Eve of Destruction: A Harry Devlin Mystery Read online

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,’ Harry said.

  ‘You’re the sleuth. I’m just another journalist.’ Ken’s modesty was bogus. A chief crime reporter on one of Liverpool’s leading newspapers, he had more experience of murder than most. Harry had invited him to share a liquid lunch, knowing that if anyone could supply inside information about the case, it would be Ken.

  ‘Come on. You drink with all the local cops.’

  ‘To say nothing of all the local lawyers, all the local magistrates and everyone else you can think of. Snag is, this investigation is being headed by a teetotal Geordie I’ve never met before. His public relations skills make the Khmer Rouge look matey. Luckily, a sergeant on his team happens to owe me a couple of favours. So if you’re interested in the case, we may be able to do each other a bit of good. And on your track record, I wouldn’t bet against you putting your finger on the truth before this bugger from Newcastle.’

  ‘Remember what the stockbrokers say. Past performance is no guide to the future.’

  ‘Load of crap,’ Ken said breezily. ‘You fit the offender profile perfectly. A recidivist amateur sleuth.’

  ‘Listen, my interest in the case is purely professional.’

  ‘Meaning what, exactly?’

  Harry leaned across the table, so that his whisper could be heard through the Dock Brief’s usual midday hubbub. ‘The murdered woman, Becky Whyatt, is married to a client of mine.’

  Ken almost choked on a mouthful of beer. ‘Now I see why you were keen to meet. Your man is right in the police’s firing line, if that isn’t an offensive phrase in the circumstances. Doesn’t look good, does it? A pair of lovers are blown away and the killer is so pumped-up that he has no hesitation in murdering a teenage girl who stumbles across his crime. I’d say the cuckolded husband is a prime suspect. Les Beeding, the Geordie, doesn’t strike me as a fellow who will ignore the obvious. Thank your stars he hasn’t arrested Whyatt already.’

  ‘Even this Beeding must find the total lack of evidence a handicap.’ Harry sounded more confident than he felt. He’d left Steven Whyatt to decide whether or not he was prepared to tell the police about the tape-recorded conversations. Yet even if he did, that was not in itself a proof of innocence.

  ‘Don’t bank on it. That’s one thing the police have in common with my profession. When the facts threaten to get in the way, we start making up a few of our own.’ Ken lifted his glass and allowed his cherubic features to relax into the innocent grin that disarmed so many people into telling him too much. ‘Have another?’

  ‘I’m buying.’ Harry soon returned from the bar with one foaming pint and an orange juice. He did not believe in trying to stay the course with Ken. In any event, breathing in the air of the Dock Brief for an hour or two was enough to give all but the most hardened drinker a hangover. ‘What can you tell me about the murders? Could it be …’ he hesitated briefly, ‘a professional job?’

  ‘Hitman, you mean?’ Ken shrugged. ‘Too early to say, but I gather the indications are against it. This was hardly a series of clinical executions. Shots were fired all over the place and more blood was splashed around than you’d find in the average abattoir. Seems as though our man went berserk.’

  ‘Man? Could it have been a woman?’

  Ken wiped the froth from his mouth. ‘Possible, I suppose. Provided she had access to a shotgun and knew how to use it. Who do you have in mind? Revill’s wife?’

  ‘Why not? Her motive matched my client’s.’

  ‘Are you sure? What about the insurance?’

  Harry frowned. ‘You heard about that?’

  ‘I do have my sources,’ Ken said smugly. ‘Anyway, you needn’t worry on behalf of your Mr Whyatt just yet. We won’t be printing the incriminating stuff in this evening’s edition.’

  ‘Only because you won’t be able to get it past the libel lawyers.’

  ‘As you well know, lawyers spell trouble. Anyway, keep your writ in your back pocket, will you?’

  Harry sighed. ‘What about the weapon?’

  ‘Not found. Seems Dominic Revill was a licensed shotgun owner. He and his pals would blow the occasional pheasant to kingdom come. Bet the pheasants are pissing themselves with laughter now, eh? The word is, though, that the gun in question had not been touched. Which suggests that either he held another weapon illegally and someone used it to kill him, or else the murderer brought the gun to the scene of the crime and took it away afterwards. Either way, Beeding is desperate to track it down. Truth is, though, he hasn’t the faintest idea about where to start looking. Question is, would your client have had access to a shotgun?’

  ‘If you’re not already aware of it, I may as well tell you that guns are on sale in the so-called country sports department of the garden centre he runs with his brother.’

  Ken smiled his genial not-to-worry smile, but Harry guessed that mentally the journalist was convicting Steven Whyatt of the killings at that very moment. ‘Thanks, you may have saved me a visit.’

  ‘You ought to make the trip to Hale. Take a look at the brother, for instance.’

  Arching his eyebrows, Ken said, ‘And why would I want to do that?’

  ‘Jeremy Whyatt is ex-SAS. Just the sort to have an itchy trigger finger. During his time in the forces, he killed a man.’

  ‘Isn’t that what the forces are all about, killing people?’

  ‘Not outside nightclubs in Hamburg.’

  ‘Listen, if you’d visited a few Hamburg bars, you’d realise the potential for justifiable homicide. They make Liverpool nightlife seem as peaceful as an Oxford common room. I tell you, it’s a wonder the Beatles ever came back from there alive. All the same, I’ll bear in mind what you say about the brother.’

  ‘And what about Emma Revill? I’ve met her a couple of times and I don’t think I’d like to make an enemy of her. As a matter of fact, the Revills were supposed to be finding a locum conveyancer for Jim and me to cover Sylvia’s maternity leave.’ Harry gave a bleak grin. ‘I suppose it would be in bad taste to ring up today and ask Emma if she’s had any news. Even so, the woman scorned must have as great a motive as the husband deceived, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Ken chuckled. ‘There speaks the defence lawyer. Sorry I can’t come up with any more suspects of my own.’

  ‘No need. I can also offer you Becky Whyatt’s first husband. Recently released from Ashworth Hospital, I understand.’

  ‘Bloody hell. You’ve been doing a lot of homework. And all as billable time, I suppose.’

  ‘A man’s got to eat.’

  ‘I never knew a lawyer starve. Thanks for the background, anyway – and keep in touch. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything. It’s certainly worth my digging around to see what I can find.’ He put down his glass. ‘Not now, though. I have other fish to fry.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Ken beamed. ‘I’ve lined up an exclusive interview with the boy who found the bodies. He’s keen to tell our readers about the traumatic nature of his discovery. Claims he wandered in there looking for odd jobs to earn a bit of pocket money, although I have my doubts. The lad’s mum wanted to drive a hard bargain over the story, but when we pointed out that the alternative to exclusive access was a scissors-and-paste piece which would inevitably mention her own encounters with the Street Offences Act, she began to change her tune.’ A sly wink. ‘I’ve always been a great believer in freedom of information. Especially if it means I don’t have to pay for it.’

  The streets around Fenwick Court seemed strangely quiet as Harry made his way to the office. He guessed that everyone was spending their lunch hour stretched out on the grass by the Parish Church or in Chavasse Park, soaking up the sun. He headed straight to his partner’s room and found Jim flicking through an epitome of title. It was easy to guess that his thoughts were far removed from the dusty technicalities of restrictive covenants and rights of way.

  ‘How is John?’

  ‘Doing fine, thanks. He should
be home soon.’

  ‘Tremendous. I’m so pleased. And Heather?’

  ‘She’s calmed down. Last night she shed a few tears, but I think it was out of sheer relief. You know what mothers are like. At first she thought the boy was dying. Of course it made matters worse that I wasn’t there to lend a hand. Good job she hasn’t guessed how I was occupying myself that night, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Water under the bridge,’ Harry said. ‘Isn’t it?’

  Jim stared at the copperplate deeds. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Lynn yet?’

  A shake of the head. ‘Failure of courage.’

  ‘Perhaps there isn’t anything left to say.’

  ‘You may be right. She hasn’t rung me either.’

  Harry kept his counsel. He hoped to be talking to DC DeFreitas later in the day, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for his partner to know about that. The last thing he wanted was to be pressed into service as a messenger boy. He said carefully, ‘Did you know that Dominic Revill has been murdered?’

  ‘Lucy told me. I also gather that we act for the widower. Tell me something. Am I right in supposing that your sudden interest in appointing Revill Recruitment to act for us was not entirely a coincidence?’

  ‘I cannot tell a lie,’ Harry said. ‘At least not when I’m sure to be found out. You are correct. Steven Whyatt’s case has been bothering me for several days.’

  Jim grunted. ‘I think I’ll be happier if you don’t tell me why. I just hope he won’t turn out to be the murderer.’

  ‘No guarantee of that, I’m afraid. But I’m hoping that he will be here in an hour’s time with a cheque for a payment on account of fees.’

  A slow smile spread across Jim’s face. ‘I’m beginning to like the sound of him. Can’t believe a man so straight in financial dealings could possibly be a wife killer.’

  When Whyatt arrived, he explained that he had decided to follow Harry’s advice. The police had paid him a visit not ten minutes after Harry had left for town and had urged him again to take part in their public appeal for anyone who had been in the vicinity of St Alwyn’s to come forward. Whyatt had played for time, saying that he needed to consult his solicitor.

  ‘They didn’t like that,’ he said. ‘You should have seen the woman constable’s face when I mentioned your name.’

  Harry could picture it. ‘So how did you leave it with them?’

  ‘I said I’d be back in touch as soon as I’d spoken to you. I’d like you to be with me when I tell them about the tapes. I can tell it’s going to be a bumpy conversation.’

  ‘Shall I give them a call now?’

  ‘I think that would be best.’

  It took Harry a couple of minutes to get through to Lynn DeFreitas at the Admiral Street police station which was the local headquarters of the Regional Crime Squad. When she recognised his voice, he heard a sharp intake of breath, but when she spoke, her tone was calmly professional. She resisted the temptation to express histrionic surprise when Harry said that his client had fresh information to provide and that he would wish to be accompanied by his solicitor when he disclosed it.

  ‘I don’t want you to gain a false impression,’ he said mildly. ‘Mr Whyatt is still in a state of shock, as you would expect in the circumstances. When you first spoke to him, he found it impossible to take in the full horror of what had happened. But he is trying to do so and that is why he wishes to speak to you again. He wishes to do everything in his power to help you catch the perpetrator of this appalling crime.’

  ‘So he is willing to participate in the press conference we have arranged for four o’clock? I do hope so. Mrs Revill will be there and it is important for Mr Whyatt to attend as well. We would find his absence difficult to explain to the press, especially when we rely so much on their help in cases like this.’

  She was a smooth operator, Harry decided. No wonder she’d been more than a match for Jim Crusoe. ‘I’ll need to take instructions.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll give him appropriate advice. So we meet here in half an hour?’

  At the police station, Lynn greeted Harry with a crisp handshake. No-one could have guessed the circumstances of their last encounter. ‘I’ll be accompanied by Detective Sergeant Pardoe,’ she explained, introducing a stocky grey-haired man with a seen-it-all manner. Harry guessed that the divisional superintendent had been careful to team a young woman who was probably being groomed for stardom with a case-hardened veteran of many a major enquiry. From the police point of view, this was potentially a breakthrough meeting: they would not want to risk putting a foot wrong through an excess of youthful enthusiasm.

  Coffee was organised and they all sat down in a small stuffy room. Harry loosened his tie and suggested that the windows might be kept open but Pardoe shook his head with a glimmer of a smile. ‘Sorry, Mr Devlin. Painted shut.’

  Harry gave a resigned nod and invited Whyatt to explain why he wanted to talk. The two detectives listened intently as he described how he had decided to tape his wife’s telephone calls and the gist of the various conversations on which he and Harry had eavesdropped. Neither Lynn nor Pardoe betrayed emotion as they heard out his tale. The police had, Harry felt sure, already decided that if Steven Whyatt was a murderer, he would not break down easily. Their game plan would be to play it long and wait for him to make a mistake. Even when Whyatt told them how, early that morning, he had incinerated the tapes in a state of panic, they reacted with sorrowful puzzlement rather than anger.

  ‘So, Mr Devlin, you can corroborate what your client is telling us, can you?’ the sergeant asked.

  ‘Yes. His recall is very good.’

  ‘Given the subject matter,’ Whyatt said bitterly, ‘perhaps that is hardly surprising.’

  Pardoe asked a series of questions about Jeremy Whyatt’s time in the army and role in the family business before turning to his relationship with Becky. ‘How close were they, do you think?’

  ‘They were in-laws, they always got on reasonably well together, but Michelle was her pal, rather than Jeremy.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘If – if you believe they were lovers, I can disillusion you. Jeremy has many vices, but I don’t believe infidelity is one of them. And I’m quite sure he wasn’t Becky’s type either.’

  ‘What was her type?’

  Whyatt took a deep breath. ‘How can I describe it? Becky was not a particularly intelligent woman, but she had pretensions. Muscle-bound men held little appeal for her. I didn’t fit that bill, neither so far as I can gather did this man Revill. And her first husband was cut out of the same cloth. He worked in a building society by day but played in a band by night. She seldom spoke about him and when she did mention his name her attitude was scathing, but I gather he was always a dreamer. That was what she had in common with him, I suppose. He had hopes of making it in the music business, whilst she spent half her life devouring romantic tosh. When she realised he was never going to make anything of his life, she began to play around. He found out and became insanely jealous. And finished up in a psychiatric hospital for his pains.’

  Lynn checked her watch and rose to her feet. ‘The press conference is due to start in ten minutes.’

  ‘I really don’t …’

  She looked at him sternly. ‘We need you to speak to the media, Mr Whyatt. We must have help from you as well as the man in the street if we’re to catch whoever committed these crimes. And, let’s be quite frank, if you decline, how do you think that will look to the journalists out there looking for a good story?’

  Whyatt scowled. ‘If you insist.’

  ‘Of course, you understand,’ Lynn said, with a return to sweetness, ‘that your participation is purely voluntary.’

  The sergeant led the way out of the airless room, Whyatt by his side. Harry found himself a few steps behind, side-by-side with Lynn. ‘I’m sorry about the other night,’ he said as the others disappeared round a corner.

 
She half-closed her eyes and said tightly, ‘One of those things.’

  They came to a halt and he faced her. He had to admire his partner’s taste. She was a slender, clear-eyed woman, quiet yet determined. Not many men would fail to be tempted by her if the opportunity arose, but instinct told him that she would seldom allow it to arise. He said gently, ‘Not to Jim, it wasn’t.’

  ‘No, I realise that.’

  ‘I’ve known him a long time. His wife too.’

  ‘Yes. He – he’s often spoken about you.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  She managed a wan smile. ‘He seems alternately to despair of and envy you.’

  ‘Not much to envy.’

  ‘He says you are free.’

  ‘That’s one word for it. I can think of others.’

  ‘And I know you’re honest. At least as honest as someone doing your job can be. I know it was you who encouraged Whyatt to talk to us.’

  ‘There was no sensible alternative.’

  ‘Not every brief would see it that way.’ The tip of her tongue passed across her lips, a mannerism he found infinitely appealing. ‘Look – I’m not a scarlet woman, you know. Or a homebreaker.’

  ‘I never thought you were.’

  ‘I didn’t seriously expect that Jim would leave Heather and his kids for me.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘It’s just that … oh, I can’t explain how I felt.’

  ‘Neither can Jim,’ Harry said, ‘neither can any of us.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  The idea came to Harry midway through the press conference, when Steven Whyatt said, ‘I tried to bring her the happiness she had failed to find in her first marriage.’ While the assembled reporters scribbled frantically, Harry thought back to an incident earlier in the day and at last connected it with something his client had told Detective Sergeant Pardoe. All at once, he wanted to be out checking to see if he had guessed right, but he had to stay and hear his client out. Ken Cafferty and the reporters were paying lip service only to the common decencies. They knew that Whyatt was the obvious suspect and they were interrogating him about his relationship with Becky with a zeal unconstrained by the rigours of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act.