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Reckless Endangerment(60)

By:Graham Ison


‘I understand that you don’t own a car, Max,’ said Dave.

‘My word, you have been doing your homework. I used to own a vintage MG, but it got stolen about six months ago. The police told me that it was probably well on its way to Eastern Europe before I’d even noticed it gone. I haven’t bothered to get another; it doesn’t seem worth it. I hire a car if I need one, but most of the time I take taxis. As a matter of fact, it’s worked out cheaper in the long run.’

‘Thank you, Max,’ said Kate. ‘I don’t think we need to trouble you further.’

‘I suppose you wouldn’t like to sit for me, Inspector, would you?’ asked Maxine, appraising Kate’s figure with an artist’s eye.

‘No thanks,’ said Kate. ‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea.’

‘No, I didn’t think you would, Inspector. I should think you’re all hetero.’ Nevertheless, there was an element of regret in Maxine’s reply. ‘I’ll show you out.’

‘I reckon you had a lucky escape there, guv,’ said Dave, as they drove away from Maxine Riley’s apartment.

‘So do I, Dave,’ said Kate. ‘But I wonder what Max’s boyfriend was like,’ she said, almost to herself.

Kate and Dave got back to the office at about half past six.

‘How did you get on?’ I asked.

‘Frank Digby’s a bit sussy, guv,’ said Kate, ‘but Dave got his DNA. Voluntarily. Well, with a little gentle persuasion.’

‘And Max Riley turned out to be Maxine Riley, a bisexual artist,’ said Dave. ‘Miss Ebdon had to do a bit of verbal tap-dancing when she was propositioned.’

‘Like hell I did,’ said Kate. ‘She didn’t stand a chance – but I notice she didn’t ask you to pose, Dave.’

‘No, a pity that,’ said Dave, a dreamy look in his eye.

‘You say that this Max Riley is bisexual, Kate. D’you think that—’

‘No,’ said Kate firmly. ‘She has an alibi for the night of Sharon’s murder – it’ll have to be checked out, of course, but she seemed genuinely shocked when I told her that Sharon had been murdered.’

I took the opportunity to brief Kate and Dave about the visit of DI Ken Sullivan.

‘Blimey!’ said Dave. ‘If that’s true we’ve been looking in the wrong direction.’

‘I don’t think so, Dave,’ said Kate. ‘I’m convinced that Sharon Gregory’s murder is down to one of her lovers.’

‘So am I,’ I said. ‘But there’s one other thing we’ve got to do, Dave. Get on to Richie at Sharon’s airline and find out where her friend Cindy Patterson lives and when she’s likely to be there. I think it’s time we had a word with her. She might have something useful to tell us. In the meantime, I think we’ll have a word with Lance Kramer. I just hope he’s not out painting the town red.’

The Holiday Inn, Regents Park, was in Carburton Street off Great Portland Street.

‘We’re police officers, miss,’ I said to the receptionist. ‘I understand that you have a Mr Lance Kramer staying here.’

The receptionist turned to her computer and keyed in the name. ‘He’s in room 314,’ she said.

‘Is he in the hotel now?’

‘As far as I can tell. I can call him for you if you like.’

‘No thanks, we’d like to surprise him,’ said Dave.

‘Take the lift to the third floor,’ said the receptionist helpfully.

‘I’d more or less worked that out,’ said Dave.

We made our way to Kramer’s room and knocked.

‘Mr Kramer?’

‘Yep, in person.’ The man who answered the door of room 314 was not very tall, probably the same height as Sharon had been: about five foot seven. He was clearly a devotee of permatan; probably an ‘all-over’ guy. He was wearing a half-open orange shirt and light-coloured slacks. A gold medallion was around his neck, nestling in his hairy chest, and an ostentatiously chunky gold watch adorned his right wrist. Possibly left-handed, I thought. Not that that meant anything; Mortlock had said that Sharon’s killer had used both hands. Apart from which, I’d often noticed that ‘arty’ people, particularly actors, were left-handed.

‘We’re police officers, Mr Kramer. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Brock, and this is Detective Sergeant Poole.’

‘Come right on in, gentlemen, have yourselves a seat and tell me how I may help you.’ Kramer perched on the edge of the bed, his face expressing curiosity.

I decided to get straight to the point.