Loose Head by Jeff Keithly Page B

my mind to the delicate task at hand.
    Normally I’m not at all reluctant to ask questions of a most painfully intimate nature – how did you find out your wife was shagging your neighbor? When did you discover you were a rapist? Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to take things that didn’t belong to you? – that sort of thing. All part of the job.
    But in this case, the sharp blade of my investigatory instincts, honed to whittle away falsehood layer by layer, had most decidedly hit a knot. It was one thing to be privy to a thousand shameful secrets as a member of a rugby team. It was quite another to be faced with the prospect of winnowing through those indiscretions in the noonday glare of a criminal investigation. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. But it seemed I had no choice.
    When we were shown into his study, Bernie had the look of a man who had just finished a sand castle, and glanced seaward to behold a tidal wave rushing up the beach. Haggard and gulping whisky with a shaking hand, his expression brightened to one of pathetic gratitude when he saw me.
    “Bernie,” I said. “All right? No damage?”
    “No. But that day is coming, if I don’t pay Paul soon. Oh, Dex, what have I done?”
    I was glad to be able to give my old friend some good news. I explained that Paul had forgiven his debt, and Dean had been warned off. “I don’t think you’ll see him again,” I said. “If you do, just ring Brian or me – any time, day or night. We’ll sort it out.”
    “Thank God. And thank you, Dex – I owe you one.”
    My discomfort, if it was possible, increased; I fairly squirmed. “No you don’t. But Bernie, I have to ask. No, I’ll just tell you what we know. It was John, wasn’t it? John was blackmailing you. That’s why you needed the money.”
    He looked up at us, thinning hair disheveled, mouth slack with dismay. “Yes. How did you know?”
    “It wasn’t exactly rocket science, once we put the bits and pieces together. Did you pay him?”
    “Who, Weathersby? Yes, a hundred thousand, in hundred-pound notes, cash. He made me sit there while he counted them. Bloody humiliating.” Then he heaved a relieved sigh. “At least Jane won’t have to find out about this now. Will she?” And he looked up at me with pathetic hope.
    I hated to burst his bubble. But events were just moving too bloody fast. “Bernie, I don’t even know what you’ve done – why John was blackmailing you. If it’s not essential to the case we may be able to keep it under wraps. But you need to tell us everything, Bernie, so we can make that judgment.”
    “No. I... I can’t. If you find out on your own, well, I can’t help that. But Jane’s and my marriage – it couldn’t take the strain. Believe me, Dex, it just couldn’t take the strain. Dex, please – I’m begging you. We’ve known each other for a long time. Please let sleeping dogs lie.”
     
    I liked Bernie – I always had. And I hated to see him in such a state. But I had to be honest. “I can’t promise that, Bernie.” I carefully kept the anguish from my voice. “I wish I could, but this is a murder investigation now. A very high-profile murder investigation. John was in the House of Lords, for God’s sake! I’ll do whatever I can, of course, but under the circumstances, that may be very little.”
    “A murder investigation.” He looked back and forth between Brian and me, and, fresh dismay blooming in his face, seemed to dissolve into his armchair. “And now I’m a suspect, of course.”
    “It’s no longer my investigation, Bernie – I’ve been taken off the case. I don’t know where it will lead. But my best advice to you is to be as cooperative as possible. If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve no worries, mate. Look, Brian’s my partner. I trust him with my life, and you can trust him as well. He’ll give you a fair shake.”
    Bernie shook his head stubbornly. “It was nothing criminal – that’s all I’m going to tell