Summit of all fears, p.21
Summit of all Fears, page 21
31
“Cute,” said Geri.
“At least you lot’ve smartened yourselves up,” she said, taking a long sip from a glass of red wine.
Martha didn’t like this. There was a strangeness to Eleanor’s tone. She knew something she wasn’t saying. It wasn’t quite arrogance, but certainly confidence. And that made Martha uncomfortable.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Eleanor asked, coolly.
“We’re here to see Roberta,” said Martha, trying to match the confidence.
“Is that so. And why would that be?”
“We’ve reason to believe, strong reason in fact, that we may be a step closer to catching Murray’s killer.”
Eleanor let out a laugh, although it sounded more like a screeching cackle. Martha realised that this was the first time they’d seen Eleanor David smile. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant sight. She threw her head back, guffawing loudly. Then she started to clap slowly.
“Bravo,” she said. “Bravo indeed. You know, you don’t expect to get many laughs in this job. And believe me there aren’t many to be found. But it’s nice to see you three still have a sense of humour after everything you’ve put us through.”
The sky beyond the tinted windows was darkening as the sun dropped lower in the city sky. It seemed to cast a long, dark shadow over the proceedings. Martha wondered if the police officers were still tucking into the leftovers in the kitchen. She hoped they were.
“I’m glad we entertain you, Eleanor,” said Martha. “But we really do need to speak to Roberta. It’s urgent.”
“Mrs Steiner is not available, to you or to anybody else. I have strict instructions on that matter. You won’t be seeing her again.”
“Where is she?” asked Helen.
Eleanor didn’t look in her direction. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the remnants of her dinner.
“She’s on her way to the airport,” she said. “She’s leaving London tonight to be at the family home in California. Mr Murray’s remains will be flown over, too, when his body is released from police custody. That’s all you need to know.”
“Well I think you should get her on the phone,” said Helen. “Because what we’ve got to say to her is going to put a crimp in that plan.”
Eleanor slammed down her cutlery. This time she looked at Helen.
“Is that so?” she said.
“Yeah, it is,” said Helen, stepping forward a little. “So if you wouldn’t mind, could you get on one of your five hundred devices and ring her up. We want to talk to her.”
Eleanor raised a napkin to her mouth and dabbed it gently. She raised an eyebrow and steepled her fingers, levelling her gaze at all three Parkers.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she said with a smirk. “You three really don’t get it.”
“Get what?” asked Geri. “Come to think of it, what a stupid question. You’re clearly going to tell us, seeing as you’re in your whole full Bond villain mode.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Eleanor.
“You don’t know what a Bond villain is?” Geri yelped. “Are you kidding me?”
“I must admit, I don’t get it either,” whispered Helen.
“Savages,” said Geri.
“Roberta doesn’t have any time for people like you, not really. She gives you a place because she chooses to. She can make you, and she can break you, just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“Hey, watch it,” said Helen. “People like us? What’s that supposed to mean.”
“Where is she Eleanor?” said Martha.
“I told you,” she said.
“We know.”
Eleanor composed herself. She stood up from behind the table and drained her glass.
“And just what do you know exactly?” she said menacingly. “What is it you three bumpkins think you know, eh? I’m desperate to hear this. Because I’ve spent the better part of two months listening and reading about how you three are supposedly the next big thing when it comes to private investigation in this country. I keep seeing things online, reading magazine features, pictures of all three of you looking slovenly and dishevelled, like something the cat dragged in. And I’m yet to see any evidence of the brilliant investigative minds that you all apparently possess. Stop me if I’m wrong.”
“You should have stopped a long time ago love,” snorted Geri.
“Ah yes, the baby of the group,” said Eleanor with a sneer. “The one who thinks it's acceptable to spend the night with another woman’s husband. The one who’s always quick with a quip and a sarcastic putdown, even though she’s got no qualifications, no background and absolutely no life experience.”
“You can’t talk to her like that,” said Helen. “That’s bang out of order, and I don’t care who or what you are, lady.”
“Oh no, have I brought on the wrath of the great sleeping giant,” Eleanor pretended to quiver. “I wouldn’t want to be absolutely bored to death with another one of her lectures. Or worse still, the seemingly endless tomes you call your blog posts on your university department’s website. Not that you’ll be doing those any time soon, you’ve been terminated as far as I’m aware, isn’t that right?”
Helen didn’t reply. She was too affronted. Her cheeks flushed, and her mouth goldfished. Martha remained silent. She was thinking, or at least trying to think. It wasn’t easy when she was feeling so angry.
“And that brings us to the leader of this motley crew,” said Eleanor, turning on her. “Martha Parker, the blandest woman in the world. The one who claims to shun the spotlight, but is perfectly happy to be plastered all over this conference, my conference, and takes everything that’s offered on a plate to her. The woman who pretends to be a virtuous bastion of truth and as straight an arrow as you can find. Only to run out on promises—and contractual agreements I may add. Yes, I think that about covers it. I can’t wait to hear what you three have got to say. And I’m sure Roberta will adjust her busy schedule to listen to it.”
She rounded the table, collecting her phones and tablets. Shoving her way past Martha, Helen and Geri, she marched down the central aisle of the restaurant.
“She killed him, didn’t she?” said Martha. “And you know she did it.”
Eleanor came to a gentle stop. She shook her head, her back still to the Parkers.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Martha,” she said with a laugh. “And it’s absolutely ludicrous that you would make such an accusation, both to me and about Roberta.”
“We know about Murray’s allergies,” Martha volleyed back. “And that Roberta was the only person who would vet his meals before he ate them. That’s information that’s not out there in the public domain Eleanor. But the chef here at the Imperial told us. And he’s willing to testify in a court of law should it come to that.”
“Blanc? That old drunk? There’s no jury in the world that would listen to a word he has to say,” said Eleanor, finally turning to face the others. “And if you think that’s supposed to scare me, then you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Scare you?” asked Martha. “We’re not trying to scare you. We’re asking for your help. Roberta Steiner is a prime suspect her husband’s murder. You can’t stand in the way of justice, no matter who is to blame.”
“Justice? What would you lot know about justice?” she laughed. “It’s just another word to you. You wouldn’t know what it meant if it came up and slapped you in the face.”
“You can’t protect her, Eleanor,” said Geri. “We know that she had access to Murray’s meals. We know that she was the only one who did. He was poisoned, he died from too much potassium. It all adds up.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Eleanor screamed.
Her voice echoed off the grand walls of the rooftop restaurant. The place fell silent when it had faded into nothing. And the calm veneer of the SteinerCon director was broken.
“Do you have any idea what he put her through?” she said, her breath short. “Can you even begin to imagine what it was like being married to that pig? Day in and day out being made to feel like you’re six inches tall. And being forced to go out there, into the limelight and protect him, help him, put him on that pedestal that all of his fans, all of you people put him on. Oh yes, the great Murray Steiner, the rogue with a glint in his eye and a smile on his lips. He’s your best friend, your big brother, your kindly uncle and loving dad all rolled into one. Isn’t he? And the world loved him back. But all the while he was a monster, a tyrant, one of the worst people I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. Let alone working with.
“How Roberta put up with him for all of these years I’ll never know. Even on phone calls he would be dismissive of her, talk over her, make her sound like some cheap bimbo who didn’t know what she was talking about. He believed, and I know this as he told me often enough, that he was responsible for her fame and fortune, for everything she had achieved. He always used to say to me that, if it wasn’t for him, none of us would have a job—and that included Roberta.”
“Why did you put up with it?” asked Helen. “Why the hell didn’t you tell this creep where to go?”
“Because he was Murray Steiner,” said Eleanor, with a caustic laugh. “He thought he was untouchable, and so he was. He was a relic from a time gone by. He was a dinosaur, brought up to see women as objects and people as disposable.”
“But scumbags like that are being brought to order now,” said Geri. “Nobody has to put up with that kind of treatment. Nobody ever should have, right enough. But the time for hiding from bullies like Murray Steiner is over.”
“And so, now, is Murray Steiner.”
There was a finality to Eleanor’s words. Martha felt like she’d been kicked in the chest. She looked down at her hands and saw they were trembling. She tried to compute everything that had been said, everything that Eleanor had just thrown at them all. And she tried to think of what to do next.
A door from the kitchens opened, surprising them all. The two police women came out, serious looks on their faces. They were tense and taut, cautiously fanning out when they saw the others.
“What’s all the shouting about in here?” asked the taller of the two.
“I thought you guys were staff?” asked the other.
“I’m sorry officers,” said Martha. “We’re not staff. We’ve come here to apprehend Mrs—”
“Me,” said Eleanor.
“What?” stuttered Martha.
“They’ve come to apprehend me officers,” she turned to face the cops. “These three women, they’re private detectives, investigators. They’re Martha, Helen and Geri Parker. They’re guests of honour at this convention and I’m its director, Eleanor David.”
“Eleanor, what are you doing?” asked Geri, stepping forward.
“Stay where you are,” the taller officer warned.
They both drew their batons, their hands held up in front of them for protection. Martha thought her head was going to burst. She didn’t know if she could compute what was going on.
“I believe you have an open investigation into the murder of Murray Steiner in this hotel,” said Eleanor. “I’d like to confess to that murder. I poisoned Murray Steiner, laced his final meal with potassium. Check the toxicology report, that’s what will have killed him. I did it and I’d like to be arrested.”
“Eleanor,” Helen and Geri exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
“I said stand back,” demanded the cops.
Eleanor placed her phones and tablets on the ground. Then she offered her wrists to the police women.
“Control, we have a situation in the top floor restaurant,” said the taller of the cops, speaking into the radio mounted on her vest. “A woman called Eleanor David has just confessed to the murder of Murray Steiner.”
There was a garbled message of static and the cop’s face went white.
“Roger,” she said.
Pulling her cuffs from her belt, she stepped forward and slapped them on Eleanor’s wrists with a click.
“Eleanor David, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You don’t have to say anything but it may harm your defence if—”
“You can’t do this!” Martha shouted at them.
She had no idea where the voice had come from. She felt like she was operating on autopilot.
“Stand back,” said the other officer, grabbing her.
“But she’s innocent, she didn’t do it. It’s not her.”
“I said stand back, madam.”
The cop raised her baton and threatened Martha. She settled down as Helen and Geri pulled her back. The taller of the officers led Eleanor away towards the lifts, talking into her radio. As she went, Eleanor looked back over her shoulder at the Parker sisters. A wry, knowing smile made her face twitch. And then she was gone.
32
The press had managed to break through the barriers. The brave hotel staff had locked all the doors and hoped that guests not attending SteinerCon would understand. They didn’t. These were some of the most important people in the world after all. They had business meetings to go to, shopping to be done, football matches to attend. The list was endless.
In the end, the management had caved. They made their pleas to the police and opened the doors regardless. And as one open door provides an escape for the gilded elite, it also swung the other way. Newspaper reporters had been waiting outside all day. TV camera crews had gathered in a makeshift shanty town of open-backed vans with giant dishes and hi-tech equipment on the pavement just outside the boundaries of the hotel. When the police had closed the place down their numbers had swollen.
First they were a trickle, just a few of the well-known braver souls among the press pack. Seeing their colleagues get great success in cornering passers-by and convention attendees already interviewed by the Met, the others chanced their arm. It didn’t take long for the main concourse and lobby of the Imperial to become a fully-blown media circus. The staff were overwhelmed, the guests were happy to chat and the journalists were shooting fish in a barrel.
Martha had never seen anything quite so manic. Even the kitchens of the hotel seemed positively calm compared to this. In there it was organised chaos. The main concourse was pure bedlam, unfiltered bedlam that would drive even the most placid of people mad.
Thankfully Martha had passed beyond the realm of all halfway sensible thought. Eleanor David’s performance in front of the police was perhaps the strangest few minutes she’d ever been a part of. Now, as she, Helen and Geri were led out of the lift by the police, she felt like she was walking on air. Everything felt that little bit more detached than before. She didn’t really believe in out of body experiences. Although the last ten minutes had given her more than enough evidence that they might, in fact, be real.
“Come on, keep moving,” said the officer.
She nudged them onwards away from the lift. The noise was louder down here, every voice felt like it was competing with the next to see who could talk and shout the loudest. Only there would never be a winner. It was non-stop, endless, a cavalcade of sound.
Camera flashes went off here and there, punctuating the sensory overload. They made Martha wince as she passed by. Occasionally there would be a news anchor talking into a camera. Artificial light made their faces ghostly as they spoke in different languages, beaming the news all over the world. News that, she suspected, would be incorrect.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Helen.
Her voice was comforting to Martha, even over the din. The cop remained stoic. Martha had noticed they had a habit of that down here in London.
“Debrief,” she said. “We’ll need to get statements from all three of you. You’re witnesses to the confession and we need to make sure nothing goes unchecked.”
“We know,” said Geri wearily. “We’re private investigators, remember? We have a fairly good idea as to how all of this works.”
The cop didn’t answer her that time. They carved a path through the journalists and guests, now all mixed together like ingredients of a cocktail.
“Do they know?” asked Martha.
“Know what?” asked the cop.
“That you’ve made an arrest.”
“I wouldn't have thought so,” she said. “But you can never be too sure. The Met is as leaky as a watering can. All my colleagues will know now, it’s just a matter of time. Plus there’s the media team. I’m sure they’re getting off their arses as we speak to cobble something together for these vultures. If you want my advice, you’ll do yourselves a favour and not talk to them.”
“We learned that the hard way,” said Martha. “Believe me, we learned.”
The cop led them through the maelstrom, all the way past the front reception and out to the front courtyard. The whole area that had earlier been packed with taxis and hotel cars was now awash with police vehicles. A huge articulated lorry decked out in the Metropolitan Police colours and livery sat across the small parking section close to the main road. On the back was a mounted command centre, officers standing guard near the doors.
The officer led the Parker sisters towards the glorified portacabin and ushered them up the narrow metal steps that led inside. A flurry of camera flashes and volleys of questions came from the contingent of journalists still lingering outside. Martha didn’t answer them. And thankfully, neither did Helen or Geri.
Inside a gust of cool, recirculated air brought Martha around a little. The command centre seemed bigger on the inside than the exterior would have suggested. There was a conference table, desks, computers and a communications station. Half a dozen police men and women passed paperwork between then, coordinating their whole operation from the safety of their temporary war room.
At the top end of the cabin was a distinguished looking man. His white hair was combed neatly across his forehead, dark blue eyes scanning a stack of files in front of him. The cop led the Parkers up to his desk and stood to one side.
