Chapter Twenty-Five

Annie hadn’t been sure what to expect, but her expectations hadn’t extended to anyone quite like Erica Adamsson. Her experience of trade union officials had been largely limited to men like Keith Chalmers – and they generally were men, middle-aged, besuited, overweight and balding with years of experience in working on or around the shop-floor.

Adamsson was something else. For a start, she looked young, probably no more than early twenties. She was tall, slim and blond, and Annie suspected that in an alternative life she could easily have been a fashion model. But there was also something intimidating about her, even to Annie, who had long made a professional point of not being intimidated by anyone. It was something to do with the intensity of Adamsson’s gaze, the way she stared at Annie through black-rimmed spectacles as if about to challenge her right even to exist. Adamsson spoke impeccable English, although Annie could detect a trace of some kind of Scandinavian accent.

‘I was sorry to hear about Keith,’ Adamsson said. ‘It was a shock to all of us here.’ She sounded as if she’d learned the words of sympathy by rote without ever quite understanding what they meant.

Annie nodded. ‘At this stage, we’re really just trying to gather some background on Mr Chalmers. We’ve informed Mr Chalmers’ son, who’s the next of kin, so we’re expecting he’ll be able to tell us about Mr Chalmers’ private life. I was hoping you might be able to give us some insights into his work.’

‘Insights?’ Adamsson repeated. Her tone implied she was considering a critique of Annie’s use of English. ‘I suppose. We were working colleagues for the last two years or so.’

‘What’s the set-up here?’ Annie immediately regretted her choice of words, suspecting that Adamsson would view it as inappropriately informal.

‘It is a small office,’ Adamsson said. ‘Six of us. I am office director. We have four representatives, who cover the various sectors we represent. Keith was one of those. And we have an administrator.’

‘And you cover the East Midlands?’

‘Yes, as we define it. That stretches across to East Anglia, and down to Northamptonshire. It’s quite a large area.’

‘So the representatives spend a lot of time on the road?’

‘Inevitably.’ Adamsson spoke as if the question was hardly worth answering. ‘Most of them come in here once or twice a week. Keith less so, unfortunately.’

‘Why unfortunately?’

‘It made my job harder. I need to know what cases they’re involved in. Any emerging issues or problems. I don’t want to find I’ve been caught out because I’ve not been kept up to speed with events.’

‘And was that a problem with Mr Chalmers?’

‘It could be. Keith was not an easy man to work with. He was not a team player.’

‘I suppose the representatives have to be very self-sufficient?’ Annie wasn’t sure why she felt any urge to defend Chalmers, but that was how Adamsson’s manner was affecting her.

‘Perhaps.’ Adamsson sounded as if she’d never given the matter much thought. ‘But Keith was more challenging than some of the others. He came in only rarely. Usually because I had insisted he should be present at a meeting.’

‘Did he get on with his colleagues?’ Annie asked.

‘I suppose so. In so far as he needed to.’

Annie was beginning to feel as if she was talking a different language from Adamsson. ‘What about with you? Did he get on with you?’

‘With me?’ There was a prolonged silence. ‘Not really. We were very different people.’

‘In what way?’

Another pause. ‘I have certain standards. I believe in discipline. It’s the only way to run an office like this, especially if staff are working remotely. Keith was not good at those disciplines. His manner was – casual.’ The condemnation sounded damning, the most severe criticism that Adamsson could envisage.

‘How did that manifest itself?’ Annie felt she was in danger of inadvertently mimicking Adamsson’s verbal style.

‘He didn’t follow procedures. He was a great believer in what he called “flexibility”.’ The quotes around the word were almost visible. ‘He told me that was the secret to effective negotiation. The willingness to bend the rules to achieve the desired outcome.’

‘You didn’t agree with that?’

‘I accept that intransigence is likely to be a barrier to success. But that is different from Keith’s notion of “flexibility”. In my view, his approach was at times tantamount to anarchy.’

‘That seems a rather strong description.’

‘But correct, I think. I have established procedures here, for example, which are designed to make everyone’s life easier. Protocols about how we report, how we create files, how we record information, and so on. Keith often disregarded or even flouted those procedures. That makes everyone’s life harder.’

‘I understand that the disciplinary procedures were invoked against Mr Chalmers on a number of occasions?’

There was another extended silence. ‘That is an internal matter.’

‘I’m afraid not, Ms Adamsson. I’m engaged in a murder inquiry. If you have information that may be pertinent to our investigation, you have a legal obligation to share it with the police.’

‘It is not pertinent.’

‘With respect, we have to be the judge of that. In any case, I understand that, on at least one of those occasions, the police were involved.’

‘We decided not to proceed with the matter.’

It was notable that, since they’d moved on to this topic, Adamsson’s responses had become increasingly terse. ‘I understand it was the police who decided not to progress with the investigation on the basis that there was little likelihood of being able to evidence any wrong-doing.’

‘Nevertheless, the point is that the inquiry was discontinued.’

‘Did you believe that Mr Chalmers had committed any wrong-doing?’

‘My opinion is of no importance. We have procedures to follow. In that case, we were unable to continue.’

Annie sighed. She suspected Adamsson would be able to continue politely blocking her questions for as long as she wanted. ‘Can I ask you about the nature of the accusations?’

Adamsson’s expression remained blank, but it was clear to Annie that she was weighing up how to respond to the question. Finally she said, ‘There were accusations that Keith was accepting payments from some of the employers we deal with. That he was being bribed to act against his members’ interests. There were also accusations that he had used union funds inappropriately.’

‘How did you feel about that? About the accusation, I mean.’

‘If it was true, it would of course have been wholly unacceptable. Our role is to represent our members, and there can be conflict of interest. It is simple.’

‘Did you believe it to be true? Did you believe that Mr Chalmers had behaved inappropriately?’

For a moment, Annie thought Adamsson would make another attempt to dodge the question. Finally, though, she said, ‘I thought it was likely, yes.’

‘But there was insufficient evidence to proceed with the investigation?’

Adamsson shrugged. ‘Opinions differed, let us say. Keith had a better reputation with the national office than he had here. They discouraged the investigation.’

‘Why was that? Why did he have a better reputation at national level, I mean?’

‘You would have to ask them.’ Adamsson hesitated for a moment, as if recognising that this response was insufficient. ‘Much of it comes down to political divisions. The national office tends to be more old-fashioned. You might say more right-wing. They think of us as dangerous radicals.’ Adamsson smiled, but Annie wasn’t sure to what extent she was joking. ‘They saw Keith as one of their own. He’d worked in London for a while, and was very old-school. We saw him as something of a spy in the camp.’

‘I believe there was some suggestion that the accusations were maliciously motivated?’

Adamsson’s smile was unwavering. ‘There were some tensions in the office, but my view is that the accusations were sincerely motivated. It is academic now, though.’

Annie raised an eyebrow. ‘Except that someone was responsible for Mr Chalmers’ death.’

‘You’re not suggesting anyone here was responsible?’

‘I’m suggesting nothing. But I am interested in the nature of Mr Chalmers’ working relationships with his colleagues. Particularly if there were tensions.’

‘It was just office politics. Nothing more. In this kind of work, people have strong feelings about what they do and how they do it.’

‘Of course. But we will need to talk to everyone here. I trust that won’t be a problem?’

‘Not at all. I quite understand. But I’m afraid you won’t find the explanation of Keith’s tragic death here.’

Annie gazed back at the other woman for a moment, keeping her own expression neutral. She had little doubt that Adamsson wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she suspected Adamsson was the kind of person who rarely told the whole truth. Whether it was significant in this case, Annie had no idea. But she was increasingly realising that Keith Chalmers’ life was much more complicated than she’d imagined. Every step in this case seemed only to open up new questions. ‘Thank you for your time, anyway. I’ll organise for my team to talk to the other members of the office.’

‘That won’t be a problem,’ Adamsson said.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Annie said, offering her sweetest smile. ‘I’d hate to be a nuisance.’