Snow Storm (12 page)

He moved swiftly knowing
all too well that the large expanse of grass he was running over
was uneven. The sites gave him a clue as to the lay of the land and
cut down on the likelihood of a twisted ankle from an unexpectedly
high or low foot strike. He hit lower than expected at one point
jarring his ankle and his knee and causing an adrenaline spike that
made sure the rest of his steps landed more
consistently.

As he rounded the last
corner, seeing the light streaming from the window he needed, Andy
dropped to his knees sliding along the wet grass and coming to a
halt dramatically under the window.

Slowly raising his head
he took in the scene that emerged.

The lights in the room
were in fact low but the room was dominated by a huge screen, must
have been 50 inches at least. The sporting event on display was
accompanied by occasional giant stats and graphics.

The room was unoccupied
apart from a lone figure, whose head Andy could clearly pick out in
silhouette above an ancient wingback chair as the light from the
screen and a roaring log fire danced around distorting its shape
more than normal. Now was the time. He selected the necessary
electrical equipment from his pack ensuring to take the right
preparatory precautions and took aim.

He held his breath and
fired. Nothing. He reloaded taking aim again after the correct
amount of shoogle, fired and watched with gritted teeth.

He felt a grin spread
across his face as the screen went black, watched as the rotund
figure on the chair scrambled around looking for his own remote
control before switching the golf back on. As the figure sank back
onto the chair, Andy took aim again. This time selecting the TV
mode, scrolling down the menu and selecting Al Jazeera.

He watched as Davie
jumped up from his seat again scratching his head like the
overgrown primate he was and frantically pressing buttons on the
remote. Andy decided he would go for the caravan channel next
possibly followed by Nikelodeon or one of the African Christian
channels. He could keep doing this for a while.

Burke made his way to the
West End. He buzzed the archaic door at the Phoenix Consultancy and
entered. He was greeted by and aging receptionist who offered a cup
of tea which he gratefully accepted with the proviso that she put
three sugars in.

Fraser
Douglas’s consultation room was more or less what he imagined a
plastic surgeon’s office would look like. Two black leather couches
flanked a marble fireplace with a heavy expensive looking vase as
its centrepiece. Magazines related to the business of nipping and
tucking adorned a coffee table and a series of splatted minimalist
canvases their owner had no doubt paid through the nose for adorned
the walls along with the standard centrepieces denoting
qualifications awards and memberships.

The man himself was
probably around forty five. It was hard to tell as he had clearly
foregone the type of hair replacement he recommended and
performed.

He bounded
into the room like a cocker spaniel and they shook hands as Burke’s
tea was delivered. Douglas sat on the arm of one of the couches and
slurped on an espresso. He’d clearly had his teeth done as there
wasn’t a coffee stain or natural shade of enamel on display in his
mouth.

“
So you spoke
to one of my officers this morning?” Burke began.

“
I did,”
Douglas replied.

“
And at the
time you didn’t remember seeing anything?”

“
No, well
that’s not perhaps strictly true,” Douglas replied
frowning.

Burke realised he’d had
his eyebrows done.

“
I hope we
can keep this on the down low if you know what I mean.” Douglas
gave Burke a look an actual spaniel might give someone with food; a
kind of practised begging look, or at least he was sure that’s what
he thought it would look like. The outside world rarely accurately
reflected the inside of anyone’s brain and in reality it merely
served to make him look like a cross between the ET and someone who
was in the midst of a fright when the Botox properly kicked in.
Forty five year old men really shouldn’t try to look cute in a
begging way or in fact anyway Burke noted.

“
I have been
engaging in what you might call a bit of an assignation,” Douglas
carried on. “Can I ask that we keep this between
ourselves?”

“
You can
ask,” Burke replied “but I can’t really guarantee anything. That’s
not strictly true. I can guarantee that you won’t be obstructing a
police investigation should you see fit to fill us in on what you
saw or didn’t see. I can also tell you that I will do my best to
conceal your infidelity. But that’s as far as I can go.”

Douglas had obviously
been trying to put a positive face on it. His shoulders slumped
forward and his features collapsed. He raised his eyebrows,
wrinkling his brow in recognition. “I value my marriage inspector.
Are you married?”

“
I
am.”

“
Well then
presumably you know how much that means and that you just want to
live up to your better half’s expectations but that also, sometimes
that’s just not possible.”

“
Sometimes,
perhaps.”

“
I’ve tried
to fight it off,” he said staring intently at a spot somewhere on
the wall. “But I’m a remarkably weak man when it comes down to
it.”

Burke said nothing. He
let Douglas continue knowing that this was a man looking to
unburden himself.

“
It started
last summer. I’d been going round the doors on the street, looking
for sponsorship for a cycle ride I’m doing to John O’Groats and
back. It was through the local Rotary club, a few of us were doing
it as much for an excuse to put in some extra training before the
summer, if only to look good on the beach. Vanity’s a powerful
motivator. I should know.” He paused clearly expecting this to
elicit a small laugh at the very least. “So I get to Oleg’s house
around nine only to find him in a bit of a drunken state.” He
looked at Burke who nodded, “well he was having a bit of a get
together and he invited me in. It was only at that point that I
realised there were no other men there.”

“
Really?”
Burke replied. “In which case, who was there?”

Douglas’s
shoulders slumped forward again and he let out a long lingering
sigh.

“
Professionals you might say.”

“
I’m
sorry?”

“
Ladies of
the night, escorts, call girls, hookers, call them what you
will.”

“
And
presumably having being invited in, you were then invited to
indulge?” Burke enquired, already knowing the answer. Why else
would he look so decidedly pale right now?

“
In my line
of work there are of course ample opportunities for dalliances
shall we say?”

“
No
doubt.”

“
There is a
bit of pressure involved. You take your chances to blow off steam
while you can. I’ve already had more than one affair inspector, and
my wife isn’t stupid. She caught me out twice and gave me an
ultimatum as no doubt you’d expect. I suppose that’s what the
cycling was about as much as anything. Escapism.”

“
Hardly the
same is it?” Burke heard himself say.

Douglas laughed a
hysterical cackle, holding his head with both hands as though he
might otherwise fall from his perch.

“
No
inspector, it isn’t. What is it they call us? Mamils? Middle aged
men in lycra, an entire generation of men trying to recapture their
youth by regressing to the age of twelve. At least some people have
the balls to become born again bikers but no, that’s too dangerous.
I learned that from my days in A&E. No, nowadays we all dress
up like Lance Armstrong, and get our kicks peddling down hills like
we did when we were pre-teens.” He laughed again. The hollow laugh
of the slightly desperate man.

“
I suppose if
nothing else it’s healthy.”

“
Didn’t work
out so healthy for me though did it?” he almost shouted, before
remembering himself, “caused me to spend the next few months in a
blizzard of cocaine and whores.”

“
So this
became a regular thing?”

“
It did,
every Wednesday and Friday night. I told my wife these were
training nights,” he scoffed to himself. “Gave me an excuse to come
in wrecked and immediately take a shower. I kept it up, the
training on Monday nights, just to keep my hand in, kept my story
consistent if you see what I mean.”

“
Must have
been hard work.”

“
Not really
inspector. People rarely see what they don’t want to. It can be
fairly easy to hide in plain sight.”

“
You think
your wife knew?”

“
I assume she
has more than an inkling. But knowing something deep down and being
confronted with it are not the same thing, are they?”

“
It must have
been expensive.”

“
Not at
all.”

“
Really? In
my admittedly limited and strictly professional experience, coke
and prostitutes tend to take a bit of a toll on the bank balance Mr
Douglas.”

“
Obviously,
but I wasn’t exactly footing the bill.”

“
Mr Karpov
was funding your leisure activities in full?”

“
He
was.”

“
And what did
he want in return?”

Douglas looked thoughtful
for a moment before shrugging.

“
Not sure I
know. I think he was lonely.”

“
I see.
Expensive way to get companionship isn’t it? Surely a Labrador, or
at a push a Thai bride would actually work out cheaper in the long
run.”

“
I don’t know
inspector. I’ve already told you that.”

“
In any case,
accepting all of what you say about your relationship with the now
deceased Mr Karpov, what details can you actually give us regarding
his murder?”

“
None to
speak of.”

“
None?”

“
No, save to
say that he was involved with a dodgy crowd.”

“
A dodgy
crowd?”

“
Well the man
did have a ready supply of drugs and hookers didn’t he?”

“
As did you
sir.”

“
I’m hardly
Pablo Escobar Inspector.”

“
But you
suspected Mr Karpov of being some kind of kingpin?”

“
Well
possibly, what did I know? It’s not like I asked, but he was of
Lithuanian extraction and I’m not being racist but..”

Oh here we go Burke
thought to himself.

“
Eastern
Europeans perhaps have a different view of that kind of thing,
culturally speaking.”

So it’s more a case of
xenophobia then? Burke thought. “And yet you freely associated with
him sir?”

“
Well no,”
Douglas replied, now looking a trifle confused.

“
So he was
coercing, perhaps blackmailing you in some way?”

“
No
Inspector. No I suppose I did freely associate with him as you put
it. We didn’t discuss work.”

“
Just took
illegal drugs and had sex with prostitutes?”

“
Look I’m
trying to be helpful here,” Douglas said holding his arms out to
the side in the age old way suggested he had nothing concealed. I
have been totally honest with you here. “I haven’t involved my
solicitor as I came to you in good faith.”

“
So you know
nothing else?” Burke summarised. He’d been here long enough. The
air in the room was starting to taste bitter.

“
No.”

“
In which
case that should be all for now.”

“
Meaning?”

“
We’ll be in
touch.”

“
Am I what
would you say immune from prosecution. Does this goes any
further?”

“
We’ll be in
touch.”

“
Can we keep
this away from my wife? Inspector, I have tried to be reasonable in
all of this. I am doing my best to be helpful in catching the
criminals who did this to a friend and neighbour.”

“
It’s good of
your sir.” And with that he was gone leaving Douglas to stew in his
own juices. Funny how he seemed to think a medical degree gave him
the right to flout laws as long as he did the big confession scene
when it all went wrong. He must have been watching too much Oprah,
much like his cycling hero.

Doctor Brown had offered
him coffee from a kettle he kept -probably against health and
safety- in the lab but he always refused, feeling somehow that the
stench of death might make its way into the water by osmosis or
something.

The ever downtrodden
Brown was currently regaling him with a story about his recent golf
holiday in the Algarve. Soon to be retired, he had squirreled away
enough cold, hard cash over the years to set himself up a decent
bolt hole out there and planned on living out the rest of his days
in the relentless sunshine.

“
Until the
start of the inevitable decline,” he pointed out. “There comes a
point when one has to rely on the kindness of the NHS or whatever
is left of it by the time they have all gone private. Had my teeth
done while I’ve still got the readies.”