Michael Ridpath - Free To Trade

I followed him in and, unasked, sat on the sofa.

Rob took a swig of beer from the can. He didn't offer me any. 'So what do you want?'

'I'll be quick,' I said. 'I know you were following Debbie the night she died.'

Rob looked at me steadily, his face registering neither surprise nor denial.

'And why would I do that?'

'Because you were jealous of me and Debbie.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'You had an affair with her a couple of years ago.'

'As you say, that was a couple of years ago.'

He annoyed me, slouching arrogantly in that big chair. My voice rose. 'Look, Debbie's flatmate Felicity told me you had been bothering her just before she died. And Cathy said you told her you followed Debbie the night she was pushed into the river. So, you see I know. And I think it's sick creeping around after women like that.'

My last comment hit home. Rob suddenly came to life. Anger sparked in his eyes. His cheeks flushed. He waved his can at me, spilling some of the golden frothy liquid on to the carpet.

'You're a bastard,' he spat. 'You're a fucking bastard. First you take Debbie from me, and now Cathy. Well, let me tell you, you can't just steal my women like that and get away with it. You can't!' The last words were shouted.

'I didn't mean to take Cathy away from you,' I said. 'You just lost her all by yourself.'

Rob didn't like that. He pulled himself out of his chair, and screamed, 'Don't talk shit. You knew what you were doing. You have made my life hell. Complete hell. So don't just sit there and say you didn't mean to, you smug bastard.'

He swayed, and collapsed back into his chair. 'I loved Debbie. How I loved her! It was hard when we split up.' His voice fell almost to a whisper. 'In a way, all those other women I chased after were just a means of taking my mind off her. I did a good job of it. I buried my feelings deep.'

He took another gulp of beer. 'Then you came along. I could see that Debbie liked you. The way she used to flirt with you, and go off to lunch or a drink with you. I knew what was happening; I could see it right in front of my eyes, and I had to do something about it.

'So, I asked Debbie to marry me. She said no, but I didn't give up. In the end she told me to get lost. I was shattered. Then a week later, she was killed.'

He swallowed. He pulled back his head, and rubbed his eyes. They were glistening.

'I was devastated. And then along came Cathy. The one woman I had ever met who was as nice as Debbie. And so attractive. I felt confused, but she made everything much clearer. I feel right with her. Really right. And then I discover that all the while you were plotting to get your way with her as well.'

Rob stared at me, his eyes full of hate. He wasn't going to forgive me, I thought. I had become the focal point for all the dissatisfaction he felt with himself and his relationships with women.

But I wanted answers. 'So, did you see who killed Debbie?' I asked.

Rob relaxed. He took a swig of beer from his can, and smiled. 'Maybe.'

'Did you kill her?'

'Of course not,' still smiling.

I struggled to control my own anger. 'You told the police that you saw me push Debbie in the river, didn't you?'

Rob just smiled. I wanted to hit him.

'Because if you did tell them you saw me, both you and I know it was a lie. And there can be serious penalties for perjury.'

Rob seemed unconcerned. 'The police interviewed me, naturally. Whatever I told them will probably come out in court eventually. And I can assure you that I will stick to whatever I have told them, which is of course the truth.'

'What about the earring?'

'What earring?'

'Debbie's earring. The one she was wearing the night she died. The one you planted in my flat.'

Rob looked genuinely puzzled. 'I don't know what you are talking about. But I should remind you that trying to intimidate witnesses is also a serious business. I will call Inspector Powell as soon as you have gone, and let him know of your visit.'

I could see I was not going to get anywhere, except possibly into more trouble than I was already in. Rob had lied to the police, but would stick with his lie. It would be his word against mine. I didn't stand a chance.

I got up and left.

A quarter of an hour later, I was home. I was tired, confused and angry. Rob hated me, Rob had lied to the police, and I would soon find myself charged with murder.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Thoughts of Rob, Debbie, Waigel and Joe spun around in my head. My brain was so tired, it was on the point of giving out. Exhausted, I flopped into bed.

Despite my fatigue, I slept fitfully. When the black outside my window turned to grey, I crawled out of bed, pulled on my running things, and set off round the park. I did two circuits. On little sleep it was hard work, but it did calm me down. I got home, had a bath, some toast and some coffee, and felt a bit better. I rang Cathy at Bloomfield Weiss. She had just got in to work. I asked her and Cash to come round as soon as they could. I said it was urgent.

They arrived about ten. I told them about Powell's search of my flat, and about my visit to Rob's. I also ran through all I had been thinking the previous day.

I summed up. 'So, we don't know who killed Debbie. We can be sure that Waigel was involved, but he wasn't in the country when she was killed. I suspect Rob might have something to do with it, and I also think that the Tremont Capital fraud is important. But for the life of me I can't put it all together. In the meantime, I am in serious trouble. All it needs is for Powell to come up with one more piece of evidence, which it seems plenty of people would be happy to manufacture, and I will be arrested. Unless I can work out who killed Debbie, I will be facing a murder charge. Have either of you got any ideas, because I sure as hell haven't?'

Cash exhaled. 'Jeez. This is all a bit complex for me. I don't know.'

Cathy didn't say anything. She was thinking. I kept quiet, hopeful she would come up with something.

Finally she said, 'OK, try this. What do we know about Debbie's murderer?'

'Well, he must have been in London when Debbie was killed,' I said.

'Right. And he may well have been the man pulling the strings at Phoenix Prosperity.'

I nodded. 'That's true. Jack Salmon was certainly talking to somebody. And that somebody knows the markets.' I thought some more. That somebody had approved Jack Salmon's proposal to buy Fairway bonds.

I had told Hamilton I thought Fairway was a good investment.

My thoughts were interrupted by Cathy. 'Waigel was lucky that no one checked out the Tremont Capital guarantee. He was running a risk there.'

'It was a private placement,' I said. 'The documents didn't have to be filed anywhere, and there was a restricted list of customers.'

'Very restricted,' said Cathy. 'Two, in fact. De Jong, and Harzweiger Bank.'

'You said Waigel suggested Harzweiger, and you came up with De Jong yourself?' I asked Cash.

'That's right,' he said. 'After Hamilton had indicated his interest in high-yielding triple-As.'

'Well, we can be pretty sure that Dietweiler was working with Waigel; he probably stuffed the Tremont bonds in client accounts, hoping no one would notice,' I said.

'Which leaves De Jong,' said Cathy.

'Mm. It is very odd Hamilton didn't check the guarantee, or at least get Debbie to check it,' I said. 'A rare mistake.'

The inevitable conclusion was there, staring us all in the face.

Hamilton.

It couldn't be true. Hamilton might have sacked me, but he was still important to me. I admired the man; he was the one person who was straightforward in this whole filthy mess. It just didn't make sense. I wasn't prepared to believe it.