Felicity Young - An Easeful Death

Angus indicated the seat opposite him. He sat down, and Keyes and Thrummel took the seats on either side of him. Angus caught his eye and opened his palms as if to say that things were beyond his control.

Baggly cleared his throat. ‘I’d like to point out, Monty, that this is an unofficial meeting, off the record, no tape or video.’ He nodded to the dormant machines on the shelf to illustrate his point.

Monty found himself having trouble focusing on what Baggly was saying.

‘We merely need to get the ball rolling for the pending enquiry,’ Baggly said. ‘You will have ample time to organise representation. Mr Stern is here as a matter of protocol. We feel his presence from the very start of the investigation will be in your best interest.’

‘The union is willing to contribute a sizeable sum should a lawyer be required,’ Stern said.

Baggly gave Monty a benevolent smile.

Monty opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Baggly’s raised hand. ‘You are going to be asked some questions Monty, which, for the sake of your career, you are urged to answer truthfully. Your answers at this stage will not be admissible in a court of law. If and when these proceedings are advanced, you need only answer under legal advice.’

Baggly turned to Stern, seeking verification. Stern’s nod implied that he felt everything so far was above board.

Monty’s mouth felt dry and gritty. ‘Can someone tell me what this is all about?’ He tried to keep his tone devoid of any hostility, but it was hard given that the methods and means of his summons were still sitting on either side of him.

Baggly, bless him, sensed his discomfort. ‘You two know what you have to do. Off you go now,’ he said.

The detectives rose. Keyes said to Monty. ‘We’d like to search your flat, Sir. Is it necessary for us to get a warrant?’

‘No, go ahead,’ Monty said. He’d speculated that these disciplinary measures had something to do with his tardiness at the morning’s crime scene. Now he realised it was much worse. He threw Thrummel his keys and tried to sound nonchalant. ‘There are some files there, I was reading them last night. I don’t want them left around for my cleaner to see. You may as well bring them back with you.’

Thrummel nodded.

‘Get the ball rolling, Sergeant Wong,’ Baggly said.

Angus waited for Keyes and Thrummel to leave the room before reaching into his jacket pocket. His tone was as gentle as ever when he asked, ‘Do you recognise this?’ He slid a plastic evidence bag across the table.

Monty’s tongue seemed to have stitched itself to the roof of his mouth. Cold pricks of perspiration started to bead on his forehead and he swiped at them with the back of his sleeve. Picking up the plastic bag he turned it around in his fingers and met Angus’s concerned gaze.

‘It’s my watch. Where did you find it? I left it on my desk at Central.’

‘It was clasped in Michelle Birkby’s hand,’ said Angus. ‘Your name’s engraved on the back.’

‘My watch,’ Monty said again to no one in particular. Different scenarios swirled through his head in ragged spirals. ‘It’s a plant,’ he said at last, ‘like the commissioner’s hair on Linda Royce.’

Baggly said, ‘Of course it is, but...’

Monty’s confusion turned to anger. He thumped the table with his fists and leapt to his feet. ‘What do you mean, “but”?’

Baggly said, ‘Sit down please, Inspector.’

‘Fuck you!’

‘Inspector McGuire!’

‘Monty,’ Angus spoke with the soft voice of reason. ‘This isn’t helping you at all. Sit down. You know as well as I do that these questions have to be asked. You’re upset about Michelle, we all are. Now let’s get down to the questioning so we can all get out of here as soon as possible.’

Baggly sniffed, ‘I’m putting that outburst down to grief. I won’t be so understanding next time.’

Monty sat down and folded his arms like a petulant child.

‘When did you last see Michelle?’ Angus asked.

‘Thursday, after the press conference. We met in the lobby of the Excalibur.’

‘You were seen having a heated argument.’

Arms still folded, Monty leant back in his chair and looked at Angus. ‘Jeez, you haven’t wasted any time.’

‘Sarcasm is not necessary, Inspector,’ Baggly said.

‘Okay, we had an argument. She wanted more information about the Royce case and I wouldn’t give it to her.’

‘Good. That’s commendable. We all know how much pressure she’s had you under.’ Baggly was trying to be kind, but didn’t quite carry it off. It was the placating tones of a politician with a particularly obnoxious constituent.

Monty said, ‘I haven’t seen her since then.’

‘You mean since this morning, when you saw her dead,’ Baggly said.

Monty swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded. He turned to Angus. ‘I suppose you want to know where I was last night?’

Angus seemed relieved that the question hadn’t had to come from him.

‘I was passed out in my flat. I haven’t got an alibi.’

Ian Stern cleared his throat and put a finger to his lips. Monty ignored the warning. This wasn’t an official investigation, damn it. He would say what he damn well pleased. How ironic that it just happened to be the truth.

‘You’d been drinking?’ Angus asked.

‘I guess so, I can’t remember any of it.’

Angus sighed. Baggly shook his head and said, ‘You have to understand my—our—position, Inspector. Given that the commissioner’s hair was found on the previous body and proved to be a plant, it follows that your watch is most probably a plant also.’

Monty found himself holding his breath.

‘However,’ Baggly continued, ‘unlike the case of the commissioner, you have the method, means and motive for this murder. And you have no alibi. For the sake of the reputation of the Police Service, should further investigations prove your guilt, I have no choice but to suspend you with pay until your innocence is proven absolutely. You will have no further contact with the investigating officers of the Poser case unless it is an instigated interview with Thrummel or Keyes present, to ensure impartiality from your team. Contact with any investigating officer outside the official channels stipulated by myself will result in severe disciplinary action.’

Monty had still not drawn a breath. His ear lobes and fingertips were beginning to tingle, he felt dizzy. Angus noticed his pallor, poured some water into a glass and slid it across the table to him. Monty finally let out his breath to take a sip, conscious of the wary glances from the other men in the room. When he’d emptied the glass, Angus leaned across the table and eased it from his hand as if concerned he might throw it at Baggly.

But Monty didn’t have it in him any more. The alcohol reaction, the shock of Michelle’s death, her parents’ grief and now this—he shook his head. He reached into his pocket for his ID wallet and put it on the table as he climbed to his feet.

‘Will that be all, Sir?’

‘We’ll be in touch, Inspector,’ Baggly said.

Angus’s sigh of relief was the last thing he heard as he left the room.

12

The killer appears to be normal because he is able to separate himself from his actions.

De Vakey, The Pursuit of Evil

Stevie couldn’t keep still. Waiting in the corridor with the others she bounced from one bubble-soled foot to the other. With his head bowed, Monty finally emerged from the interview room, with no acknowledgement to her or any of the other members of the team. Angus followed him out, caught Stevie’s eye and gave her the thumbs down.