always the case. When his phone went off, he mumbled something about a story and disappeared.’
‘Do you know what the story was?’ Carlyle asked.
‘No.’ Millington shook her head. ‘To be honest, I thought he was making it up.’
‘Oh?’
‘It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d got one of his mates to ring up and pretend to be a work call.’
‘So you were annoyed?’
She looked offended at such a stupid question. ‘I should say so. I was even more pissed off when he texted me ten minutes later saying he would have to go and see some guy.’
‘Some guy?’
‘I assume. Don’t know.’ Grabbing the BlackBerry from the table, she clicked a few keys and showed Carlyle the message on the screen:
Sorry. Important meeting. C u back at urs
.
And to think people worry about the future of the English language, Carlyle thought. ‘So you were expecting him to come back to your place?’
Millington nodded. ‘When he didn’t turn up, I tried his place a few times then I called the police.’
‘It was only a couple of hours.’
‘I know, but the thing about Duncan was that he was
always
contactable. It never took him more than five minutes to return a call or send an email. He was the ultimate multi-tasker.’ She tutted. ‘Once, he even tried to text a message to his Editor when we were shagging.’
Too much information
. Carlyle felt himself blush slightly. ‘So you were worried?’ was all he could think of to say.
‘Yes. I was pretty sure that something was up.’
‘Can you tell me anything else about the guy he went off to meet?’
Another pout. Another snooty expression. Carlyle was reminded just how much he didn’t like lawyers.
‘Or the story that he was working on?’
‘Like I said, no.’
What else should he ask? ‘Was Duncan depressed? Did he seem stressed?’
‘Inspector,’ Millington laughed, ‘everyone in this city is stressed, don’t you think?’
‘Okay,’ Carlyle conceded. ‘But being a tabloid journalist is particularly tough.’
‘True,’ she agreed. ‘Duncan was very insecure.
You’re only as good as your next story
and all that. He was on some rollingfreelance contract. The whole thing was so wearisome – it was one of the reasons I was going to end the relationship.’
The smells coming from the kitchen were beginning to distract the inspector from the matter in hand. Sadly, however, it looked like his host wasn’t going to offer him lunch. Carlyle scooped up his scrap of paper and his empty biro. ‘Final question – did Duncan have any enemies?’
‘Professionally?’
‘Any kind at all.’
‘Not as far as I knew.’
‘None at all?’
‘Duncan was a likeable guy. And he had that great skill for a tabloid reporter – he could do someone over and they’d still ring him up the next day to thank him for the piece.’
‘On the other hand,’ Carlyle mused, ‘someone stabbed him multiple times in the chest.’
Gemma Millington stared out of the window for a few moments, clearly thinking something through. Finally, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card. ‘You might want to talk to this guy.’ She placed the card in front of Carlyle.
Lene Bang, FMP LLP
.
The inspector looked suitably confused.
‘That’s Duncan’s lawyer.’
‘Why did he need a lawyer?’
‘Rightly or wrongly,’ Millington explained, ‘Duncan was worried about getting caught up in the
Witness
phone-hacking scandal.’
Alarm bells started ringing in the back of the inspector’s head.
‘Some of his stories were under investigation,’ she went on.
The bells were getting louder. Why couldn’t he have a straightforward multiple stabbing, without any of this other crap?
‘He had already been questioned under caution.’
The bells, the bells
. . .
‘I’m sure you know all this anyway.’
Yeah, Carlyle thought sarcastically, of course I did, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it in the last half an hour.
‘Lene will be able to give
‘Do you know what the story was?’ Carlyle asked.
‘No.’ Millington shook her head. ‘To be honest, I thought he was making it up.’
‘Oh?’
‘It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d got one of his mates to ring up and pretend to be a work call.’
‘So you were annoyed?’
She looked offended at such a stupid question. ‘I should say so. I was even more pissed off when he texted me ten minutes later saying he would have to go and see some guy.’
‘Some guy?’
‘I assume. Don’t know.’ Grabbing the BlackBerry from the table, she clicked a few keys and showed Carlyle the message on the screen:
Sorry. Important meeting. C u back at urs
.
And to think people worry about the future of the English language, Carlyle thought. ‘So you were expecting him to come back to your place?’
Millington nodded. ‘When he didn’t turn up, I tried his place a few times then I called the police.’
‘It was only a couple of hours.’
‘I know, but the thing about Duncan was that he was
always
contactable. It never took him more than five minutes to return a call or send an email. He was the ultimate multi-tasker.’ She tutted. ‘Once, he even tried to text a message to his Editor when we were shagging.’
Too much information
. Carlyle felt himself blush slightly. ‘So you were worried?’ was all he could think of to say.
‘Yes. I was pretty sure that something was up.’
‘Can you tell me anything else about the guy he went off to meet?’
Another pout. Another snooty expression. Carlyle was reminded just how much he didn’t like lawyers.
‘Or the story that he was working on?’
‘Like I said, no.’
What else should he ask? ‘Was Duncan depressed? Did he seem stressed?’
‘Inspector,’ Millington laughed, ‘everyone in this city is stressed, don’t you think?’
‘Okay,’ Carlyle conceded. ‘But being a tabloid journalist is particularly tough.’
‘True,’ she agreed. ‘Duncan was very insecure.
You’re only as good as your next story
and all that. He was on some rollingfreelance contract. The whole thing was so wearisome – it was one of the reasons I was going to end the relationship.’
The smells coming from the kitchen were beginning to distract the inspector from the matter in hand. Sadly, however, it looked like his host wasn’t going to offer him lunch. Carlyle scooped up his scrap of paper and his empty biro. ‘Final question – did Duncan have any enemies?’
‘Professionally?’
‘Any kind at all.’
‘Not as far as I knew.’
‘None at all?’
‘Duncan was a likeable guy. And he had that great skill for a tabloid reporter – he could do someone over and they’d still ring him up the next day to thank him for the piece.’
‘On the other hand,’ Carlyle mused, ‘someone stabbed him multiple times in the chest.’
Gemma Millington stared out of the window for a few moments, clearly thinking something through. Finally, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card. ‘You might want to talk to this guy.’ She placed the card in front of Carlyle.
Lene Bang, FMP LLP
.
The inspector looked suitably confused.
‘That’s Duncan’s lawyer.’
‘Why did he need a lawyer?’
‘Rightly or wrongly,’ Millington explained, ‘Duncan was worried about getting caught up in the
Witness
phone-hacking scandal.’
Alarm bells started ringing in the back of the inspector’s head.
‘Some of his stories were under investigation,’ she went on.
The bells were getting louder. Why couldn’t he have a straightforward multiple stabbing, without any of this other crap?
‘He had already been questioned under caution.’
The bells, the bells
. . .
‘I’m sure you know all this anyway.’
Yeah, Carlyle thought sarcastically, of course I did, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it in the last half an hour.
‘Lene will be able to give
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