‘Of course. At that time, Detective Morrison, you had not identified him. You made an accusation that I was somehow attempting to gain information about him when I was there on another case at the request of DI Armani. My presence there was totally and utterly coincidental. I made no effort to see the victim but was encouraged by two of your officers to join them for a cup of coffee. I don’t know why you don’t accept my explanation. Have you got some personal grievance against me?’
‘I’m investigating a brutal murder,’ Morrison snapped. ‘And you still have a lot of explaining to do. Do you expect us to believe that your presence at the Steinburg gallery was another coincidence, because you just happened to pick up an invitation?’ Morrison said, trying to control his temper.
‘Yes, it was. Whether or not you believe me is up to you.’
Broadbent tapped the table with his pen. ‘Did the name Detmar Steinburg mean anything to you?’
‘No, I had no idea who he was. Though I must admit I was hoping I might meet him, after we did a bit of research and found out he was a famous collector and dealer.’ Jack leaned back, chuckling. ‘I nearly got stopped at the door, even though I was all togged up, but there was quite a crowd, and I managed to slip through.’
Broadbent leaned forward, tapping the table again with his pen. ‘You may be amused, Jack, but believe me, I am not. Finding yourself in close proximity to the victim and then to the killer smacks of more than mere coincidence.’
‘But along with DCI Morrison, when I was in the ICU, I didn’t know the victim was Detmar Steinburg. Likewise when I picked up the invitation. I had no idea there was a connection.’
Broadbent leaned back, looking annoyed and frustrated. Morrison took over. ‘OK, tell us what occurred at the gallery while you were innocently looking at the paintings?’
Jack thought for a moment. ‘I went into the first gallery and then moved up to the second floor. There was another display, but the exhibition of new work was taking place on the third floor, and there was a chain and padlock on the doors. This time, I didn’t walk down the stairs but used the lift. I intended to go back down to the ground floor, but by mistake I pressed the button to go up.’ He glanced from Broadbent to Morrison. Both were stony-faced. ‘So, I was now on the fourth floor. I heard someone screaming, then I saw a woman, I now know her name is Ester... something, she was being assaulted by this man, he was punching her and shouting. I ran into the office. He had hit her in the face and she was bleeding. He then turned and tried to punch me. I recognised him as the man from the framer’s shop. He was frothing at the mouth with rage, shouting that he was owed money. I punched him hard, and he ran down the stairs. I helped Ester into the bathroom and cleaned her up with some paper towels. She was very shaken, and I think I told her she should call the police.’
‘Did you see her make the call?’
‘No. She went back into her office.’
Broadbent was checking through Norman O’Reilly’s statement. It tallied with what Jack had just described. ‘When did you meet Kurt Neilson?’
‘I wouldn’t describe it as meeting him. I left the bathroom after looking after Ester... ah, I think her surname is Langton. I was going to use the lift to go down as I heard a loudspeaker announcement encouraging the guests to go to the third floor as the exhibition was about to open. I had no idea it was Kurt Neilson, but when I came out of the bathroom, I saw a big man wearing this long robe. He was screeching at Ester, something about it being his exhibition, and then he ran to the stairs and she came out in a terrible state. She asked me to get the security guards, said he was crazy and she was afraid of what he was going to do. She didn’t need to tell me twice. He seemed completely crazed. She went down in the lift to the first floor.’
‘Did she call the police then?’
‘She must have, because they arrived not long after, and by that time I had the guards with me in gallery three. We’d tried to stop people coming up. It was already obvious Neilson was out of control.’
Morrison began to lay out the photographs taken from the mobile phone video footage.
Jack leaned forward, looking from one to the other, then picking one up and staring at it, said, ‘My God, that is me. I’d manoeuvred to stand behind him, and the two guards were on either side of me, and then when he unveiled this huge canvas, all hell broke loose. I saw his right hand go into the pocket of his robe, and he took out a Glock pistol. I was convinced he was going to either fire into the crowd or shoot himself and...’ Jack turned the photograph around, showing himself flying through the air towards Kurt Neilson. ‘I’d like to know how long you have had this evidence... you brought me in and left me for how many hours in a cell when you had all this?’ Jack started to stand.
‘Sit down!’ Morrison barked.
‘When did you identify your victim as Detmar Steinburg?’ Jack asked him.
‘I’m asking the questions!’ Morrison snapped.
‘That night? You had me arrested and for what? Not staying at the scene? I want a damned good explanation for what you have subjected me to, not to mention my family.’
Morrison looked to Broadbent, who was tapping the last page in his file.
‘Why did you leave the gallery?’
‘As far as I can recall,’ Jack said slowly, ‘I believe DI Collingwood and a team of officers were at the gallery. He had the place surrounded and, after the experience of dealing with that crazed man, I just wanted to get out of there and be with my family’.
Morrison asked the next question staring hard at Jack, as if daring him to lie. ‘Did you make the anonymous call to Fulham police station control room that night, Detective Warr?’
‘No, I did not. Now I think it’s about time I called a lawyer as I have been subjected to what I would describe as harassment from a senior officer who clearly bears some personal grudge against me.’ Jack wondered for a beat if he had overstepped the mark. His biggest fear was that they had found the stash of money hidden in the child’s toy, but as it had not been mentioned, he assumed it was still safely hidden.
Broadbent stood up. ‘I would ask you to be patient, DS Warr, while I re-assess the whole situation.’ He turned to Collingwood, who had been standing behind them. ‘Is there anything you would like to add?’
‘I would just like to say, on DS Warr’s behalf, although at the time I was unaware of not only who he was or that he was in fact a police officer, his calmness and courage in a chaotic and potentially highly dangerous situation were admirable. By the time we put the cuffs on Neilson, the situation was well in hand.’
Broadbent nodded as if satisfied, then suddenly said, ‘But surely you must have recognised him because you had met him before in the ICU viewing room?’
Collingwood hesitated, licking his lips nervously, and for a moment Jack thought he was going to fold. ‘The thing is... as I said earlier, it was a chaotic scene, a lot of panicked people milling about, and he was dressed in an evening suit, so I just assumed he was one of the guests. I simply didn’t make the connection at the time with the officer I’d met in the ICU.’
Jack held his breath, but Broadbent seemed satisfied with Collingwood’s answer, even though Morrison was shaking his head in disbelief.
Broadbent stood. ‘Right. Better organise a patrol car to take DS Warr home.’
Collingwood held the door open and followed Jack out. As the door closed behind them, Broadbent turned to Morrison. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences any more than you do. But I’m afraid we just don’t have any hard evidence that Warr did anything wrong. And I don’t want him suing the department for harassment. The plain fact is that without his intervention at the gallery, there could have been numerous casualties. He risked his life and then just wanted to return home to his wife and children.’