Chapter 27
‘Helen speaking.’
‘Hi, Helen. I have a Detective Inspector Garratt in reception for you.’
Helen frowned. ‘You do?’
‘Yes. He’s asking to see you urgently.’
‘Right. You’d better send him up.’
Helen put the receiver down, and, straightening the papers on her desk, wondered why on earth a policeman wanted to speak to her.
Three minutes later, there was a peremptory knock on her office door.
‘Come in.’ Helen watched the door open. An extremely tall, thin man with a shock of greying hair entered her office.
‘Helen McCarthy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Detective Inspector Garratt, Scotland Yard.’ The man held out his hand across her desk.
Helen offered hers and felt the strength of the man as he shook it.
‘Sorry to disturb you, but I’m conducting an investigation and I think you might be able to help me with my enquiries.’
Helen was confused and uneasy. ‘I don’t know how but . . . please take a seat.’
Detective Garratt sat down on the chair, which was hardly adequate for his long legs.
‘Miss McCarthy, I believe you know a man by the name of Tony Bryant.’
‘Yes, yes, I do.’
‘Good, good.’ Garratt’s eyes slowly moved about the room, taking in the surroundings, before they fixed on Helen’s gaze. ‘Mr Bryant was found dead in the bath at his flat a week ago. He’d been stabbed several times. It was a vicious attack.’
Helen stared at the detective, too shocked to react.
Garratt studied her for a while before he spoke again.
‘I am sorry to be the bearer of such bad tidings. Was Mr Bryant a good friend of yours?’
Helen felt tears pricking the back of her eyes. She nodded.
The detective took a notepad from his pocket and began to flick through its contents. ‘Were you at his flat last Thursday?’
Helen nodded again.
‘Good. We found the note you’d written. May I ask how you gained entry? Did you have a key?’
Helen shook her head. ‘No . . . no . . . the door was open. Excuse me, I—’ Her breath was coming in short sharp bursts and she rested her head in her hands in order to control the dizziness.
‘I understand, Miss McCarthy. Take your time.’ Garratt didn’t adjust his posture. He was still leaning in towards Helen, expecting an answer.
‘The door was open.’
‘Open, you say? Was there any sign of forced entry?’
‘I . . . no,’ Helen sobbed.
‘Sorry to give you such a shock. I presume you and Mr Bryant were close?’
‘Yes. I mean, no . . . we . . . we were very good friends. He’d been my tutor at college and . . . and . . .’ Helen reached down and rifled through her handbag for a handkerchief. She blew her nose hard. ‘I’m sorry. I . . . I just can’t believe what you’re telling me. Are you sure it’s Tony?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. His father has given a positive identification.’
Detective Inspector Garratt watched and waited as Helen wiped her eyes, blew her nose again and swept a hand through her hair in an attempt to regain her equilibrium.
‘When you went to Mr Bryant’s flat last Thursday, did you enter the bathroom?’
‘No. I called out to him a few times. If he had been in the bath, I thought he would have heard me.’
‘Of course, Miss McCarthy. Do you know of anybody who had a grudge against Mr Bryant? Any secrets he may have confided to you about any trouble he was in?’
Helen was resolute. ‘No, absolutely not. Tony was always so . . . happy. As I said, he was very good to me. He helped me a lot.’
DI Garratt cleared his throat. ‘You understand that I have to ask the nature of your relationship with Mr Bryant?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I mean, put bluntly, is whether you and Mr Bryant were lovers?’
Helen did not hesitate in her answer. ‘We were for a while, in the summer, but that had finished.’
Garratt nodded slowly. ‘I see. May I ask why the affair ended?’
‘Because Tony’s girlfriend came back. It was what we’d agreed – that we’d stop when she returned.’
‘And do you have any idea who this girlfriend was?’
‘No. I never met her. Obviously,’ she added.
‘But you think they were seeing each other again recently?’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure of it.’
‘I’m surprised, then, that we haven’t heard from her. Mind you, we’ve only just released the story to the media. Perhaps we’ll hear something soon.’
‘If it’s any help, Tony did mention something about her going away for a few days. Maybe she’s not back yet.’
‘Maybe.’ DI Garratt’s piercing gaze rested on Helen once more. ‘So, there was no animosity between you and Mr Bryant at the end of the affair?’
‘No. I knew how things were from the beginning. I accepted the situation. I had no choice.’
Garratt ran his tongue around his mouth in contemplation. ‘Miss McCarthy, were you in love with Mr Bryant?’
Helen looked down at her hands resting on the table. ‘Yes. I suppose I was. He was so very kind to me when I needed a friend.’ She looked up directly at Garratt. ‘He was the first person who had made me feel special.’
‘Hmm. So, on the Thursday night of your visit to his flat, he was meant to be meeting you somewhere?’
‘Yes. We’d arranged a dinner – a celebration at Kettner’s. Tony didn’t arrive so I went to look for him. I still can’t believe it. Who on earth would want to murder him?’
‘That’s what I intend to find out.’ Garratt slapped his thighs. ‘Well, thank you for answering my questions. I’ll leave you my telephone number, and if you think of anything that might be relevant, please contact me immediately.’
Helen swallowed hard. ‘Of course.’
Garratt stood up, his head almost touching the low ceiling. Helen tried to stand but her legs had turned to jelly.
‘Don’t get up. Goodbye, Miss McCarthy.’
‘Goodbye, Detective Inspector Garratt.’
He nodded and left her office. Helen sat staring into space, her whole body numb.
‘Tony, Tony, why?’ she questioned to the empty air.
Eventually, Helen reached for her handbag and staggered to her feet. She walked slowly across the carpet to her office door, then made her way down the stairs to reception.
‘I . . . I’m going out for the afternoon,’ Helen told the receptionist. ‘I won’t be back.’
‘Okay, Helen. Are you all right? You look ever such a funny colour.’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks, Jilly.’
Helen opened the door and walked along the street.
She turned into the nearest bar and ordered a double whiskey.
Once she had downed that and her head had cleared a little, Helen left the bar and walked swiftly to the nearest off-licence.
Five minutes later, hugging a full bottle of scotch to her breast, she hailed a taxi and headed for home.