Murder in Hampstead: a classic whodunnit in a contemporary setting by Sabina Manea

Author:Sabina Manea [Manea, Sabina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Folks contemporary fiction publisher
Published: 2021-04-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

DCI Carliss looked at the time and hoped his interviewee wouldn’t be in court. The phone didn’t ring for long, and the clerk put him through straightaway.

‘Hello, John Walker speaking.’ A rigid, expertly honed advocate’s voice.

‘Mr Walker. I’m sorry to bother you at work. It’s Detective Chief Inspector David Carliss from the Metropolitan Police. It’s about the death of Professor Alla Kiseleva. I wondered if you could spare a few minutes. Just a follow-up from your statement.’

John Walker sounded unimpressed. ‘Yes, if you must. I’ve already imparted everything I know to your colleagues. I’m in the middle of something, so can you please make it quick?’

Carliss wasn’t used to being addressed in this manner. The criminal barristers he knew were considerably more gracious – probably because they earned a lot less. ‘I’ll be very quick. About ten days ago you went to visit the Professor at Beatrice Hall and were heard arguing with her. Can you tell me what that was about?’

The detective got his deserved comeuppance. The line was silent for a second or two, long enough to confirm that John Walker had been caught on the back foot. ‘Oh yes, that. Silly thing really. I’d forgotten about it altogether. The fence between our gardens had started leaning over. I went through the title deeds, and it emerged the Professor was responsible for mending it. I paid her a visit to let her know, politely of course, that this was the case. She disagreed. We had a robust discussion, but she relented. She had the fence replaced a few days after, so that was the end of it.’

It was a credible enough explanation, as well as conveniently unverifiable unless Mrs Byrne had been eavesdropping. That was easy to check, but Carliss doubted that a man like John Walker would be so stupid as to produce a lie that could be easily exposed.

‘Thank you for clearing that up, Mr Walker. That’s all from me. Have a good day.’

The abruptness with which the receiver was replaced at the other end suggested the barrister wasn’t accustomed to having to explain himself, especially not to a policeman with ideas above his station.

Carliss looked at his daily to-do list. On the case of Professor Alla Kiseleva, there was only one outstanding task to be completed – an appointment with her solicitor. Morris Llewellyn LLP was nestled at the Strand end of Chancery Lane. Having been bequeathed its substantial offices in the 1890s, it had held its own against the larger marauders responsible for inflating commercial property prices. The more recent glass extension would have undoubtedly offended the Victorian sensibilities of Sir Peregrine Morris, conservative as it may have been compared to its neighbours’ bombastic efforts. The Professor’s will fell under the jurisdiction of Julius Platt, a descendant of the other co-founder by a tortuous route. The small meeting room was in the newer part of the building, bland but adequately equipped. Julius Platt did not keep the DCI waiting for long. He had just made partner, an achievement which had regrettably coincided with the birth of his first child.

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