When Angela finally rejoined Gary in the car she was flushed and slightly breathless from rushing. “Sorry I took so long to get here, Gary. I got held up.”
“No problem.” Gary misinterpreted what he was seeing and looked at her with concern. “Er, are you OK, guv?” he asked.
Angela smiled. Gary couldn’t know that inside she was tingling with excitement. “Oh yes. I’m feeling absolutely fine,” she replied. “I’ve been having a most interesting chat, and I’ve now got a new angle on this crime. I’ll tell you all about it back at the incident room.”
“Ah,” said Gary as he started up the engine. “Well, we certainly need something, don’t we?”
It didn’t take long for Angela to relay to her team the gist of her conversation with Gracie and Edith. While she spoke she watched their interest become engaged. Her excitement animated them. Quite apart from whatever progress might be made, any new line of enquiry was going to be better than the stalemate of the past few days.
“OK, everybody,” she called above a buzz that was going around the room. “It’s now quite late and we’re all tired. Well, I know I am. And we really need to get stuck in tomorrow. I want you all here first thing, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“Sure thing!” they chorused cheerfully in response. The atmosphere felt energized. Jim and Rick were trying to persuade the other three to join them at a new pub they’d found in Wimbledon Village. She could almost see the spring in their steps and could tell they were glad to have something to get their teeth into.
The next morning, Angela had just sent Jim and Rick to take a statement, Leanne and Derek had set off to gather evidence and she was about to ring Stanway when the telephone rang and she picked it up to hear the D.C.I.’s voice.
“Oh, sir, how amazing! I was just about to ring you.”
“Ah, good. My office in five minutes, if you please, Angie.”
“I’ll be there, sir.” Five minutes later, she was sitting opposite him and wondering if his inscrutable expression meant that he was in a good mood or a bad one.
“You first,” he said in a neutral tone of voice. Angela took a breath, marshalled her thoughts and, once again, recounted her conversation with Gracie and Edith. Stanway’s eyebrows rose to his receding hairline several times as she spoke and he made a couple of notes on the pad in front of him. He remained staring down at these after she had finished speaking.
“Hmm,” he remarked at length. “This is most interesting, Angela. If it pans out it could be the solution. I presume you’ve set the team hot on the trail.”
“Yes, sir. They’re all scurrying to their posts.”
“Good, good. Don’t lose sight of the other threads, though, and keep me closely informed.”
“I will, sir.”
There was a pause.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“You wanted to see me about something too.”
“Ah, yes.” Stanway cast another look down at what he’d written on his pad. “Hmm… I’ve had a complaint about you.”
Angela’s stomach gave a lurch. “Sir?”
“Yes. It was a beautiful evening yesterday, if you remember, and I was enjoying a gin and tonic in the bar of my golf club when Julia and Stephen Bickerstaff asked me if they might have a word.”
“Ah.” Angela’s pulse suddenly raced and she felt herself go hot.
“Mmm. They seemed to think their son had been more or less accused of murdering Petar Belic and they’re rather upset. They don’t want him put off his game, you see. Surely I could understand that at a time like this Stewart shouldn’t have any outside disturbances at all, etcetera. That was the gist anyway. I’m hoping, in the manner of these things, that whatever you said to Stewart has been changed along the way into what his parents now ‘think’ you said.”
Angela gave herself a moment to breathe deeply. “I can assure you I didn’t accuse him of anything, sir.”
Stanway cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.
“I did, however, ask him if he’d murdered Petar. But I asked him politely.”
A fleeting smile passed across Stanway’s face at the incongruity of this. “That’s how I thought it would have been, Angie.”
“Are they going to lodge a formal complaint?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think that was ever their intention. They’d find that a bit common and wouldn’t see the need when they’re such good friends with ‘Stanners’ at the golf club.”
“What did you tell them, sir?”
“I told them that Detective Inspector Costello is a very experienced and competent officer in whom I have every faith. I explained that sometimes in a murder enquiry it’s necessary to ask unpleasant questions and that Stewart shouldn’t worry himself unduly about it; it’s just part and parcel of the sometimes uncomfortable duties you’re obliged to carry out.”
Angela thought she saw the corners of Stanway’s mouth twitch. “Sir, is that the police version of ‘diddums’?”
He smiled. “Well, I didn’t like to say, ‘If he’s innocent he’s got nothing to worry about, so tell your son to grow up and get over it.’”
Angela smiled back. “Of course not. Were they reassured, do you think?”
“I think so. They thanked me for putting their minds at rest, anyway.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes, indeed.” Stanway looked down at his pad again. “In any case, if this new line of enquiry proves to be fruitful and if the evidence is sound, we’ve got far more important things to be thinking about, haven’t we?”
Angela rose. “We have indeed, sir. I’m on the case.”
“Check every detail twice, Angie.”
“I will, sir. Thank you.”
The incident room was strangely quiet when Angela returned to it a few moments later. Most of her team were out fulfilling the tasks she had assigned to them. While they were all busy she had to play a waiting game. Then it would be for her to add the last piece in the jigsaw. She decided to go to the club. Apart from the convenience of being on the spot, she might just get the chance to watch some tennis. She suddenly remembered that she still didn’t know how Philip had fared in his fourth-round match. By the time he and his opponent had got onto the court the previous evening it was quite late, and the game had been stopped because of bad light, with each player having won a set.
Almost the first thing she discovered on returning to the club was that Philip had just won through to the quarter-finals. This meant there would definitely be a British player in the semis and Angela could imagine what the sports media were making of this, already anticipating the possibility of Stewart getting to the finals. On impulse she hurried over to where the winning players were interviewed after each match. She managed to time it to perfection. She was almost the first person Philip saw on coming away from his interview. She caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up sign. He gave her a small, sad smile.
“You’re through to the quarters, Philip,” she said, with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “What a result; well done.”
Philip glanced down at his feet and sighed. “Yeah, thanks.”
They had kept moving as they spoke and Angela realized that there was nobody within earshot. “Philip,” she said, lowering her voice anyway, “you can’t live like this. You’ve improved enormously, you know you have, and you’ve got the potential for a really good, possibly brilliant, career in tennis.”
Philip brought his eyes up to hers. “Yeah, I know you’re right, but…”
“Even if you’re banned, it won’t last forever and he can’t tell on you without the whole story coming out, and that’s going to make him look bad. I can’t believe Stewart would want that; he’s jealous of his own reputation.”
Philip looked at her, narrowing his eyes as he listened. “Am I still on your list of suspects?”
“Wow, I never thought the day would come when someone would bring up being a suspect as a way of changing the subject.”
In spite of himself, Philip gave a small grin. “Shame it hasn’t worked.”
Angela smiled and pressed home what she prayed was her advantage. “Call his bluff and take whatever consequences come,” she urged.
“I wish I could,” he said. “But it’s more complicated than that.” He looked at her appraisingly. “How come you’re so easy to confide in?” he asked. “Is it part of police training?”
Angela laughed. “That’s just the way it is,” she said. “What’s more complicated than calling Stewart’s bluff and going for your shots?”
From his face it was clear that this was more distressing to Philip than being thought a suspect. “The thing is,” he began, “Tessa and I have become very close and it’s going very well. I feel… well, I feel that this is – could be – ‘the one’, as they say, you know? She’s a very special lady.”
Angela smiled. “That’s great. I’m glad for you and I hope it works out, but why does that make things worse?”
“Well, I – I really love her, Inspector. I daren’t tell her about – about Stewart and all that. How it started, I mean – the party. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our relationship.”
“Good grief! She wouldn’t hold that against you, surely?”
“Well, I don’t want her to find out about it. She thinks I’m as anti-drugs as she is. I am, of course, but if she gets to know about that party, well – I don’t want to risk it. She’s, you know, like I said before, she’s not like most of the others on the tour; she’s a churchgoing person – Mass and stuff.”
Angela remembered the book The Imitation of Christ that had been found in Tessa’s locker during the search. “All to the good,” she responded in a matter-of-fact voice. “Do you know what ‘stuff’ means?”
Philip looked at her, puzzled. “What?”
“It means she has an angle on the need for forgiveness and acceptance of human weakness. If she hasn’t, then she hasn’t been paying proper attention on Sunday mornings.”
Philip’s brow wrinkled. This was clearly a new thought for him. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Angela assured him.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” he replied. “I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving me and… She doesn’t get involved in… I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a lot of fun and we have a great time together, but… well, she’s clean-living and all that. She’s so good, you see. Lots of people say so, not just me.”
“Nonsense,” said Angela, allowing a brusque note to creep into her voice. “That’s a malicious rumour. She’s a flawed person just like the rest of us. You ask her and she’ll confirm what I’m saying. If she doesn’t,” she continued, “refer her to my earlier comment about not paying attention.” Philip laughed out loud at this and it was pleasant to see his whole face light up for a moment. “The thing is,” said Angela, “you need to get the sugar coating off this romance and get stuck in. Your relationship is going nowhere fast unless you’re prepared to trust each other. I bet Tessa would be shocked, and probably not too pleased, if she heard the assumptions you’re making about her.”
Philip was silent as he pondered this. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said eventually.
“Take a risk. Lay your burden down.”
Philip raised his head, a quizzical look on his face. “Are you telling me off?”
Angela laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
A chuckle escaped Philip’s lips and then his face became thoughtful. “I suppose I have put her – well, my tendency is to put women on a pedestal.”
“Not a comfortable place to be. Take it from me, Philip!”
Philip shook his head as if amazed at something. “Thanks, Inspector, you’ve been really helpful. I’d better go and find my coach now. He’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.”
Angela made her way to the police room. Just as the door closed behind her, she had a call. It was Jim.
“I think we’ve found your elusive memory, Angie,” he said.
“Oh yes? Tell me.”
“Yeah, in your interview with Candy Trueman… Ah yes, here it is.” Angela could imagine Jim scrolling down the computer screen as he read. “‘I don’t know if I ate something in that restaurant that disagreed with me but I woke up feeling awful. I couldn’t get going so I’m a little hazy about the time.’”
“Oh, bingo!”
“He could easily have slipped something into her cocoa that put her out for the count, couldn’t he?”
“Absolutely. Unfortunately we’ve still got the same problem…”
“Yes, I know, proving it. Even if we had enough evidence to ask her for a blood sample, whatever she took would have passed through her system by now.”
“Still,” said Angela, determined to look on the bright side, “at least Stewart’s alibi now looks a bit dodgy. I didn’t like the thought of him as the only suspect with one; it didn’t seem fair somehow.” She paused. Go on, Angie, she said to herself, be generous. Credit where credit’s due. Show a bit of mercy. “Well done, Jim,” she added.
She could hear the smile in his voice. “No probs, Angie. We’ll keep digging. You never know.”
As soon as she hung up, the telephone rang again. She sat up, alert. Derek had been sent out on an errand with Leanne, and Angie had told him to ring her at once with any news. “Yes?” she said, eagerly.
“It’s as you said, guv.”
“Fingerprints?”
“They check out.”
“And the samples themselves?”
“One hundred per cent H2O.”
“Bingo!” Angela punched the air.
“Also, guv, there’s something else.”
“Oh yes?”
“FI have been back to us about the Bel-Mor company finances.” Derek’s voice became muffled as he turned his head away from the phone. “Have you got those details, babes?” she heard him say, followed by an affirmative mumble from Leanne.
“Great stuff, Derek; put Leanne on, will you?”