He told himself there were a million reasons why Michelle might have fibbed to her friends. Friends told each other white lies like that all the time. If they wanted to get out of an engagement, if they felt they’d been remiss about something. Or if they didn’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.
But he was unable to shake off the little niggle at the back of his mind. And Vogel was a man who couldn’t proceed with an investigation, or indeed anything much else in life, until he had dealt with anything that niggled at him. What were the odds against a group of friends finding themselves on the receiving end of a series of random incidents of this nature? No, either someone was targeting them or one of the group was the perpetrator, which meant that anyone whose behaviour was not entirely straightforward had to be suspect. And that included PC Michelle Monahan.
Vogel checked his watch. Michelle was on point duty and would not be returning to the station until late afternoon. He decided to fill in the time by interviewing Ari Kabul. As he was uncertain where to find him, Vogel checked the list of numbers for the group which Michelle had supplied and dialled Ari’s mobile.
He was unsurprised to be diverted to voicemail and left a message asking Ari to call him back as soon as possible concerning the incident involving Marlena. He was, however, somewhat surprised by how promptly Ari returned his call and the way in which he so readily agreed to come into Charing Cross — ‘for a chat’, as Vogel put it.
‘Anything I can do to help clear up what happened to poor Marlena,’ said Ari. ‘Not that I think I have any information for you, but I’ll help in any way I can.’
Vogel was struck by the highly educated Englishness of Kabul’s voice. He promptly gave himself a telling-off for indulging in stereotyping verging on a kind of racism. What had he expected, for God’s sake? Peter Sellers doing ‘Goodness Gracious Me’?
Ari duly arrived within the hour and was escorted to an interview room. Vogel noted that the young man was not only handsome and well turned out, he was also extremely self-assured and displayed no obvious signs of drug or drink abuse, nor of suffering from a hangover. Just because he had been arrested under the influence of alcohol and in possession of cocaine, did not, of course, necessarily mean that Ari Kabul had a drink problem and was a regular drug user. The sequence of events Vogel had witnessed at Harpo’s the previous evening could merely have been a one-off occurrence from which Kabul had, apparently, swiftly recovered. However that wasn’t how it had seemed. And, Vogel reminded himself, the effects of cocaine could be deceptive.
He stared hard at Ari, looking for dilated pupils, or even an unnatural brightness in the eyes. There was nothing, and if Ari noticed Vogel’s close scrutiny he passed no comment.
He also gave no indication of recognizing Vogel. But then, in spite of his impressively swift recovery, the previous evening’s excesses must surely have dulled Kabul’s senses to some extent.
He answered most of Vogel’s questions easily and satisfactorily enough. Was he speaking any more quickly than might be normal? Did he seem overexcited or overactive? Vogel didn’t think so. Ari Kabul appeared to be quite calm and in control.
There was one question he could not answer satisfactorily. He had no verifiable alibi for the time of Marlena’s incident.
‘I’m afraid I was on my own, at home in bed, Mr Vogel,’ said Kabul. ‘I had some sort of tummy bug. I didn’t go into work that day. My father was in his office as usual and my mother was out most of the day. In any case, my flat in the basement is completely separate from their part of the house, and has its own entrance, so they rarely know for certain whether I’m in or not.’
‘Did you contact your doctor?’ asked Vogel.
Kabul shook his head. ‘’Fraid not, Detective Sergeant. I just put it down to some dodgy grub at Johnny’s the night before.’
Other than, perhaps, the absence of an alibi, there was nothing in Kabul’s response to raise any suspicions in Vogel.
Ari seemed genuinely eager to help and concerned about the misfortunes, albeit that at least two cases were mere pranks, which had now befallen seven of the ten Sunday Club friends.
‘If I think of anything that might throw any light on any of this, anything at all, I’ll call you right away, Mr Vogel,’ said Ari, when the policeman indicated that he had no further questions.
Vogel waited until the young man had reached the door before calling after him.
‘You got home all right last night, then,’ he commented.
Ari suddenly didn’t look quite so self-assured. Which had been Vogel’s intention.
‘Were you at Harpo’s?’ he asked, perhaps a little apprehensively.
Obviously he had no memory of Vogel being there, but that was hardly surprising, thought the detective.
‘Playing backgammon,’ he said.
Ari grinned disarmingly.
‘We didn’t play each other, did we?’ he enquired. ‘Surely I couldn’t have forgotten that.’
Vogel shook his head.
‘Did you win?’ asked Ari.
Vogel reckoned the other man was a good recoverer in more ways than one.
‘I did, as a matter of fact,’ he said. ‘Did you?’
Ari looked puzzled. Presumably even he could remember that he’d been knocked out in the first round.
‘The young woman, the one you left the club with,’ said Vogel, by way of explanation.
‘Ah, the lovely Kylie,’ said Ari, grinning again. ‘Oh yes. I won.’
Vogel remained sitting at the interview-room table for a few minutes after Ari left, pondering their dialogue. Ari was disconcertingly likeable, and obviously had a way with women, probably whether or not he was coked up. Vogel wondered fleetingly if the young man had been too helpful. But he reckoned he could drive himself crazy with that sort of thinking. And in any case Michelle Monahan was due back from point duty any minute.
Vogel couldn’t help feeling a reluctance to confront his colleague. He certainly could not bring himself to do so formally, not at this stage anyway. So he hovered at the coffee machine conveniently situated in the corridor just outside the Traffic department’s offices in order to contrive an apparently accidental encounter. In fact, when he saw Michelle approaching he moved so fast he almost tripped over his own feet, lurched forward and bumped into her, spilling much of the black coffee he had already acquired, but fortunately over himself rather than her. She looked surprised and a tad alarmed.
‘Cup of coffee?’ he enquired, dabbing ineffectively at the stained front of his faded beige corduroy jacket, but otherwise making a fairly good recovery.
Michelle nodded her assent.
‘White, no sugar,’ she instructed.
Vogel had been confident she would take the opportunity to spend a few minutes with him. He knew she liked him — well, possibly more than that, although he had no intention of taking advantage. He also suspected she would want to know what progress he was making on the matter she had brought to his attention, although she was probably not yet sure whether he was actively investigating it.
He told her that he had already interviewed Greg, Karen, Ari and Marlena, and that he was planning to talk to the remaining members of the group over the next day or two.
‘Does that include me?’ Michelle asked levelly.
‘Oh, come on,’ said Vogel.
‘No. There’s something else you want to ask me, isn’t there?’
Michelle was looking him straight in the eye, her manner absolutely direct. She might once have made a pass at him but that didn’t make her any kind of pushover professionally, he reminded himself. He also, either because of or in spite of the pass, remained disconcertingly fond of the young policewoman.