. But he
has to be
told – an' if you won't do it, I will.'

‘I'll tell him,' Naylor said. ‘It will sound better coming from me, a friend, than it would coming from you, a mere subordinate. But I want you to know that the fact you've
made
me do it won't be forgotten, Sergeant,' he added menacingly.

‘I'm sure it won't,' Woodend agreed. ‘I'm sure you'll lie awake at night, tossin' an' turnin' at the thought of it. But you'll do it, anyway.'

‘But I'll do it anyway,' Naylor agreed.

‘Good,' Woodend said. ‘Have we now reached the point in the conversation where you tell me you'd like me to submit my resignation?'

‘We have.'

‘I thought that might be the case,' Woodend said. ‘But, just as a matter of interest, would you mind tellin' me on what
grounds
you think my resignation's called for?'

‘Do you
need
to ask that? I can't even begin to list the number of regulations you've ridden roughshod over.'

‘I also made a case against a murderer.'

‘And then connived in his own murder.'

‘You can't prove that, however hard you try. An' anyway, if you'd done your job as you should have done it, he'd have been safely under arrest by the time of his death, wouldn't he?'

‘If you leave the Force voluntarily, I'll see to it that you're furnished with glowing references,' Naylor said, sidestepping the point. ‘And there'll be lots of new opportunities for you, once you've resigned.'

‘Like what, for example?'