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13
High tide had pushed into the inner harbour and the boats tied up along Oxmarket Quay towered over me as I headed south, past a forest of masts and radar grilles and satellite pods. The clock tower on the town hall could be seen above the steeply pitched roofs and dormer windows. I skirted piles of lobster creels and great heaps of tangled green fishing net. Skippers and crew were off loading supplies from vans and four-by-fours on to trawlers and small fishing boats, today nowhere near over before preparations were being made for tomorrow. Overhead the gulls wheeled endlessly, scraps of white against a clear blue sky, catching the midday sun and calling to the gods.
At Buckingham Avenue I looked along the length of this pedestrianized street with its ornamental flowerbeds and wrought iron benches. On a Friday and Saturday night it would be thick with teenagers gathering in groups and cliques
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COUNTER MEASURES 14
She came immediately and I studied her attentively in view of DI Silver’s revelations. She was certainly beautiful in her white dress with a rosebud on the shoulder. She was holding a matching clutch bag that was covered in silk rosebuds.I explained the circumstances that had brought me to Chandos Avenue, eyeing her very closely, but she showed only what seemed to be genuine astonishment, with no signs of uneasiness. She spoke of Captain Godden indifferently with tepid approval, it was only at the mention of John Kately did she approach animation.“That man’s a crook,” she said sharply. “I told the Old Man so, but he wouldn’t listen – constantly investing money for his plumbing business.”“Are you sorry that your father is dead?”She stared at me.“Of course. But over the years I’ve learnt to keep my emotions in check, so I don’t indulge in sob st
COUNTER MEASURES 15
The music from Turntable was pulsating in the Cellar & Kitchen, competing with the babble of voices and drink-induced laughter. I ordered a pint for me and a brandy and lemonade for Kimberley and we leaned on the bar and waited for the barmaid to finish serving us. The place was heaving, all the tables were full and a crowd three or four deep were gathered round the bar. The windows were all steamed up, like the majority of the locals who had been there from the start of the gig. Our drinks arrived, thumped down in a beer puddle on the bar. I dropped my money in the same puddle and caught the look the barmaid threw me. She swept the money into her hand and returned a moment later with a beer towel to wipe the counter dry. I gave her a winning smile and she replied with a sullen scowl.&nb
COUNTER MEASURES 16
After the helicopter had left, the man who had replaced Zoë as Oxmarket’s local GP, joined us and gave us all the information that I required. Ian Hammond had been found lying near the window, his head by the marble window-seat. There were two wounds, one between the eyes and the other, the fatal one, on the back of the head. “He was lying on his back?” “Yes. There is the mark.” He pointed to a small dark stain on the floor. “Couldn’t the blow on the back of the head have been caused when it hit the floor?” DI Silver asked.Much to her annoyance I had sent Kimberley off to use the many facilities available to the guests within the restored grand Neo-Jacobean mansion. They varied from a twenty metre p
COUNTER MEASURES 17
The bar was empty except for Sir William Frederick Patterson who was sitting by himself playing patience in an alcove formed by the left hand of three bow windows. We walked across the heavy carpet, noticing the rich background music of Hans Zimmer filling the room. “You must be Detective Inspector Paul Silver and John Handful, the consulting private detective,” he said as we came up. “And you must be Sir William Frederick Patterson.” DI Silver responded, sharply. “Please join me,” he said waving to two chairs that faced him. “Just let me finish this. Drink?” “Yes, please.” I said and we sat down and waited. He beckoned to the barman who came over
COUNTER MEASURES 18
We entered the imposing circular dining room, and stood for a few moments at the wide double-doored entrance. I casually looked around and could almost smell the affluence in the room from the few guests already seated for lunch. The room was filled with round tables, covered with immaculately white tablecloths and fresh flowers in the centre of each, beneath bright crystal-like chandeliers. Even the gleaming cutlery appeared to be silver. The head waiter greeted us and led the way to one of the smaller tables in a comparatively quieter part of the dining room. Once we were seated the head waiter barely waved a hand and a waitress dressed in a creamy white blouse and a slim black skirt with dark tights arrived with the menus and I ordered a large bottle of sparkling mineral water. We perused the menus in silence until the waitress returned with the water and poured two glasses.&
COUNTER MEASURES 19
The day after I returned from Onehouse Island, Maria Ashe, was waiting for me in my outer eight by ten office and I motioned her into the room with the door marked “PRIVATE,” and shut the door behind me. She was an attractive red-head in her early thirties and she had hired me to find out if her husband was having an affair. We had first met at the café, Julie’s Place. She had been nervous about hiring me. A newbie. Some could get cold feet. Others had feet of clay. They wanted someone to peek behind the curtains, but they are frightened of what they might find. She had used the phrase “seeing someone else” which sounded politely courteous coming from her lips. Most spouses tended to voice their mistrust in cruder terms. &nb
COUNTER MEASURES 20
Mortuaries were places where the dead stopped being people and turned instead into being bags of meat, offal, blood and bone. I had never been sick at the scene of a crime, but the first few times I had visited a mortuary the contents of my stomach had fairly quickly nearly been rendered up for examination. Eventually, the body bag was brought into the post-mortem room and the corpse of Vasily Kutziyez was laid out on the autopsy table, beneath the hum and glare of powerful halogen lighting. The room was antiseptic with a stinging aroma of chemicals. Voices were kept muffled, not so much out of respect but from a strange kind of fear. The mortuary, after all, was one vast memento mori and what was happening to Vasily Kutziyez’s body would serve to remind each and every one of us that if the body were a temple, then it was possible to loot the temple and scatter its treasures and reveal its preciou
COUNTER MEASURES 21
Professor Stephen Baker took almost another two hours to complete the autopsy after breaking for lunch. He ate a vegetarian curry consisting of organic mushrooms and potato’s, washed down with a slimline tonic at The Grinning Rat, before rejoining us at the Oxmarket Police Station to tell us what he’d had for lunch and of course his findings. “Not all the relevant tests have been completed yet.” He began, as we gathered in DI Silver’s small cramped office. “Time scale?” DI Silver asked abruptly. “A few more days, I’m afraid.” the pathologist replied. “I think you’ll find not only did he drink two bottles of red wine but he also snorted a line of cocaine as well.” &n
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