Read Online The Conspiracy Theorist by Mark Raven - Free Book Online Page B

Already old…
    ‘Becket,’ I said wearily.
    ‘Ah, Becket.   At last!’
    And there it was: that familiar nasal
tone at the other end like he had not trained himself to breathe and talk at
the same time.
    ‘Richie,’ I sat down.   ‘What can I do for you?’
    ‘I understand you have been bothering
one of my witnesses,’ he paused as if to read from his notes.   ‘Mrs Jennifer Forbes.   You met her yesterday.’
    At least it wasn’t Reuben Symonds who
had contacted him, I thought.   But
that would have at least made sense.
    ‘I wasn’t aware she was witness to
anything,’ I said.
    Richie stopped in his tracks.   I went on, ‘So there is an
investigation, is there?’
    ‘Becket, I told you—no, I asked you politely—to stay out of
it.   You're not even working for
anyone, as far as I am aware.’
    ‘As far as you are aware, that is
correct.’   I said.   ‘Might I remind you she contacted me
the day before yesterday.’
    ‘But she did not ask you to come up to the
inquest and ask her questions.’
    ‘Richie, she spoke to me under no
duress whatsoever, I assure you.’
    I thought of the three large G&Ts
I’d bought her and wondered if that was strictly true.   And yet it was interesting that Jenny
Forbes-Marchant had not told Richie that she had rung me after her father’s
inquest.
    ‘The woman is grieving, you dumb fuck,’
Richie was saying.   ‘Even you
should understand that, Becket.’
    Even
me , I thought.   I took a deep breath.   People like Richie were impossible to argue with.   There were no handholds, no common
decency to them.   They were as
slippery as eels with about as much moral sense.   I counted to ten.
    ‘I understand what you are saying, DCI
Richie.   What I am unclear about is why you are saying it.   Did Mrs Forbes-Marchant make a formal
complaint?’
    There was a beat before Richie said, ‘I
rang her.   She told me that you had
been to see her.   She was upset.’
    ‘She was upset because she had seen
me?’ I asked.   ‘Or she was just
upset?’
    ‘It is a difficult time for her.   I understand she has just gone through
a rather painful divorce.’
    ‘Richie, this compassion,’ I asked, ‘is
it a new side to your character?   Or had I missed it before?’
    Richie laughed bitterly.   ‘You never knew me, Becket.’
    I waited for him to finish what was on
his mind.   But he didn’t.   He contented himself with his heavy
breathing routine.
    I said, ‘Look, pleasant as it is to
reminisce, DCI Richie, I am busy right now.   With
other cases.   And I
really do not have the time for this.’
    ‘I’m pleased,’ Richie said.   ‘That you do not have the time for this,
Becket.   That you
have other cases.   Just
don’t talk to her again.’
    And he put the phone down.

 
    As
it happened, there were actually some case-files to review on my desk.   Mainly small tasks
for Anthony Carstairs.   Matrimonials where the other side had employed a private investigator
whose approaches needed checking out.   It was routine stuff.   I
would have enjoyed it on another occasion, but suddenly I found it all very irksome.   But what was the alternative?   To go across to the
pub at nine thirty in the morning?   Sit in the park and read a book?   Wander around the Cathedral with the tourists?   No, it is better for Becket’s soul to wade through these
files, I thought.   Immeasurably so.
    And so I did.

 
    By
mid afternoon, I had emailed my notes to the head clerk.   After a while, I wandered downstairs
with the files piled on an arm.   As
I stood there, the great man breezed into chambers full of some tale of
adjournment and some circuit judge’s cock-up.   It was what Carstairs called ‘entertaining the troops’ but
his small army of interns and admin folk looked like they just wanted to get on
with their work so they could leave while it was still light.   As I was speaking, Carstairs checked
his watch several times.   In
response, I