Part 3 (1/2)
Miss Caesar?”
”As soon as I got to Dunbar. The police were everywhere, so I knew it was a real mess. I used Peter's phone before I went into Justin's room.”
”Where was she?”
”At her room in Offers ... Uffington College.”
”And she arrived straight away?” Gareth Alan Pitchford asked.
”You know she did. You were the one who let us in to Justin's rooms, remember? Uffers is only just down the road from Dunbar, it's less than four minutes' walk away. I expect she ran.”
”Okay.” The detective closed his notebook. ”Thank you very much. We'll need to talk to you again, of course. I'll have a car run you home.”
”I'll stay, thanks. I want to be with the others when you've finished interviewing them.”
”Of course.”
It was Antony Caesar Pitt who followed Carter into the interview room. By that time it was close to three o'clock in the morning. A Caesar family representative came in with him; Neill h.e.l.ler Caesar. Younger than Francis, dressed in a very expensive gray business suit. There was no way of telling what an inconsiderate hour it was from his deportment; he was shaved, wide awake, and friendly with the police. I envied that ability to insinuate himself into the situation as if his presence was an essential component of the investigation. Another goal to aim for. People like us have to be as smooth as a beach stone.
The world calls us representatives, but negotiators would be more accurate. We're the deal makers, the oil in the cogs of the Roman Congress. Families, that is the big ones like mine who originated from the Sport of Emperors, can hardly venture into physical conflict when we have a dispute amongst ourselves. Violence is going the same way as Shorts, bred out of our existence. Instead, you have us.
Families have their own internal codes of behavior and conduct, while the Roman Congress provides a framework for overall government. So when two families collide over anything-a new invention, access to fresh resources-people like Francis and Neill h.e.l.ler Caesar sit down together and thrash out an agreement about distribution and equal rights. Two hundred years ago, when the Americas were opened up, the major disputes were over what territories each family should have to settle, which is when our profession matured. These days, the big quarrels mostly concerns economic matters-inevitable given the way the whole world is hurtling headfirst into scientific industrialization.
But representation of family interests also goes right down to a personal individual level. To put it in First Era crudity, we were there that night to make d.a.m.n sure the police caught whoever killed one of us. While Neill h.e.l.ler Caesar was there to ensure his family members weren't pressured into confessing. Unless of course they were guilty. For all our differences, no family would tolerate or cover up for a murderer.
Neill h.e.l.ler Caesar shook hands with both of us, giving me an equal amount of respect. As flattery went, I have to admit he scored a partial success.
”Hope you don't mind my sitting in,” he said pleasantly. ”There are two of our flock involved so far. Best to make sure they conduct themselves correctly now. Could save a lot of time later on. I'm sure everyone wants this appalling incident cleared up as soon as possible. My condolences, by the way.”
”Thank you,” Francis said. ”I'm most gratified that you're here. The more people working on this investigation, the faster it will be solved. Hope you can manage the crowding. I don't believe this room was built with such a large audience in mind.”
”Not a problem.” Neill h.e.l.ler Caesar sat down next to Antony, giving the young man a rea.s.suring smile. Antony needed the gesture. He had obviously had quite a night; his tie was unknotted, hanging around his collar, his jacket was crumpled, and there were several stains on the fabric. Apart from that he came over as perfectly average, a short man with broad shoulders, who kept himself fit and healthy.
”You had dinner with Mr. Raleigh and your other friends this evening?” Gareth Alan Pitchford asked.
”That's right.” Antony Caesar Pitt's voice was strained, attempting defiant contempt. He couldn't quite pull it off, lacking the internal confidence to make it real. He searched round his jacket pockets and pulled out a silver cigar case. Selecting one of the slim cigars and lighting it was another attempt at conveying calm nerves. He took a deep drag.
”I understand the dinner finished around ten o'clock. Where did you go after that?”
'To some friends.”
”And they are ... ?”
”I'd rather not say, actually.”
The detective smiled thinly. ”I'd rather you did.”
Neill h.e.l.ler Caesar put a friendly hand on Antony's leg. ”Go ahead.” It was an order more forceful than any the detective could ever make.
Antony exhaled a thick streamer of smoke. ”It's a club I go to occasionally. The Westhay.”
”On Norfolk Street?”
”Yes.”
”Why were you there?”
”It's a club. Why does anyone go to a club?”
”For a dance and a pleasant evening, usually. But this is different. People go to the Westhay, Mr. Caesar,
because there's an unlicensed card game there most evenings. I understand you're a gambling man.”
”I enjoy a flutter. Who doesn't? It's not as if having a game with friends is a major crime.”
”This is not the vice division; I don't care about your personal shortcomings, I'm investigating the
murder of your friend. How long were you there?” Antony chewed the cigar end. ”I finished just after one. They wiped me out, and believe me you don't ask for credit at the Westhay. It's strictly cash only. I walked back to my college and your constables were waiting for me. But look, even if I give you the names of the guys I was playing with it won't do you any good. I only know first names, and they're not going to admit even being there.” ”That's not your concern right now, Mr. Pitt. I gather you and Mr. Raleigh played cards on a regular basis.”
”For Mary's sake! I wouldn't kill Justin over a couple of hundred pounds.”
”The detective spread his hands wide. ”Did I say you would?”
”You implied it.”
”I'm sorry if that's the impression you received. Do you know of anyone who had any kind of dispute
with Mr. Raleigh?”
”No. n.o.body. Justin was genuinely a great guy.”
The detective leaned back in his chair. ”So everyone tells us. Thank you, Mr. Pitt. We will probably