Ramsay 04 - Killjoy Read Online Free Page A

set aside his newspaper and waited for Ramsay to approach him.
    ‘You heard what happened outside tonight?’ Ramsay said.
    Fenwick nodded.
    ‘Is this the only entrance?’
    ‘Aye, that’s right. The trustees decided it’d be more secure that way.’
    ‘Do visitors have to check in?’
    ‘No,’ Fenwick said. ‘ It wouldn’t be practical the number that use the place. But there’s always someone on duty here, day and night. It costs them a packet but they reckon it’s worth it. I’ve been here since ten this morning.’
    ‘Do you ever get any trouble?’ Ramsay asked.
    ‘Nothing we can’t handle,’ the porter said. ‘ It gets a bit rowdy sometimes, especially if they have a rock group in, but not nasty. You know what I mean?’
    Ramsay nodded.
    ‘They got a consultant in to make it vandal-proof—wire-mesh shutters on the windows, everything with locks on. It’s not foolproof—some bugger smashed the security lights last week—but I’ve never had any real bother. I’ve been here since the place opened.’
    ‘So you know most of the regulars, at least by sight?’
    ‘I suppose so, but there’s often something different going on—one-off shows or concerts, that bring in their own audience. I can’t keep track of everyone then.’
    ‘No,’ Ramsay said. ‘ Of course not. Was anything unusual happening tonight?’
    Fenwick shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It was just a normal Monday night—the Youth Theatre rehearsing in the New Theatre, the Choral Society in the music room, and the Writers’ Circle in the small lounge.’
    ‘And all the activities started at the same time?’
    ‘Aye. They all run from seven until nine. It doesn’t always work out like that. The groups fix their own times.’
    ‘Did you know Gabriella Paston?’ Ramsay asked gently.
    ‘Oh, we all knew our Gabby!’ Fenwick exclaimed. ‘Such a bonny lass. It brightened my day to see her.’
    ‘Did you see her today?’
    ‘No,’ Fenwick said. ‘And I missed her.’
    Ramsay paused and Hunter, impatient as always, hoped that he had finished with the old man. But Ramsay continued: ‘You can’t see the car park from here. Do you do any security checks out there?’
    ‘No! The trustees are worried about the building, not the punters’ cars.’
    ‘So you wouldn’t have noticed if Mr Lynch’s car was there all day?’
    ‘No,’ Fenwick said sadly. He would have liked to have helped them.
    ‘We’d like to talk to Mr Lynch,’ Ramsay said. ‘ Where can we find him?’
    ‘Upstairs in his office.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Ramsay said. ‘You’ve been a great help.’ He walked up the curving wooden staircase with Hunter at his heels.
    Gus Lynch was drinking whisky from a large tumbler. His face was grey and the hand that held the glass was shaking. When they knocked at his door he was speaking, caught in mid-sentence, and when they went in his mouth was open, gaping and ridiculous. Ramsay introduced himself. Lynch half stood to greet them and finally shut his mouth.
    ‘I was just explaining to the policeman,’ Lynch said, nodding towards the constable who sat nervously in the corner clutching a notebook on his knee, ‘that I didn’t know anything about it. How could I? I would hardly have given my keys to anyone else if I were intending to dispose of a body.’ He looked around desperately. ‘Now would I?’
    Ramsay ignored the question.
    ‘How long has your car been parked there, sir?’ he asked. The calm question seemed to reassure Lynch. He set the tumbler on the desk and made a visible effort to control his panic.
    ‘Since ten o’clock this morning,’ Lynch answered. ‘I don’t work office hours, Inspector. Most of my active work is done in the evening.’
    ‘And you’ve been in the Centre all day?’
    ‘All day. Certainly.’
    ‘You didn’t go out for lunch?’
    ‘Lunch?’ Lynch expressed surprise as if lunch were too trivial a matter for the Inspector to bother himself with. ‘Oh, yes, of course.