Alex Gray - The Riverman

‘Chief Inspector,’ Alec Barr stood up and offered Lorimer his hand. ‘Please take a seat.’ Barr came round his desk and waved a hand at two blue armchairs that were placed strategically, angled towards one another. These were for intimate chats, Lorimer guessed. The more functional seating opposite the senior partner’s desk was strictly for business.

‘We’re investigating the circumstances surrounding your former partner’s death, Mr Barr,’ Lorimer began, swinging one leg easily over the other.

Alec Barr did not reply, but merely stared at Lorimer as if willing him to continue. The man’s bushy eyebrows were drawn down in a frown but beneath them the DCI could see a pair of keen eyes regarding him with interest.

‘We received an anonymous telephone call early on the morning following Duncan Forbes’ death. Checks on the call have shown that the person’s accent is local. I wondered if I could speak to your human resources people, sir. Ask them to listen to the tape of this call to see if anyone recognizes the voice.’

‘Why our people?’ Barr blustered. ‘If the call was made the morning after Duncan …?’

‘It was also the morning after a Forbes Macgregor function, sir. The last people to see Duncan Forbes were probably your own colleagues.’

Barr considered this for a moment and Lorimer could see he was thinking hard.

‘The senior human resources manager is Jennifer Hammond,’ Barr said suddenly. ‘She’s been with the firm for longer than anyone else in that department. Would you like me to call her in?’

‘Please,’ Lorimer replied, clasping his hands over his bent knee and leaning back into the folds of the armchair. The more relaxed he appeared, the less he would give away to the senior partner whose own body language was displaying high levels of stress. He watched Alec Barr as the man dialled the extension and asked for Jennifer. Barr had turned his back on his visitor and Lorimer could not see the man’s expression, but beneath the snow-white shirt the DCI could have sworn those shoulder muscles strained with tension.

Jennifer Hammond was a tall, leggy redhead whose smile immediately made Lorimer uncross his legs and stand up to greet her. She smoothed back her long russet hair as she took the seat beside him. Her dark brown suit was immaculately cut, the skirt just above the knee, showing a pair of slender legs. The severity of her clothes simply drew attention to her face, however, and to a pair of green eyes that were looking at Lorimer with something like amusement. It took him only a heartbeat to realize that this young woman was appraising him not as a visiting policeman but as a possible conquest. Was this a device she used with all her colleagues and clients? he wondered, as Alec Barr made the introductions. Or was it designed to disarm him? If so, it was certainly working as Lorimer realized that he was holding her outstretched hand for just a fraction too long.

He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Hammond,’ he began.

‘Jennifer, please.’ She smiled. ‘Everyone calls me by my first name. It’s much friendlier, don’t you think?’

Lorimer suddenly found himself wondering how a judge might respond to such a request in court. ‘Just call me Jennifer, my lord. It’s much friendlier.’

‘Jennifer,’ he began again, ‘I would like you to listen to a tape recording of a call that was made to Strathclyde Police. It was the call that alerted us to Duncan Forbes’ whereabouts following his death.’

‘Really?’ The carefully plucked eyebrows were drawn up in twin arches of surprise. She glanced briefly towards Alec Barr who had perched on the edge of his desk, then looked back at Lorimer. ‘Why do you want me to listen to this, Chief Inspector?’

‘To see if you might be able to identify the caller,’ he told her. ‘Just on the off-chance that it was made by one of Mr Forbes’ colleagues.’

‘Well, of course. How odd. Why would someone telephone the police and not leave their name?’ she asked, the smile dropping from her face as she gave the matter some thought. ‘Do you have the tape here, Chief Inspector, or would you like me to listen to it at a police station?’

‘It’s at Pitt Street,’ Lorimer answered, not revealing that a voice analyst had been working on the tape at police headquarters.

‘Now?’

‘If it’s convenient,’ he replied. The sooner this was over the better. And if Miss Jennifer Hammond could identify their mystery caller, they would be some way down the line in discovering what had really happened to Duncan Forbes.

Lorimer felt a slight awkwardness as he walked along Carlton Place. Jennifer Hammond had donned a loose raincoat but it swung open as she walked beside him, her long legs matching his own stride. She gave him a little smile as they set off, a smile that made him feel distinctly hot under the collar. It was as if he’d asked her out for a date, not for assistance into a police investigation. He tried to concentrate on the traffic coming off the George V Bridge, looking for a likely place to cross the street. Instinctively he took Jennifer Hammond’s arm as a gap appeared in the line of cars, hurrying them over towards the Lexus parked on the other side. Once across the road he let go of her, that small courtesy satisfied as far as he was concerned. She waited until Lorimer had opened the passenger door then slipped inside in one easy movement.

‘Were you at the function at the Crowne Plaza the night of Duncan Forbes’ death, Miss Hammond?’ Lorimer began, as they rounded the corner and began the short journey across town.

‘Jennifer,’ she reminded him. But when he ignored her, she continued, ‘Yes, of course I was. It was Michael’s last night before he set off for New York. We were very good friends. There was no way I’d have missed that party.’ She laughed.

‘A good night, was it?’

‘Yes, great …’ she paused, suddenly aware of what she had said. ‘Oh, God, of course it wasn’t. Poor Duncan. What a thing to say!’ Jennifer Hammond looked at Lorimer, a question in her green eyes. ‘You wanted me to say that, didn’t you?’

‘Perhaps I wanted to find out what sort of evening you all had before it became a tragedy,’ Lorimer replied quietly.

Jennifer Hammond nodded. The flirtatiousness had suddenly disappeared from her face. It was as if she had only just begun to realize that the policeman by her side was a senior officer who was conducting an investigation into something altogether more serious than an accidental death.

‘It was a good party,’ she began. ‘There were about thirty of us: all the partners and Michael’s friends, mostly managers from tax and audit. We had the usual drinks and nibbles, some folk drifted off in the middle of the evening but most of us stayed till the bitter end.’

‘And Duncan Forbes?’

‘Can’t remember what time he left. It was late-ish, certainly. I think most of the partners left around the same time. Sorry. We had a fair bit to drink that night. With taxis laid on to take us all home, I might add,’ she said, a twinkle appearing back in her eyes.

Lorimer tilted his head. ‘What happened to the one that was supposed to be taking Duncan Forbes home to Bearsden?’

Jennifer Hammond shrugged. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t tell you. But if you check with our office manager, he’ll be able to give you the name of the taxi company we always use.’

Lorimer listened to the musical quality in the woman’s voice. There was no tremor to show grief for a colleague’s sudden death or any expression of how awful it really was.

Most women, in Lorimer’s experience, would have made some remark like, ‘Isn’t it terrible?’ or ‘Who would have believed it?’, trite clichés that were still an expression of their genuine feelings of sorrow. But not this lady, he thought. Why? Well, there was one way to find out.