Ed wasn’t too worried about the lack of response from Billie. He knew the little guy was being extra cautious about communications, and the lessons he’d learned that afternoon had reinforced his own opinions. Mess with these guys and you’ll need strong medication—a lesson he could testify to personally.
It was early evening, another painkiller in forty minutes, then he was going to check out the hotel health club for some recommended water therapy. He hoped they had swimwear in a large, otherwise his jockey shorts would have to serve. He should have asked Robin to go shopping, but the poor guy had taken himself off for a walk somewhere, still upset over his error with Billie’s phone.
It had gone to GMP headquarters, their own tracker confirmed that. So perhaps the police were the good guys after all. Robin had insisted he get some rest, but Ed felt too wired to sleep. He’d sent a group WhatsApp two hours ago and Chrissie had responded almost immediately. He checked his phone again. Didn’t seem Billie had even picked it up yet.
Robin had left him a book, but he had no inclination to read. None of the Fersen family were readers, except possibly Chrissie, but then she always had been one for doing things different to other folk. Boredom was a terrible thing for an engineer. He needed something to do with his hands. Something. Anything.
He swung his right leg off the bed, then used his arms to help his left do the same as he’d been shown in the hospital. It was a short stretch to the window, and the view was something else. If only he knew what he was looking at.
‘Surprise!’ Robin’s voice behind him, striding through the door with a floral bouquet held out like a riot officer’s shield. ‘And don’t pretend your hay fever’s kicking off. This is my way of saying sorry for not loving you enough.’
Ed blinked, genuinely touched, and surprised. While Robin had been his usual caring self at the hospital last week, today he had seemed colder and distracted by the business with Billie’s phone.
‘You dope! You bought me flowers last week. There’s no need.’
‘There’s every need. You and me need a little downtime together. A little privacy too. Know what I mean?’
Their embrace was warm and tender, but Ed still stifled a wince.
‘Sorry. There’s something else.’ Robin placed his first peace offering on the desk by the window, then pulled a pair of swimming trunks patterned in lilac, pink and green from his jacket pocket. ‘A little number I thought might come in useful later?’
Ed’s smile broadened into a grin. ‘Oh, you lovely creature… you read my mind.’
‘No, but I saw you looking at the brochure! The colour should match your bruises. Now let me take a quick shower and we’ll get going. There’s a table booked in forty minutes.’
The door to the bathroom snapped firmly shut. Two minutes and so much extra colour. Ed looked from one gift to the other and counted himself truly blessed. As he examined the variety of blooms in the arrangement, a tinny version of Yankee-doodle-dandy started up next to the bed. A London number on the display.
‘I’m looking for Mr Edward Fersen.’
A female voice, her opening gambit typical of so many marketing calls. His response was automatic. ‘Could be. What are you selling?’
‘I’m not selling anything, Mr Fersen. This is Detective Sergeant Pauline Baker from the Metropolitan Police. I’m making some routine enquiries following an incident in Salford, Manchester last week.’
Ed eased himself carefully back onto the bed, unsure how to answer. He could hear noises in the bathroom. ‘I guess it is. Hold on a sec… did you say Metropolitan Police? Not Manchester?’
‘That’s right.’ Her tone was polite, almost friendly, intended to put him at ease. ‘I’m part of a small team following up some enquiries on another incident. The report of what happened to you in the car park came through to us because there was something in your statement that might connect to our own investigation, and I’d just like to check it with you, if you don’t mind.’
Ed’s curiosity was aroused. He could not imagine what might interest an officer in London, but he couldn’t see any risk in confirming his statement.
‘Do you remember what you said about Peter Gris?’ she asked.
‘What?’ Now he felt his heart rate surge. ‘No! No, I don’t remember that. What did I say? I was in hospital at the time. Maybe the drugs… sorry, I don’t remember this. What did I say?’
‘Yes, I understand, Mr Fersen. You’d been involved in a collision with a vehicle and were probably affected by shock on top of any medication. That’s why we need to check. I’ll read it back to you: “I know who was responsible. Peter Gris just tried to kill me. Not him, but one of his sort. It must have been Gris.” Do you remember now?’
‘It doesn’t make sense.’ Ed was trying to think back to the conversation with the young male police officer at his bedside. All he could remember was a pair of startling blue eyes.
Robin padded naked out of the bathroom, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ as he reached for the wardrobe doors. Ed shook his head in response.
‘Did I really say that?’
The voice on the phone was still friendly, almost cheerful. ‘You did sign it as being a true statement, Mr Fersen. But that’s why I needed to make this call. There must have been a reason why you said that. It does seem an odd thing for anyone to say, weeks after Mr Gris had died.’
The words slipped out. ‘He’s not dead.’
‘I’m sorry?’
Robin pulled on a pair of underpants and sat on the edge of the bed, alarmed at his perception of the conversation.
‘Could you repeat that, Mr Fersen?’ Her tone more excited now.
‘I said he’s not dead. In fact, I’m sure of it. With all that we know now… it’s obvious.’
Robin could bear it no longer. ‘Who are you talking to? Ed? Who is this?’
‘Sorry, officer. Just a second.’ He muted the call. ‘Metropolitan Police. They want to know about Gris. This could be what we need.’
‘Could be? Are you mad? Ed! We can’t report this yet! And that… it’s just a person on the phone. It could be anyone!’
Another voice on the line. Male this time. ‘Mr Fersen? Mr Fersen, are you there? This is Commander Neville O’Brien from the Metropolitan Police. Hello?’
‘I’m here. Have you some way of confirming your identity?’
‘I’m glad you asked me that. Assuming you have access to the internet, go to the Met Police website and use the search bar to type the word “Pentland”. Don’t bother yourself too much with the information on that page. Just use the direct dial number shown and I’ll be waiting on the other end. Got that?’
‘Got it.’ The connection ended, and Ed gave Robin the same instructions. Reluctantly he obliged, letting Ed see the number to redial. This time he put the call on hands-free so that Robin could hear. The same voice responded.
‘O’Brien.’
‘It’s Ed Fersen.’
‘Thanks for calling me back, Mr Fersen. I can understand your concerns. Is it okay to talk?’
‘I have my partner here with me, Robin Hazell. We’d both like to hear what you’ve got to say.’
‘I don’t doubt it, but let’s see what we’ve each got to offer. My understanding is you believe the former politician Peter Gris is not actually dead, and that someone acting on his behalf used a vehicle to attack you last Thursday 18th August?’
‘Correct.’
‘Can your partner corroborate that?’
Robin shook his head. Ed raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘No, but my friend Billie Vane can. He saw the whole thing.’
‘And would he have similar reasons to suspect Peter Gris of being responsible?’
‘He’d have a whole lot more!’ Ed felt relatively at ease now. The cavalry had finally showed up.
‘We need to talk. Are you still in Manchester?’
‘At the Hilton on Deansgate. Just another couple of days. My friend’s not in town, but I’ll make sure I get him back here pretty quickly.’ Another quizzical look from Robin.
‘Do that, please. I’ll be travelling up from London first thing tomorrow morning with another member of my team. Your safety is paramount, so please can I ask you to stay where you are and keep alert for any further incidents. You have this number, but I’ll contact you again to confirm a time when we can meet. Okay?’
‘Fine with me.’
While the content of the call filled one party with a measure of apprehension, the other was celebrating a breakthrough. Adrenalin and urgency governed the former commander’s next actions as he turned to the girl next to him.
‘Good work, Pauline. It’s a slim chance but worth following up. I’ll use my own car. Give DI Palmer a call and say I need her to be ready for an early start. We’re going up to her home turf.’
The girl smiled. ‘I’ll try. I think Emily’s out on a hot date tonight though. Am I to tell her about Mr Fersen?’
He was already at the door. ‘Tell her nothing. I’ll fill her in when I’m good and ready.’