Alex Gray - The Riverman

‘Graham West.’ The man let go of Lorimer’s hand and attempted a smile.

‘Catherine Devoy,’ Barr said, indicating the woman who now stood near the head of the table, her hands clasped in front of her. Lorimer made towards her but she merely inclined her head in greeting. ‘And Malcolm Adams,’ Barr continued, his hand on Lorimer’s elbow.

The man across the table did not attempt to stand but simply nodded. ‘Chief Inspector,’ he said in a voice that was barely a whisper. Lorimer took in the gaunt face and pallid complexion. Unless he was much mistaken, Malcolm Adams was one very sick individual. Had he come in especially for this meeting? Lorimer wondered, but he had no more time to reflect as Barr was now taking his place beside the Devoy woman and indicating that the chief inspector should chair the meeting from the top of the table.

Solly was introduced briefly to the others then took his place to one side in a shadowy corner behind Lorimer where he could observe the proceedings without actually taking part. The woman had stared at him curiously for a moment then looked away as if he was of no significance to this meeting.

Lorimer sat down, wondering where to begin. He’d prepared several versions of an opening preamble in his mind, but now that he was under the scrutiny of these people he wanted to get straight to the point.

‘As you know, there is an investigation under way into the deaths of Miss Hammond and your former partner, Mr Forbes. I’m afraid to have to confirm that this is now being treated as a murder inquiry.’ He paused just long enough to observe their reaction. Barr’s face did not alter at all but the two other men showed signs of agitation. Graham West sat back in his chair, hands out of sight, but Lorimer could almost sense the fingernails pressing into the soft flesh of his fingers. Malcolm Adams had opened his mouth in dismay, his eyes staring at Lorimer before looking at each of the others in turn.

‘Are you sure, Chief Inspector?’ Catherine Devoy shook her head slightly as if there was some mistake. ‘We thought Duncan’s death had been … an accident,’ she said.

Lorimer noticed the deliberate pause in her voice, the subtlest of innuendos. Duncan was drunk, she was telling him. Duncan was an alcoholic. Lorimer looked more closely at the woman who had not simply been one of Forbes’ colleagues, but a family friend, godmother to his son. Her well-plucked eyebrows were arched in a question above a pair of eyes that stared straight at him. Catherine Devoy was an attractive woman in her forties, slim and neat, her dark hair fashioned in a modern cut. This was not the sort of person who would command attention like the Jennifer Hammonds of this world. Rather, she held herself in as if more might be revealed, but only on her terms. Given her relationship to the Forbes family, Lorimer had expected a warmer response from the woman. Her apparent lack of emotion made him curious. How would Solly be assessing her?

‘Duncan Forbes was a good man,’ Adams whispered breathily, his voice weak but insistent.

‘We all took it for an accident, Chief Inspector,’ Barr put in gruffly. ‘Can’t think of anything other than that. Tragic accident. Of course it was,’ he insisted. Lorimer did not reply for a moment. That was what anybody would want to think, he told himself. People always needed a reasonable explanation. Murder was never going to happen on their doorstep.

‘I’m afraid our investigation shows that Mr Forbes and Miss Hammond were murdered,’ Lorimer told them quietly. ‘Probably by the same killer.’

‘No! Not Jennifer!’ Graham West’s face registered a look of horror. Then Adams’ hissing intake of breath made all of them turn to look at him, but he merely shook his head, as if the news were too shocking for words. Barr’s frown roamed round each of the partners in turn. Was he, too, suffering the disbelief that so often followed such dramatic news?

‘How can we help?’ Barr said suddenly, his hands open in a gesture of resignation. Lorimer nodded slightly at the man. He’d been swift to endorse the authority of the police and now he was moving on to the next stage. Lorimer was impressed. It was not surprising that Barr had risen to the top in what was a competitive profession, Lorimer thought. He might mourn the passing of his colleagues but there was no sentimentality in Alec Barr, just a steely determination to put things right. It was a relief that at least one of them was trying to see things from the police point of view.

‘First of all I’d like you to tell me about the night Duncan Forbes died. I know it has not been an easy time for you all and I would appreciate your help here.’

‘Well, where should we begin?’ Barr asked, folding his arms.

Lorimer smiled thinly. ‘At police headquarters, Mr Barr. We would like to speak to every one of you in private.’

‘So why bring us all in here?’ Graham West protested but stopped as Barr turned a disapproving look his way.

‘To let you all know what is happening in the case,’ Lorimer replied, as politely as he could. ‘It’s rather odd, don’t you think, that three people from the same firm should suddenly meet their fate in a short space of time?’ He looked intently at each of their faces as he spoke. Barr stared at him with the same unchanging expression, but Catherine Devoy had turned away and was searching in her handbag. Malcolm Adams was shaking his head and Graham West sat with his mouth pursed, as if afraid to say any more.

They’re terrified, Lorimer thought, wondering if Solly was sharing his impression.

‘Is there any reason to think that somebody is stalking members of our firm, Chief Inspector?’ Barr suddenly asked.

A good card to play, Lorimer thought, mentally approving the man’s strategy.

‘Surely we’re not in any danger?’ West blurted out.

‘The inquiry is still in its early stages, sir,’ Lorimer replied, answering West rather than the managing partner. ‘We do have several means of determining the sort of person who carried out these acts,’ he added, stifling a grin as he thought of the bearded individual who was sitting in their midst. ‘I would like to ask for your cooperation at every level. While we are not yet certain of any links to the firm itself, there is every possibility that we may need to look more closely at this building and the staff.’ Lorimer paused again. Catherine Devoy was blowing her nose. Maybe her outward calm was simply a veneer? He looked for signs of red-rimmed eyes but could see none.

‘Michael Turner …’ He paused; the temptation to reveal the truth about that corpse in the woods was growing ever stronger. ‘It was after his party that Duncan Forbes died. That’s something we have been examining very closely,’ he told them.

Barr nodded, his face creased in frowns, ‘Terrible business that, just terrible.’ He looked up, ‘And you think his death might have something to do with this case?’

Lorimer inclined his head but said nothing. An ambiguous gesture, it was designed to let them all think what they liked. But one thing was interesting. Alec Barr might present a gruff exterior but, unlike the others, he was finding it far from easy to refer to his dead colleagues by name.

‘What about the press?’ West asked suddenly.

‘We’ve put things into motion so there will be minimal coverage of the case,’ Lorimer told them. ‘But it will leak out eventually. Given a large firm such as yours, it’s inevitable. But we are trying to contain information as best we can,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Meantime I suggest you give every cooperation to any of our investigating team who may be visiting the firm.’

Lorimer watched the effect of his final words. Barr remained quite still, his gaze on the policeman’s face, but Graham West glanced around anxiously at the others who refused to meet his eyes. Malcolm Adams seemed even more tense and drawn and the woman had sunk back into her chair, half hidden by the managing partner’s bulky figure.