‘What’s that?’
‘Remember I mentioned earlier that mandies are still popular in South Africa? One of the articles talked of a massive cache of powdered methaqualone disappearing underground there during the last days of the National Party, when apartheid ended.’
‘But that was in the early nineties,’ said Banks. ‘Over twenty years ago.’
‘That’s right.’
‘When you say “massive”...?’
‘About a ton.’
‘Bugger me! Sorry. But a ton?’
‘I agree. It is rather a lot.’
‘Enough that it might still be in use today?’
‘Possibly. If it’s being kept under the right conditions. Nobody ever found it.’
‘So we’re after a South African killer?’
‘Or someone who visited that part of the world recently.’
Laurence Hadfield, again. The Pandora charm, and now the Mandrax. Banks finished his tea. ‘Thanks, Jazz,’ he said. ‘As usual, you’ve raised more questions than you’ve answered, but I’m very grateful.’
12
When Anthony Randall entered the interview room late that Wednesday afternoon, he was wearing a well-tailored grey suit, complete with buttoned waistcoat. He brought with him his solicitor, a hunched, shiny-domed fellow of about his own age, called Brian Liversedge. Annie had never come across him before, and had no idea why Randall should think he needed a lawyer, but she bade Liversedge courteously to sit down.
‘You know,’ she said to Randall, ‘you’re not under arrest or being charged with anything. You’re not even under caution. You’re merely here as a courtesy to help us with our inquiries.’
‘Yes,’ said Randall. ‘I’m well aware of that. All the same, I feel more comfortable with Mr Liversedge present, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Of course,’ said Annie, giving Gerry a sideways glance. Gerry shuffled the papers on the table in front of her. ‘Do you mind if we record this interview?’ Annie asked.
‘I have no objection,’ said Randall. He pulled at his trousers before crossing his legs, so the creases would hold, and clasped his hands loosely in his lap.
He seemed perfectly at ease, Annie thought, which made her feel more convinced that he knew something. He ought to be more nervous that they had asked for an official interview at the station after their last chat at his home. She decided not to offer coffee or tea.
After the formalities for the recording, she began, ‘When we spoke on Monday, you admitted to calling Laurence Hadfield three times on the Saturday he disappeared. Am I correct?’
‘Yes,’ answered Randall. ‘But your use of the term “admitted” implies that I had been somehow previously withholding this information, or that the omission is in some way blameworthy.’
‘Not at all,’ said Annie. ‘A simple matter of fact.’
‘Then yes. I informed you that I had telephoned Larry on Saturday. I had no way of knowing that he had disappeared. I had no reason to think anything was wrong.’
‘Yes, you mentioned that before. One of your reasons for calling was to confirm a round of golf for the following day, right?’
‘Sunday. Yes.’
‘Did you do that?’
‘Yes we did.’
‘Which phone call?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘There were three. Remember? 3.59 p.m. 8.02 p.m. and 11.26 p.m.’
‘Oh, I see. I honestly don’t remember. Probably the first one. Does it matter?’
‘We’re simply trying to work on the timing here.’
‘Then I’m sorry. I don’t know for certain, only that it was mentioned.’
‘And Mr Hadfield agreed to play.’
‘Yes.’
‘But he didn’t turn up.’
‘That right. I’ve already told you this.’
‘Why did you call him at eleven twenty-six, Dr Randall, if you had already arranged to play golf with him the following morning?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose I had something to tell him.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t recall.’
‘You didn’t leave a message.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I dislike leaving messages.’
‘I see. You just wanted to chat?’
‘No. There was something I — that’s right. Now I remember! I had the time wrong earlier. I had told him we were teeing off at nine-thirty, but it was actually nine o’clock. I didn’t want him to be late.’
‘So you phoned him back at eleven twenty-six to tell him that?’
‘Yes.’
‘But when he failed to answer, you didn’t leave a message to give him that simple piece of information because you don’t like leaving messages?’
‘That’s right.’
Gerry slid her pad over so Annie could read what she had scribbled on it, though they had agreed on this strategy before the interview began. It helped unnerve a complacent interviewee sometimes. After a moment’s thought and a frown, Annie asked, ‘What was your first thought when Mr Hadfield didn’t answer your eleven o’clock call?’
‘Thought? Nothing really. I mean, he clearly wasn’t there so I hung up. Maybe I was a bit annoyed.’
‘You weren’t worried? You didn’t think something might have happened to him?’
‘Why would I think that?’
‘It was quite late. There could have been a break-in, something like that. He could have been hurt.’
‘That may be the way you think, but it never crossed my mind.’
‘Surely a few possibilities must have run through your mind?’
‘Well, certainly not that he was dead.’
‘Was he?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Was Laurence Hadfield dead by eleven twenty-six on that Saturday night? You see, that’s one of the things we’re trying to find out. We don’t know for certain exactly when he died.’
‘I don’t see why you should expect me to know. You’re just playing games.’ He glanced towards the solicitor. ‘Brian, do I have to sit here and answer these stupid and insulting questions?’
‘No,’ said Liversedge. ‘But I’d advise you to be patient a little longer, Tony. I’m sure these ladies will be finished very soon.’
‘We’ll do our best,’ said Annie, smiling. Then she looked back at Randall, who didn’t seem quite so complacent. She noticed he was playing with a ring on one of his fingers. ‘Any other reason he might not have answered his phone?’
‘I suppose he might have been asleep,’ said Randall.
‘But surely he would have taken his mobile up to the bedroom with him? A businessman like Mr Hadfield would hardly want to be too far away from it, would he?’
‘I wouldn’t know about Larry’s sleeping habits. I suppose he might have done. But maybe he took a sleeping pill or...’ Randall stopped. His expression said he would take back his last words if he could, but he couldn’t. Instead, Annie sat there silently and let him blunder on. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know the poor girl you found in the car is said to have died of an overdose of sleeping pills. That was insensitive of me. But this whole thing is ridiculous.’
‘Was Mr Hadfield in the habit of taking sleeping pills?’ Anne asked, as casually as she could. They hadn’t found any during their search of Hadfield’s house.
‘I think he did on occasion. He mentioned he had trouble sleeping, mostly because he was often travelling from one time zone to another, so he took a pill from time to time.’
‘Did you prescribe any sleeping pills for Laurence Hadfield?’
‘Good Lord, no. That would hardly have been appropriate. I probably told him to be careful with them. I don’t trust the things myself. I assume he would have got them from his GP.’
‘Mandrax?’