Name To a Face (18 page)

Harding had little appetite for lunch. Chief Inspector Unsworth, on the other hand, attacked his double order of toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches with a trencherman’s vigour, whilst eyeing the Café Kreutzkamm’s cake display with dessert clearly in mind. Acerbic observations on the shortcomings of the Dutch capital and variations on a theme of how much he envied Harding his Riviera existence had delayed an explanation of what he actually wanted so long it seemed it might never come. But with one sandwich swallowed and the second commenced in slightly less urgent style, he came to the point at last, albeit by an indirect route.

“Which way did you vote in the Common Market referendum, Mr. Harding-back in 1975?” Harding was too bemused by the question at first even to attempt an answer. And Unsworth saved him the bother by snapping his fingers suddenly. “Hold on. Of course. You were born in 1958. So, just too young to vote in ’ seventy-five.” This, Harding could only assume, was a bizarre method of telling him that Unsworth knew more about him than he might have supposed. “Well, I voted no. Would again if they gave me the chance. Don’t let the Europol credentials fool you. I’d pull us out tomorrow if it was up to me. More corrupt than your average banana republic, that outfit in Brussels. Put a stop to one scam and ten more sprout in its place. What’s that stuff you gardening types go in fear of? Bondweed?”

“Bindweed.”

“That’s it. Tendrils spreading under the earth faster than you can dig ’ em up. That ’s exactly how it feels fighting corruption in the EU, take it from me. Thankless and hopeless. But… we soldier on.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“It can take years to crack just one case. You have to be patient, persistent and pragmatic. The three Ps. I swear by ’em. They’ve always stood me in good stead. You could say it’s the third P we’re here to explore.”

“Pragmatism?”

“Exactly.”

Harding sighed. “I’m not with you, Chief Inspector.”

“No. But you soon will be. Would it surprise you to learn that Starburst International is a conduit for millions of euros in fraudulently claimed EU grants?”

It did surprise Harding, though not as much as he tried to pretend. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

“Come off it. ’Course you do. You don’t think Barney Tozer funded his champagne lifestyle out of timeshares and tourism. That’s just… window-dressing. Starburst’s real business is siphoning cash out of Brussels. And it’s a high-turnover business, believe you me. We’ve been watching them for years. Watching them walk away with a chunk of everyone’s taxes-including yours.”

“Why haven’t you stopped them?”

“Because proof-in a system where you never know who’s on the take-is tough to come by. The sort that would stand up in court, anyway. Whybrow, Tozer’s moneyman, is a smart operator. Too smart for most of my colleagues.”

“But not for you?”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s Tozer’s death that’s given us an opening. See, I’m not two bits interested in why he was murdered. This Hayley Foxton they’re looking for? She doesn’t figure in my plans. No, it’s the
fact
of his death that’s important. It creates… instability. Which I’m hoping to exploit. With your help.”

“My
help?”

“Look, I’ll be frank.” Unsworth napkinned his lips and leant across the table, lowering his voice as he did so. “Like I say, we’ve had our eye on Tozer for years. Which means we’ve had our eye on everyone close to him, including his wife. As a result, we know all about her relationship with you.”

Harding could not suppress a smile. Apparently, even if Whybrow carried out his threat, he would not be telling the police anything they did not already know.

“Something amusing you?”

“No. Carry on.”

“Your lifestyle suggests you’re exactly what you claim to be, Mr. Harding. Proprietor of a middling garden maintenance and landscaping business. You probably didn’t know the money Tozer invested in it was illegally obtained.”

“Hold on.” The conversation had suddenly taken a disturbing turn. “What are you-”

“But it’s how it looks, isn’t it? That’s the bugbear. It’s how it can be made to appear. If you prove… uncooperative.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s an open question whether Mrs. Tozer knows what her husband was up to. But it won’t stay open much longer. She’s going to find out now, even if she didn’t know before. She’s bound to. What then, eh? My bet is Whybrow will persuade her to carry on the good work. In other words, it’ll be business as usual. I can’t think of anyone better placed to stop that happening than you. After all, with Tozer out of the way, you don’t have to be so careful anymore. I expect you’ll be parking your toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet at the apartment in Monte before long.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Really? You and Mrs. Tozer had a tiff, have you? Don’t worry. You’ll soon patch it up. You’ll have to. Otherwise, when we move on Starburst-and, believe me, it is when, not if-Tozer’s stake in your lawn-trimming outfit will look very bad for you. Trust me on that.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Certainly not.” Unsworth looked theatrically outraged. “I’m actually trying to help you. And Mrs. Tozer. Now’s the time for a clean break from her late husband’s shenanigans. Repaying every last cent would be a painful experience for her. I’d be willing to recommend latitude in that department if information was volunteered to us in the wake of Tozer’s sad demise. You see what I’m saying? This is your chance to get out from under-and her with you. You’d be well advised to take it. All you have to do is keep your eyes and ears open. I need documentary evidence. You should be able to lay your hands on some, under the guise of helping out your lady love in her new role as Starburst International’s supremo.”

“If what you say is true, if Starburst really is involved in-”

“It’s involved, Mr. Harding. You’re going to have to face up to that. Its principal role is as middleman between the EU grants machinery and false claimants. Agricultural subsidies are the biggest turnover item. You know the sort of thing. Hill farms with a grid reference that if any of those Europrats bothered to check they’d realize was in the middle of the Bay of bloody Biscay. Vineyards various golfing chums of Tozer’s built high-rise apartment blocks on years ago. It doesn’t stop at agriculture, of course. Recently, they’ve moved into VAT carouselling. Basically, it’s anything and everything, with Starburst taking a fat slice every time. I think Tozer got started in the game when Cornwall was awarded Objective One status back in 2000 and EU money started falling like rain on the land of the piskies. Then he brought in Whybrow-an expert in the field-and things really took off.”

“All right. Say all that’s true. Say Whybrow really is pulling the strings. He’s clever. You admitted that yourself. He’s never going to let me get a sniff of anything
proving
what he’s up to.”

“He can’t stop you. It’s Mrs. Tozer’s company now. He’ll have to let her in on it. And what she finds out you find out.
If
you play your cards right. But remember: I need the kind of material that’ll stand up in court. So, we’ll see what you can dig up… and let you know whether it’s good enough… or if you need to dig deeper.” Unsworth grinned. “I’m confident you can get what we want.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Let’s not be defeatist.” Unsworth plucked a card from his pocket and slid it across the table. “My number’s on there. I’ll expect to hear from you within, oh… a month. That should give you ample time to get the measure of the situation.” The grin broadened. “I have a good feeling about this, Mr. Harding. You’ll enjoy it once you get into your stride. Just think of the public service you’ll be performing. You wouldn’t let parasites take over a garden, would you? Well, this is no different. It really isn’t.”

A phone call summoned Unsworth elsewhere before he could make a move on the patisserie. He left Harding to finish his coffee and stare at the card that was still lying on the table. He had known better than to try to convince Unsworth the state of his relations with Carol meant he stood no chance of being able to burrow into the financial secrets of Starburst International. He did not doubt those secrets were deep and dark. Unsworth’s assessment of them had sounded horribly convincing. It seemed entirely possible to him that Carol already knew about them. Not that it made much difference either way. She had made it clear their affair was over. But Unsworth would never believe that. He would simply assume Harding was trying to wriggle off the hook. Which was precisely what he would have to do, somehow, before the month he had been granted was up. Although a month, ironically, seemed to him at that moment an almost unimaginable interval. Where he would be at the end of it-
how
he would be-was a mystery to him.

The ringing of his own phone interrupted his reverie.

“Hello?”

“Tim. Tony here. Is Carol with you?”

“No. We, er, parted at Nymphenburg.”

“I see. Were you able to… clear up with her… that matter we discussed last night?”

“Oh yes.”

“Good.”

“She’s meeting the investigating officer this afternoon.”

“So I believe.”

“Any er… news of Hayley?”

“None. Which is an increasing concern to me. It would be unfortunate if she remained at liberty for any length of time.”

“Unfortunate?”

“Worrying, perhaps I should say. For Carol. And for you. Unless, of course, you can be absolutely certain she no longer poses a threat.”

“How could I be?” Harding responded, seeking to play Whybrow at his own game.

“True. Absolute certainty in the world of risk assessment is naturally unattainable. Especially if you can’t be sure where the risk lies.”

Harding caught himself glancing nervously round the café. For a fraction of a second, he had thought Whybrow might actually be there, smiling at him from a corner table. But no. There were only stolid
Münchners
digesting their lunches.

“When are you planning to go home, Tim?”

“Tomorrow, I… suppose.”

“I’ll make sure the hotel knows Starburst will pay your bill.”

Starburst will pay.
The phrase would never sound the same again. “Thanks,” said Harding.

“No problem,” said Whybrow “It’s the least we can do… after all you’ve done for us.”

The light was failing when Harding returned to the Cortiina. He had turned off his phone after Whybrow’s call and had filled several empty hours sitting on benches in the innumerable galleries of the Alte Pinakothek, gazing vacantly at gloomy yardages of Renaissance canvas. There were no messages waiting for him at the hotel. The police had not been in touch. There was nothing to prevent him doing what he had told Whybrow he meant to do: go home. But home was a slippery concept. He was not sure where to find it anymore.

He was in the middle of explaining to the receptionist that he would be checking out in the morning when he heard his name spoken softly from close behind.

“Harding.”

Turning, he was surprised to see Gary Lawton standing at his shoulder, wearing the haunted look of a seriously worried man.

“Gary. Where did you spring from?”

“Bar over the road. I’ve been waiting for you to get back. We need to talk.” Lawton grasped Harding’s elbow. “We
really
need to talk.”

They did not go to the bar where Lawton had lain in wait. He preferred a beer-hall, piloting Harding round the corner to the Hofbräuhaus, a vast and clearly tourist-oriented establishment where a lederhosen-clad oompah band accompanied the eager guzzling from foaming mugs by its cosmopolitan clientele.

“Nobody local comes here,” said Lawton as they settled at the empty end of one of the farther-flung tables. “There’s not much chance of anyone I know spotting us.”

“Is this where you met Hayley?”

“No. But I wasn’t being so careful then.”

“Why are you being careful now?”

“Do you need to ask? For Christ’s sake, man, this is a murder case. You were there when it happened, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Harding confirmed, bewildered by the degree to which the memory of the event was assuming a dream-like quality in his mind.

“The police had me in for questioning today.”

“I suppose they would.”

“Helga’s doing her nut. She answered the phone to Ulbricht this morning. He quoted a gagging clause in my contract with the clinic that he claims I may have broken.”

“Just covering his back, I imagine.”

“Yeah. But what about
my
back? Helga’s got it into her head that Hayley might come after me. She’s talking about taking the kids to stay with her mother if Hayley isn’t arrested soon.”

“She only wanted Barney, Gary. No one else is in any danger.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be.”

“Did you think she might do anything like this?”

“Of course not.”

“Neither did I. That’s what-” Lawton broke off as a waitress materialized beside them. Beers were ordered. She vanished. “That’s what worries me,” Lawton resumed. “I-
we
-obviously hadn’t a clue what was going on inside her head. What’s worse, the police don’t seem to have a clue where she’s gone. I got the impression they expected to pick her up without any trouble. But she’s outwitted them.”

“It’s only a matter of time, Gary.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know.”

“The police wanted me to go through everything she said to me on Friday. Word for word. As if I could remember.”

“Well, you’re the last person known to have spoken to her face to face before the shooting, so I suppose-” Their beers arrived. Harding thanked the waitress, but Lawton appeared oblivious to the mug at his elbow and went on staring at some point in the fug-filled middle distance. Harding sighed. “So, did you… recall anything useful?”

“What?” Lawton dragged his thoughts back from wherever they had drifted to.

“Did you recall anything useful?”

“No.” Lawton grimaced. “Nothing the police thought useful, anyway. I actually did most of the talking when we met. That was the whole point. She wanted to hear about Kerry. And I told her. As much as I could. She just… asked a few questions. The kind you’d expect in the circumstances.” The grimace was more of a puzzled frown now. “There was only one thing she said that was… odd… and that, well… didn’t amount to much.”

“What was that?” Harding’s interest was aroused.

“It was about Kerry’s recorder.”

“What about it?”

“She asked if I’d ever played it.”

“And had you?”

“No. I mean, it was there, in the box of stuff the Foxtons brought over. But it never occurred to me to… play it, no. Why would I?”

“Why would Hayley care whether you had or not?”

“Dunno.”

“Did you ask?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“And what did she say?”

“A funny thing. ‘I wanted to be sure,’ she said. ‘Kerry would never have expected anyone else but her to play it. Except me. She would never have
wanted
anyone else to.’ And then she added, ‘I should have thought of it sooner.’”

“What d’you take that to mean?”

“I didn’t take it to mean anything. Neither did the police. What do
you
make of it?”

“Same as you. Nothing.”

“Actually…” Lawton leant forward, running his thumbnail thoughtfully across his teeth.

“What?”

“While I was in the bar, waiting for you, I tried to work out what she could possibly have meant by ‘I should have thought of it sooner.’ Something must have triggered her decision to kill Tozer. Something… she’d just discovered. Something that made her regret… losing her nerve when she went after his wife.”

“And that something is somehow connected with her sister’s recorder?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I think I might, though. It only came to me just now. The recorder. What would’ve happened if I’d played it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, literally, what would have happened?”

Harding shrugged. “How good are you on the recorder?”

“Crap. But that doesn’t matter. I could’ve blown a few notes. Right?”

“Right.”

“Wrong. You see, I don’t think I could’ve done. I think I’d have found the holes were blocked. I think that’s what Hayley found when she tried.”

“Blocked?”

“By something inside the barrel of the recorder. Something hidden there. By Kerry.”

Lawton intended to inform the police of his supposed insight without delay. Harding doubted they would thank him. It was flimsily reasoned and made their task of tracking Hayley down no easier.

Yet it was undeniably tantalizing. Was it possible Kerry had concealed something-which could hardly be more substantial than a single sheet of paper-inside the recorder? Yes. It
was
possible. But why? And what might be written or printed on this putative sheet of paper?

“I should have thought of it sooner.”
Hayley’s remark, made about the recorder, seemed to hint at an answer that lay in the Foxton twins’ childhood. They might have shared the recorder, after all. They
were
twins. As far as Harding knew, there was only one person living who had any close knowledge of their childhood. He phoned her from his room at the Cortiina.

“Hello, Ann.”

“Mr. Harding. You got my message?”

“No.” He had still not turned his mobile back on. “Have you… heard the news?”

“Yes. The police contacted me this morning. I was horrified to hear what had happened.” She did not sound horrified. But, as he was well aware, she seldom allowed her self-control to falter for long. “Nathan had referred them to me as someone with whom Hayley might have been in touch.” Nathan, of course. They would have gone to him first, since Hayley had selected him as her go-between. Harding hoped they had given him a hard time. “But she hasn’t been. I suspect she decided to spare me any involvement in the dreadful course of action she’d embarked upon. Hence she resorted to Nathan to pass her message to Barney Tozer. I’m sorry for what you’ve endured, Mr. Harding. It must have been dreadful.”

“Not as dreadful as it was for Barney.”

“Are you phoning to tell me Hayley’s been arrested?” she asked, conspicuously failing to take the opportunity to express any regrets about Tozer’s death.

“No. I’m not. The German police are still looking for her.”

“Poor Hayley They’ll show no mercy now, will they?”

“Whatever happens, she’s brought it on herself, Ann.”

“I appreciate everyone will think that.”

“Don’t you think it?”

“I’m not sure what to think. Especially in the light of this other… puzzling development.”

“What development?”

“There was a break-in at the Foxtons’ old house over the weekend, Mr. Harding. A very strange kind of break-in.”