Part 29 (1/2)

”That would have been the White Stag, on Church Street?” said Gemma.

Peterson's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting that. ”So happens, yeah. What of it?”

”It was, in fact, your old friend who hit you. Andy Monahan.”

”Yeah. That's right. But I wouldn't exactly call him a friend. I should've pressed charges. a.s.sault, that's what it was.”

”You and Andy go way back, as I understand it.”

Peterson stepped back, definitely wary now. ”I knew him a little when we were kids. Snotty-nosed little b.a.s.t.a.r.d, didn't even own a decent pair of shoes, and now he doesn't want to be seen talking to me.” Gemma gave a very pointed look round the flat and Peterson flushed. ”He had no right to b.l.o.o.d.y hit me.”

”Andy didn't remember you too fondly, either, Joe,” put in Melody. ”And he doesn't even know what you really did to his neighbor, Mrs. Drake.”

His face closed. ”I don't know what you're talking about.”

”Oh, but I'm sure you do,” said Gemma. ”You accused her of a.s.sault, and your father legally persecuted her. He hired a lawyer named Vincent Arnott to file a civil suit against her when the police refused to charge her. Did you happen to see Mr. Arnott in the White Stag on Friday night?”

”I've no idea what you're talking about,” Peterson said again, his accent slipping into public school vowels.

Melody held out her phone, showing him Arnott's photo. ”Maybe this will refresh your memory.”

He looked, shook his head. ”Nah. Don't remember him. That was years ago, anyway.”

”And you hadn't seen him in the pub before?”

”Not my regular, the White Stag. Bit too smarmy yuppie. I only went in 'cause I saw Andy's picture on the flyer in the window. Thought it would be a laugh.”

Kincaid stepped up behind Gemma, and Melody was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of the look he gave Joe Peterson. ”You thought Andy would want to have a laugh over your breaking into his neighbor's house and scaring her half to death?”

”That's not what happened.” Peterson s.h.i.+fted on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet as he glanced at Kincaid, who suddenly seemed to fill the doorway.

”We know what you said happened. Andy says it's not true.”

”Little b.u.t.ter-wouldn't-melt Catholic boy? He's the one had been spying on her for months.” Peterson glared at them. ”What's this all about, anyway? You've no right to hara.s.s me like this. I haven't done anything.”

”Did you see anyone else you recognized in the pub Friday night?” asked Gemma.

”No. I've told you. Look, I've had enough of-”

”Vincent Arnott-the lawyer your father hired-was in the White Stag on Friday night. We found him dead on Sat.u.r.day morning.” Gemma waited for this to sink in. Peterson shot another glance at Kincaid. The bruise on his cheekbone stood out starkly now.

”So why should I care?” he said finally. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed.

”Your old mate Shaun Francis was found dead on Monday morning,” said Kincaid. ”Bit of a coincidence, you see.”

”Shaun? Dead?” Peterson licked his lips. ”You're having me on, right?”

”No. I'm sorry.” Gemma sounded genuinely sympathetic.

”But-I don't understand. I hadn't seen Shaun in years. What has any of this got to do with me?”

”We think there was someone else in the pub that night. Someone who had very good reason to hate Arnott, and your old friend Shaun, and you. Nadine Drake.”

Peterson stared at her, then gave a bark of laughter. ”Now I know you're having me on. She must be some kind of a hag by now. And besides, I didn't hang around after-” His hand strayed towards his face.

”What did you do?” asked Kincaid.

”Came home. I was b.l.o.o.d.y p.i.s.sed off. Had a row with my girlfriend.” He gestured at the boxes. ”b.i.t.c.h.”

Melody was beginning to think they should leave Joe Peterson to his fate, but Gemma handed him a card. ”Mr. Peterson, we should warn you that you could be a target. Please be aware of this if Nadine Drake should approach you. And call the police.”

”I think I could handle her.” Peterson's expression made Melody wonder just what he had done to his girlfriend when they'd argued on Friday night.

”I wouldn't be too sure,” said Gemma, and Melody knew she was seeing Arnott and Francis, naked and strangled. ”You might not recognize her, but I'd stay away from strange women in bars. Oh, and we'll need to have a word with your ex-girlfriend. Routine. If you could give us contact information?”

With bad grace, he scribbled a name and a mobile number on a shred of torn-off pizza box. ”She's gone to stay with her sister in Streatham. Don't know the address.”

”Thank you, Mr. Peterson. You've been most helpful.” Gemma gave him her most officious smile, and they left him standing in his sitting room, Gemma's card clutched in his fingers.

”Nasty piece of work,” Kincaid said when they reached the car. ”I think I can see why Andy punched him.”

Gemma glanced back at the flat. ”Is he really in danger, do you think? I could have patrol keep an eye on him.”

Kincaid frowned as he keyed open the car. ”I'd concentrate on Drake. The other two were attacked after they'd been to their locals. And they were fairly high-profile figures, lawyers who could be traced easily enough. How would she find Joe Peterson unless she had access to social security rolls?”

Melody could only think of Andy, whose name and gig dates were on flyers at the 12 Bar, and probably other local clubs as well.

”I think I won't ride back with you,” she said, her fingers on the handle of the Astra's back door. Gemma and Kincaid turned to stare at her. ”I'll get the train from Gipsy Hill into Victoria. Then it's easy enough to get the tube to Putney. That way, the two of you can go straight home, and I can run Gemma by to pick up her car on the way into the station in the morning.”

She didn't want to say that she couldn't bear another hour in the back of the car in evening traffic. Or that she had no intention of going straight to Putney. From Victoria, it was just as easy to get the tube to Tottenham Court Road, and the flat in Hanway Place. She was not going home until she'd made certain Andy was all right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

In 1963 Regent Sounds Studio was set up at 4 Denmark Street. With the Rolling Stones recording their first alb.u.m here, the studio took off as the place to be seen to be making music.

- ”Do you think Melody is all right?” Kincaid asked Gemma, taking his eyes from the road to glance at her face.

”I don't know. I can't blame her for being worried. You could ring Tam again when we get home, ask him if Andy was playing anywhere tonight and if he could check on him.”

He was crossing the Thames at the Albert Bridge, which would always now make him think of the walk he and Gemma had taken along the Chelsea Embankment after they signed the marriage register in the Chelsea Town Hall.

This seemed as good a time as any, and perhaps the setting would serve as a good omen for what he had to say. ”Before we get home, there's something I need to tell you, love.”

”What?” Gemma's face was a white blur as she turned towards him. ”What's happened? The children-my mum-”