The Cull by L.S. Caton

Author:L.S. Caton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd

Chapter 19

April 30th

I was sailing. Up and down, up and down. A rough passage. The phone woke me.

“How are you, Inspector? I do hope I didn’t wake you. Are you over the jet lag?” Larry Spicer. “I’m looking forward to showing you round our wonderful resort. I’ve sent a car over.”

“I can’t manage today.”

“Really? It’s all set up.”

“I’m busy.”

“Busy? Sight-seeing?”

“How about tomorrow?”

A pause. “Today really would be more convenient, Joe.” A longer pause. “Well, all right then, Inspector. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning. Better still, I’ll come and collect you myself. We’ll breakfast at my club. Seven-thirty suit you?”

I rang Debbie’s mobile.

“I was going to call, but I thought it was too early. What time is it?”

“Eight.”

“It’s one o’clock here. I’m having a lie down, baby’s kicking like mad. Did you get my message? I met up with Sandy, that’s the DC I was telling you about. She told me a couple of things. The pathologist says the knife lesions are more compatible with a left-hander. Kevin’s a left-hander, apparently, but not Dino. And they got the recording from Jeremy. It shows Kelso-Brown entering the building at six minutes past midnight. That would fit with what they said, him being driven home by Spicer then dropped at IFSA just after midnight. And he’s there until the police arrive at seven. Some of the time, when he’s in the corridors, he’s actually on the security camera footage. The lift is used a couple of times. Most of the time he’s in his office, which isn’t under direct surveillance. But the noise sensors keep going off. And he made a phone call at quarter past midnight to Hong Kong. They’re checking all the calls made from IFSA for the past few months.”

“And Spicer?”

“Spicer left Kelso-Brown at IFSA at twelve to drive to Heathrow, but his flight wasn’t until four. That gives him one hour unaccounted for.”

“You have to be there two hours early.”

She laughed. “You do. He flies first class, didn’t need to be there until three. That gives him three hours for a two hour drive, two hours maximum that time of night. There were no road works. I’ll check on the Heathrow parking. So the only two left with alibis are Kelso-Brown and Professor Hughes.”

“Where was he?”

She laughed. “With his latest woman, the randy old goat. Chinese girl who works at IFSA. And one more thing. Are you ready to congratulate me? I got the pathology results on three of the four Elmview residents who went green.”

“How did you manage that?”

She laughed. “Not difficult once you log onto their system. So much for all this patient confidentiality! I’ve sent them down to Jerry, only the results, no names.”

“You have been busy. How’s the baby? You just take care.”

“And you take care. Don’t tackle Spicer over there. Wait until he’s on our turf. Right?”

I was due to see Mrs Tarrant at two. I ordered room service, muffins and toast and juice, the continental-style breakfast, then opened Chavez’ folder.

Jim Tarrant was born in San Diego, California, father a welder, blue collar, mother a teacher.

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