“We’ll be very quiet. Just some questions we need to ask Mr Guinane.”
Andrea opened the door wide and stepped to one side to allow the two policemen to enter.
Simmons and Coates stood in the hallway, looking awkward, but their eyes finding Oliver’s from time to time.
“As you probably know, Mrs True, DC Coates and I are working on the case of your husband’s murder.”
She nodded. “I noticed you at the funeral.”
“I hope we weren’t obtrusive in any way.”
“No. Unlike the Press people.”
“Yes.” Simmons pondered this for a second or two. “Newspaper people can be a nuisance sometimes. But there was nothing that we, as policemen, could do about it. Free Press, and all that.”
“It’s okay, I wasn’t blaming you.” She glanced at Oliver, who was still waiting in the doorway to the lounge. “Why did you want to see Oliver?”
Andrea seemed nervous to me, probably because of what she and my ex-friend had been up to a couple of minutes ago.
“Ah, I think that must be between Mr Guinane and us for now.” It was the shorter man, Coates, who had spoken. “It’s only a few simple questions, nothing formal. Shouldn’t take long.”
Andrea looked questioningly at Oliver, who had stepped aside from the door.
“I’ve no objection to Andrea being present. Shall we go through?” His hand indicated the lounge.
“Uh, no, Mr Guinane.” Simmons again. “Certainly we can talk wherever you suggest, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for Mrs True to be in on this.”
Quick, anxious looks were exchanged between Andrea and Oliver. Oliver started to protest, but Andrea interrupted.
“That’s all right, Sergeant,” she said. “I’ll check on my daughter and wait with her until you tell me I can come down.”
“Shouldn’t be too long,” Simmons promised this time.
I wasn’t prepared for the next moment. Andrea strode straight through me to climb the stairs and I almost sagged with the weight of the emotions that hit me. She was confused and unexpectedly frightened, all beneath a surging undercurrent of terrible grief. Fortunately, she passed on swiftly and mounted the stairs, her step weary.
Both detectives faced Oliver.
“Shall we go through, Sir?” suggested Coates, who had an undisguised glint in his eye as he regarded Oliver.
Oliver allowed them access, then followed into the room. I trailed in after Oliver.
He indicated, inviting both policemen to sit and they duly found places at either end of the sofa. As for me, I was in no mood to sit, because I was raging. I wanted to catch hold of my ex-friend and partner and throttle him there and then. I wanted to beat him to a pulp and, indeed, I took several swings at him, all of them useless, merely swiping through him as though he was nothing more than a hologram. I ranted. I kicked him where it really should have hurt, but he didn’t even flinch. God, I wanted to kill him!
But I could only wait and listen. The interview went something like this:
DS SIMMONS: “Mr Guinane, the other day you told us that you left the hotel on the night of James True’s murder and returned home.”
OLIVER: “Yes.”
DS SIMMONS: “Yet a neighbour of yours, an early riser who had a pet dog to let out into the apartment gardens, told us he saw you entering the apartments’ foyer around 6 a.m.”
OLIVER: Silence.
DC COATES: “You were empty-handed, so you couldn’t have been out to buy milk or the morning papers.”
OLIVER: Uncomfortable silence.
DS SIMMONS: “Do you wish to change your original statement, Sir?”
OLIVER: “I couldn’t sleep. I was kind of wired—you know Jim and I were working on a big campaign for a prospective client? It’s hard to relax after you’ve been dreaming up winning ideas half the night.”
DC COATES: “So you left the hotel suite quite early, did you? Sunday night, I mean.”
OLIVER: “Well, not that early. It must’ve been somewhere around midnight. I didn’t check my watch, had no reason to.”
DC COATES: “You were overheard having a violent argument with James True—”
OLIVER: “It was hardly violent. There’s bound to be creative differences from time to time. It goes with the territory and it’s never serious.”
DS SIMMONS: “The hotel’s night porter, who was collecting breakfast order cards, said the row sounded extremely serious when he passed by the room.”
OLIVER: “He’s wrong. We might have been a bit loud, but we didn’t come to blows or anything like that.”
DC COATES: “Isn’t it true that there was also a significant business disagreement between you both at this time?”
OLIVER: “We failed to agree on a forthcoming merger with a larger agency—I was pro, Jim was con—but it was hardly cause for murder, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
DS SIMMONS: “We’re not suggesting anything at this time.”
DC COATES: “You and True’s wife were lovers at one time, weren’t you?”
OLIVER: “Good God. Has somebody at the agency been gossiping? Our relationship was years ago, before Jim and Andrea were married. In fact, Andrea was actually my live-in partner before she decided on Jim. There’s been nothing between us since.”
ME: Huh!
DS SIMMONS: “Are you quite certain of that, Mr Guinane?”
OLIVER: “Of course I’m bloody certain!”
DS SIMMONS: “Well, we’ll leave that for now.”
ME: No, ask him more. He’s lying!
DC COATES: “A moment ago you mentioned being wired. Was that appertaining to drugs, Sir?”
OLIVER: “What?”
DC COATES: “Do you take drugs?”
OLIVER: “More idle chat at the agency?”
DS SIMMONS: “We’ve learned that your drug consumption was bad enough to cause problems more than once over the years, especially as far as Mr True was concerned.”
OLIVER: “That was a long time ago. I did marijuana, some coke, nothing really heavy. But now I’m clean. When I said wired, I meant uh, wound up. Wired is just a word we use in the game. You know—in advertising.”
DC COATES: “You ever heard of a Ruby Red, Mr Guinane?”
OLIVERcharacter.: “What are you talking about?”
DC COATES: “Ruby Red. Some of my colleagues call it a Rudolph. You know, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.”
OLIVER: “What’s your point?”
DC COATES: “Well you see, one of the dead giveaways when someone’s doing a lot of coke is that the tip of the nose can get slightly sore. Not bright, not loud. You see a few celebs with it on television when their make-up’s worn off. Nothing too conspicuous, you understand, just a little redness on the tip. Like on the tip of your nose right now.”
OLIVER: “That’s nonsense! I gave all that up years ago.”
ME: Why are you lying, Ollie? What else are you hiding besides having an affair with my wife?
DC COATES: “Really?”
OLIVER: “You may not have noticed, but I lost a good friend this week. I’ve done some weeping, believe it or not.”
DS SIMMONS: “Why were you arguing with James True last Sunday night?”
OLIVER: “Oh, back to that again, is it? It was trivial, a little difference of opinion between friends. Jim thought I was on cocaine again.”
DC COATES: “Ah, so you are still on drugs.”
OLIVER: “I didn’t say that. I’ve admitted nothing. But look, do you seriously believe I killed my best friend and business colleague? I thought he was supposed to be the victim of a serial killer?”
DS SIMMONS: “It could easily have been set up to appear that way. A copycat murder. If someone wanted another person out of the way without becoming an obvious suspect, why not hide the motive among a series of same-such murders, let the serial killer take the blame. Unfortunately for the guilty party, Mr True’s death was not quite the same as in the previous killings. Not quite the same modus operandi, you see.”