The Hero's Fall (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 14) by Phillip Strang (best classic romance novels txt) 📗

night with her, came down the next day, looked as though he hadn’t slept, not much anyway, and she wasn’t much better.’

‘Was this before or after Hampton fell, broke his back?’

‘After, I believe. I can’t be sure, and it was only the one time I saw her here.’

‘Why here? Why not a hotel or his place?’

‘Maybe it was before he fell. Hampton, if he had suspected, might have been looking for his wife. Mike Hampton didn’t know about this address. If it was before the man fell, then Angus was pushing his luck.’

‘Do you have any ideas on why someone would target Angus?’

‘Apart from Hampton, not really, but then again, Angus didn’t grow up with me. I was there for him, but we weren’t close, and he never took me into his confidence. Surprised he brought the woman back here that night, pleased he did. Showed that he was comfortable with me, not the ogre that he believed.’

‘Your wife telling your son tales when he was a child?’

‘To some extent, but that was fine. Angus was an exuberant child, hyperactive. Down here in London wasn’t conducive to his well-being; in Scotland with his mother was. He grew out of the hyper stage, but still exuberant, pushing the envelope. If it hadn’t been mountaineering, it would have been something else, possibly criminal, probably stupid.’

‘Does crime run in the family?’

‘It depends what your political leanings are. There’s an ancestor, picked the wrong side during the English Civil War in the seventeenth century, sided with the Royalists, lost his head for that error of judgement.’

‘You would have chosen the other side?’

‘I doubt it, although I would have been more careful. If you’re losing, you sue for peace or make a strategic withdrawal. Standing up in the main square professing your devotion to the king and his successors is not the most discreet.’

‘Your business, you never mentioned what it was before,’ Larry said.

‘Trade, nothing more. I would suggest you focus on my son, not me. And now, gentlemen, I wish you a good day. If you wish to talk further, please telephone and make an appointment.’

***

Tricia Warburton, by association, was tainted with scandal and intrigue. She had been close to Angus, having co-hosted their weekly programme with the man. She had already been interviewed; her alibi was solid as she had been reporting Angus’s ascent, and she had denied any romantic involvement.

It was midday, a café not far from Tricia Warburton’s house. Wendy Gladstone assigned the task of getting behind the attractive exterior, the celebrity persona, and the makeup that Wendy thought excessive.

‘I told the police that Angus was a colleague, not a love interest,’ Tricia said as she drank her coffee, careful not to spill any onto her clothes, to wipe her lips with a small handkerchief after every sip.

‘You’ve said that before, and we’re not forming a judgement, only getting to the truth. It’s the same with every murder investigation, a need to conceal the truth, a fear of what might be found, other lovers suspicious. Do you, Tricia, have a lover?’

‘Blunt, aren’t you? Why would I answer a question like that? And if I did, it’s personal.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes. We don’t have time for beating around the bush. Angus was killed for a reason, although it could have been only intended as a warning. The most logical explanation is a distraught lover, statistically the most likely, although it could be something else. Fame through association, someone with mental issues could garner celebrity status by killing the celebrity. That’s happened before.’

‘I know, John Lennon.’

‘Would you, if you and Angus had had a few too many alcoholic beverages one night, have ended up in bed with him?’

‘You mean a one-night stand?’

‘Exactly.’

Tricia Warburton looked over at the waitress, raised her hand, pointed at the two cups on the table. ‘You’ll have another?’ she said to Wendy.

‘Avoiding the question?’ Wendy’s reply.

‘I’m just not sure how to respond. Is this important?’

‘It is.’

‘Yes, I would have been interested. I’m not that innocent, a bit of a tart in my teens, made men out of a few boys, but not these days, slowed down a lot.’

‘We’ve all been there,’ Wendy said. ‘A farmer’s son, didn’t know what hit him.’

‘That might be alright for you, but for me, media fodder.’

‘Is your celebrity that important?’

‘My career’s not over, not by a long way, and if there’s a scandal, it stays around forever. Why these women send naked photos to their boyfriends, I’ll never know. One way or the other, they always end up on social media.’

‘You wouldn’t do that?’

‘I’m not saying I wouldn’t if there was no risk, but I can’t afford it. I can tell you the truth. I don’t want to be damned, and believe me, I’ll be labelled a slut by those that don’t like me, a hussy even by those that do.’

‘You’ve not answered the question.’

‘It was soon after we started working together, an assignment up north. Angus intended to swim the length of Loch Ness, a charity gig with another twenty swimmers. Angus wasn’t into a relay of swimmers; he wanted to complete the distance solo, harder than the Channel as the water temperature is around five degrees centigrade year-round.’

‘Did he succeed?’

‘He came close, but the cold got to him. In the end, we didn’t focus on him, only on the others.’

‘He’s got time on his hands, pent-up energy, disappointment.’

‘All three. It’s late at night, the two of us in the hotel bar. We’re downing whisky, Angus talking about his life, me about a failed romance. One thing led to another, and then the next morning, I wake up, and there he is in my bed.’

‘Are you saying you don’t remember what happened?’

‘I remember.’

‘What else?’

‘Nothing more,