Murder in Adland by Bruce Beckham Page B

lights down low.’
    DS Jones
nods and makes a note in her pocket book.
    ‘What
happened to all the ornaments?’
    ‘Ivan made
sure we put them back.  He always said in his opening speech about how we
should behave – so we would be welcomed back at any hotel we hired. 
I don’t mean he wasn’t up for a caper himself – he abseiled down a
stairwell at one place – but any gratuitous damage and he’d be really
upset.’
    ‘You said
Mr Tregilgis had a weakness for Ms Morocco.  What do you mean by that?’
    ‘They go
back a long way.  Krista once said Ivan had her on his conscience... from
when they went out together – but I suppose she told you about that?’
    DS Jones
does not reply.  Instead she asks another question.
    ‘It seems
to be a widely held opinion that Mr Tregilgis and Ms Rubicon were having an
affair.  Is it possible he was involved with Ms Morocco at the same time?’
    ‘No
chance.’
    ‘How can
you be so certain?’
    ‘Krista
wouldn’t put herself in the position where Julia could manipulate her. 
Not after all the hassle she gave us.  Thankfully she used her charms on
Ivan and had Julia shipped to Scotland.’
    ‘You make
it sound like a deportation.’
    ‘Who would
voluntarily want Dermott breathing down their neck – literally?’
    Melanie Stark’s
features crease into an expression of distaste.
    ‘He’s not
so popular?’
    ‘His habits
are rather schoolboy-like – something to do with being jealous of Ivan’s
charisma – but he doesn’t have a grown-up solution of his own.  Plus
he’s obsessively anal when it comes to work – for instance, he insists we
buy petrol in amounts divisible by the VAT rate to make it easy for the
book-keeper to do our expenses!’
    At the
memory her expression becomes one of incredulity.
    ‘I gather
Mr Goldsmith is a diabetic?’
    Now Melanie
Stark raises her eyebrows in a weary gesture.
    ‘Don’t we
all know it?’
    ‘Somebody
mentioned that they saw him at about a quarter to one – signalling that
he was about to go to give himself an insulin injection – did you happen
to notice him leave?’
    Melanie Stark
shakes her head.
    ‘I’d be
surprised about that.  Normally we get a public display – usually at
the dinner table – never mind that half of us are nearly throwing
up.  And Elspeth revels in it, too.’
    DS Jones
nods.
    ‘We’re told
she has an important role in the company.’
    Melanie Stark
gives an ironic chuckle.
    ‘If by that
you mean all the crap that Dermott doesn’t want to do, then yes.’
    ‘Mrs
Goldsmith told us that she was “catching up on the gossip” with you on Saturday
night – Sunday morning in fact.’
    ‘Well,
knowledge is power, as they say.’
    ‘When
exactly was this?’
    ‘Just
before the big commotion.  We were leaning up against the bar eating some
leftover pudding that she’d rustled up.’
    ‘You didn’t
mention in your statement that you were with her just as Mr Tregilgis’s murder
was discovered.’
    Melanie Stark
looks suddenly disconcerted.
    ‘I must
have got confused – I mean – when the policeman interviewed me I
hadn’t slept and I’d got a terrible hangover.  Seeing Ivan’s body –
and Miriam hysterical – it was such a shock – it was hard to
remember much before that.’
    DS Jones
remains silent.  After a few moments Melanie Stark speaks again, her voice
strained as she directs the question at a brooding Skelgill.
    ‘Inspector
– you don’t think I had something to do with this, do you?’
    Skelgill
rouses himself from his torpor and stares at her menacingly.  But then he
relents and shrugs his shoulders.
    ‘You sound
like you’re telling the truth to me, madam.’
    The woman
visibly relaxes, and then she leans forward across the desk, as though she
wants to share something with them.  But she waits for the invitation.
    ‘Madam?’
    ‘About
Dermott – going to inject himself?’
    ‘Aye?’
    ‘My
husband’s diabetic – he would never do it at that