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“Thanks.”
“Right,” said Briggs. “You go and speak to your dad and then get to The Queen’s to see Val White. I’ll get one of the lads to organise the incident room, and the rest of them on the statements.”
Chapter Ten
Gardener had made two coffees and one herbal tea while Reilly sat with Malcolm at the kitchen table. The room was long and wide, and had fully fitted Scandinavian pine units running its entire length with concealed strip lighting. The walls and the floor were tiled to match the units.
For Gardener, the kitchen was a room with pleasant reminders of Sarah. Everywhere he glanced he saw something on which he could reflect: several small clay-figure animals she had made herself; an oil painting of her parents’ cottage – her first and last attempt; a wall clock in the shape of a tulip, reminding him of their romantic weekend in Amsterdam. He placed the coffees on the table, sitting opposite his father.
“Look, Dad, I appreciate there’s never a good time, and I know it’s been a terrible shock, but we have to talk to you about Leonard White.”
The expression on Malcolm’s face softened. “Of course. I’m sorry about yesterday, Son.”
“You don’t
have to apologise. What happened at the theatre was pretty horrific by anyone’s standards. If it wasn’t for the fact that we have an investigation to run, I’d respect your privacy to grieve a little longer.”
“Thank you. You can ask me anything you want, but I don’t know how much use I’ll be.”
“You’d be surprised how many people say that, Malcolm,” said Reilly.
“How well did you know him, Dad?”
“Perhaps not as well as you might think. We didn’t meet properly until the mid-Seventies. Pretty much after his days at Hammer Studios.”
“And you’d never met before then?”
“No. I’d seen his films. You know me, Stewart, I’ve always loved films. Deep down, I’d have given anything to be an actor.”
Gardener didn’t need reminding of his dad’s love of the cinema. He had managed to take Chris once a week for as long as he could remember. “So, when and why did your paths cross?” he asked.
Malcolm pursed his lips. “I think it would be late ’76. He formed part of the local watch committee.”
“What’s a watch committee, Malcolm?” asked Reilly.
“Every town has one, or used to, anyway. When you make a film, after its final edit, you send it to the British Board of Film Classification. They issue a certificate. Once it’s distributed, the local watch committee for the area then vets the film. They have the power to make further cuts, and even issue another certificate. Well, that’s what we did, watched the films and either approved or disapproved.”
“How many made up the committee?” asked Gardener.
“Four.”
“Can you remember the other two?”
Malcolm thought long and hard. “Sorry, Stewart, it’s a long time ago.”
“I realise that, Dad, but you’ll have to try to remember. It’s a possible link. A long shot, maybe, but we have to investigate everything.”
Malcolm took another sip of coffee. “I’m pretty sure one of them died a few years ago, in a car crash. I will try, Stewart, it’s just, with everything that’s happened...”
“It’s okay, Dad, take your time.” Gardener changed topics. “What about his wife, did you ever meet her?”
“Occasionally, social functions, town hall duty, that sort of thing. Val, I think her name was.”
“How did she strike you?”
“Full of her own importance, didn’t seem to care about anyone but herself. I always got the impression that she thought she was above us all. To be honest, I don’t think she had two farthings to rub together when she met Leonard. I never thought it would work. They were like chalk and cheese. I think she married him for his money, I certainly can’t think of another reason. She always made me feel uncomfortable.”
“But you wouldn’t take her for a murderer?” asked Reilly.
