Feston: ‘I’ve a memory for faces. Oh, yes. It’s quite an asset because people met at a certain part of our time here below may float back in later, and it helps if we can place them, as it were. You will, I’m sure, have read the novels of Anthony Powell – spelt P O W E L L but pronounced Pole – where characters drift in and out of one another’s lives over twelve volumes. Think of his one-time girlfriend, Jean Templer, turning up all those years later married to a South American colonel. That’s why I’m so interested in his books – called A Dance to the Music of Time. Mr Pellotte too, of course.’
Cule: ‘Gervaise Manciple Tasker won’t be dancing back into your life.’
Feston: ‘There will be losses, gaps.’
Esther had watched some of the interview via the one-way glass. Feston looked at ease, as Esther would have expected. He’d been through a lot of interrogations before. He knew what signs Cule would be alert for, as symptoms of lying and guilt. Feston didn’t give any, not in what he said, nor in body language. The manuals taught that guilty liars were inclined to answer the interviewer’s questions in brief, terse terms and offer no additional comment. That is, if they answered at all. Feston’s reveries about the writer – Powell, Pole? Who he? – such wanderings would be regarded by some interrogation experts as evidence of untroubled innocence. So would other reactions. For instance, Esther saw no hesitations in Feston’s replies. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the chance of a chinwag. His voice sounded comfortable and assured, his grammar stayed OK, and his breathing. All sorts of research had been done on breathing as an indicator of truth/falsehood.
Cule: ‘Even though you have this exceptional memory for faces, was Tasker’s visit special in some way, so that you recalled it on seeing his pictures?’
Feston: ‘Mr Adrian Pellotte, chairman of Happy Gardening Solutions, is very keen to build a good, warm, personal contact with customers. Above all, personal. Staff, including myself, willingly follow that practice. In this day and age when so much buying and selling is done remotely – by phone, for instance – the personal aspect in our kind of business becomes even more important. There is a kind of brotherhood formed by a shared interest in things of the soil.’
Cule: ‘Soul?’
Feston: ‘Soil. But soul as well.’
Cule: ‘What is your role at Happy Gardening Solutions?’
Feston: ‘I am Mr Pellotte’s driver.’
Cule: ‘But do you also have a role specific to Happy Gardening Solutions?’
Feston: ‘I try to busy myself, when we’re not in the car.’
Cule: ‘In what ways?’
Feston: ‘General. As it comes. I like to think of myself as an all-rounder, in the best sense of that term.’
Cule: ‘Which is the best?’
Feston: ‘Not a dilettante, knowing tiny bits about a lot. Able to turn my hand to many a task.’
Cule: ‘What drew your notice to Gervaise Manciple Tasker?’
Feston: ‘He seemed to be wandering about, a little lost.’
Cule: ‘You asked him what he was interested in, did you?’
Feston: ‘I think he wanted to look at sheds. He seemed to have an inclination towards sheds. People do get inclinations. It might be sheds, it might be flagstones, or bird baths.’
Cule: ‘And, given his inclination, did you take him to see the sheds? Which kind of shed did he seem inclined towards – for instance, a gazebo-type shed, or just a shed for keeping garden tools in?’
Feston: ‘There is, indeed, a wide choice of sheds, varying very considerably in price, as you’d expect. Some people inclined towards sheds are subconsciously looking for a bolt-hole, a private nest, a den, four walls and a roof, though in miniature when viewed against more substantial property.’
Cule: ‘Did he buy a shed?’
Feston: ‘No, not that day.’
Cule: ‘Did he come back and buy a shed another day?’
Feston: ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see him again.’
Cule: ‘Did he buy anything at all on the day you did see him?’
Feston: ‘Not while I was with him.’
Cule: ‘Did that seem odd to you?’
Feston: ‘In which way?’
Cule: ‘Did it make you wonder why he was there at all?’
Feston: ‘People do come to sightsee. It’s a spot that frees them for a time from their urban surroundings, yet reasonably accessible to London. They can follow those inclinations I mentioned, in a relaxed style. Mr Pellotte is happy to provide the ground for that.’
Cule liked to operate in a room with no table between him and the suspect. He believed a table not only imposed distance, but acted as a kind of protective barrier for the subject, a rampart. Also, with no table to hide the lower body any uncontrolled, spasmodic movement there would be on show. Some interviewees could regulate their facial expressions well enough and keep their features deadpan or relaxed or even jolly. They concentrated on this, because they believed the interviewer would watch the face for giveaway symptoms of confusion or fright or concealment. Their anxieties might register in their feet and legs, though. And in their bladder and/or bowels, of course: this would be evident whether the room had a table or not. But Feston stayed composed throughout his entire body. He didn’t smile non-stop, like a frozen, taunting, defensive pose, but when he did smile it was a happy testament to mateyness and contentment. Esther had the idea he knew there would be an invisible audience behind the window, and he behaved as though he wanted to convey that mateyness and share that contentment not just with Cule but with her and anyone else taking a peep. You’d think Feston was the host and all the rest guests to be considerately cared for and entertained. No wonder he’d risen to be chief bottle washer and top dogsbody in the Pellotte outfit.
Cule: ‘You talked to him for some while, did you?’
Feston: ‘I wanted to find what he was focused on.’
Cule: ‘As to happy solutions for his garden?’
Feston: ‘Exactly. This seemed very much in line with Mr Pellotte’s ideas about the personal.’
Cule: ‘Do you have a security function with Pellotte’s firm?’
Feston: ‘“Security” in what sense?’
Cule: ‘In the sense that this non-purchasing visitor might be some kind of spy.’
Feston: ‘“Spy”?’
Cule: ‘On reconnaissance.’
Feston: ‘What would there be to spy on at Happy Gardening Solutions?’
Cule: ‘You talked. What about?’
Feston: ‘I’ve said, I tried to get him focused.’
Cule: ‘On sheds?’
Feston: ‘On whatever.’
Cule: ‘Did someone call you down because they thought this customer might not be a customer, but someone loitering, casing the place?’
Feston: ‘Call me down from where?’
Cule: ‘From the firm’s headquarters upstairs.’
Feston: ‘I try to get around the grounds quite a bit, to see things are OK, and offer that personal contact when needed. Although Mr Pellotte is keen on this, he hasn’t always got time to see to it himself. I’m glad to circulate on his behalf.’
Cule: ‘The offices are above a showroom, aren’t they? He’d been looking at big mowers in there. But not buying.’
Feston: ‘With those big mowers, people often come in two or three times, or even more. They are expensive.’
Cule: ‘Would the people who called you down suspect he was using an apparent interest in the mowers to cover his real interest – the way up to the firm’s offices on the first floor, and how that entrance was guarded? Perhaps with the intention of describing these arrangements somewhere, and raising queries about why such exceptional vigilance was needed?’
Feston: ‘Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see themselves as like a tank commander when sitting on one of the biggest mowers! Brmmm, brmmm! They’re thrilled. Amusing in its way. That doesn’t mean they’ll rush to buy, though. Their lawn must be extensive enough to justi
fy it.’
Cule: ‘The people who called you down would probably wonder, wouldn’t they, whether this was some journalist, ferreting about for a story about your firm. Or someone from Temperate preparing plans of your headquarters. Either way, they’re going to be worried and they’ll call security. That’s you, isn’t it?’
Feston: ‘Unless you’ve got a manor house and acres, one of the big mowers is an extravagance, a bit of conspicuous consumption – boasting, in fact.’
Cule: ‘You had him marked as a reporter, I expect. You’d know the shed and/or big mower didn’t really matter.’
Feston: ‘We get all sorts there. That’s the thing about gardening – it’s classless.’
Cule: ‘You say you didn’t know his identity at this stage. Did you try to get it, and, say, an address?’
Fenton: ‘We discussed many a topic, I can assure you.’
Cule: ‘Did you get a name and address finally?’
Fenton: ‘Happy Gardening Solutions would like to maintain a link with our customers, by brochures delivered to the house. That kind of practice. It’s part of the personal approach established by Mr Pellotte which I believe I spoke about just now. But there would be no forcing of ourselves on people. It can be counterproductive. Think of the hostility to timeshare projects because of hard-sell methods.’
Cule: ‘I was talked into timeshare by some persistent woman in the Seychelles. One of my biggest errors ever, believe me.’
Esther didn’t. A lie. Watching, she felt sure of that. Esther knew it to be the kind of trick tactic most interrogators used, though not one recommended in any manual. There could be no official endorsement of deception. Of course, Dean Feston might recognize a tactic, anyway. He had all that experience. Cule would risk it, just the same, because so far the interview had produced next to nothing.
Feston: ‘Oh’.
And Esther saw his right leg quiver for a second. Not more than quiver – much less than a twitch. But Cule, also, would see it. He had crafted it. The purpose of such a lie broke into seven easily defined parts:
(1) For the moment it reversed power arrangements in the room. The interviewer, until now controlling from the catbird seat, suddenly looked weak, and possibly weaker than the interviewee. Feston had said without saying it that he would never get taken in by a timeshare sales woman.
(2) This apparent weakness might please the interviewee. ‘I’ve knocked the bugger off his perch.’ The leg tremor signalled joy at a little victory, and perhaps more to come.
(3) The interviewee might think he should consolidate his one-upness by sympathizing with the interviewer, offering condolences and condescension.
Feston: ‘I’m sorry. But that’s what I mean, isn’t it? These people are trained to break down even the strongest, most clued-up buyer?’
(4) The interviewee relaxes more, gets smug. ‘This cop’s not just human, he’s dim.’
(5) The interviewer notes the fall into self-confidence – shocks him, hits him hard with the real, businesslike questions.
(6) He’s confused by the latest change.
(7) His answers become less controlled, even careless.
Cule: ‘I’m interested in a Pellotte staffer called Gabrielle Barter Cornish.’
Feston: ‘Ah, Gabrielle.’
Cule: ‘We have someone else talking to her.’
Feston: ‘A valued employee of Happy Gardening Solutions.’
Cule: ‘What duties?’
Feston: ‘General. But mainly on the customer relations side.’
Cule: ‘Meaning?’
Feston: ‘That essentially personal approach favoured by Mr Pellotte.’
Cule: ‘Would it involve tailing someone?’
Feston: ‘Tailing?’
Cule: ‘You like full background data on people, don’t you? Famous for it.’
Feston: ‘This can be helpful in our dealings with customers. We like to record what interests them, so they are informed of new products they might wish to avail themselves of.’
Cule: ‘Did you put Gabrielle Barter Cornish on to Tasker to find where he lived and chart his movements?’
Feston: ‘“Put on”? In which sense?’
Cule: ‘A company car, bumper-to-bumpering.’
Feston: ‘Gabrielle might have sought some information on him for her own purposes.’
Cule: ‘Which?’
Feston: ‘Which what?’
Cule: ‘Purposes.’
Feston: ‘The customer relations area that I’ve spoken of. Mr Pellotte encourages staff to follow their own initiatives.’
Cule: ‘Something about him and your conversation at Happy Gardening Solutions disturbed you, yes?’
Feston: ‘Why would I get “disturbed” by a visitor to Happy Gardening Solutions? A chat of that kind is so normal.’
Cule: ‘You asked Gabrielle Barter Cornish to do some checks on him, did you? Mobiled her, so she could be ready to pick him up when he left? Did you tell Adrian Pellotte you felt troubled about this “customer” – Tasker.’
Feston: ‘I didn’t know his name was Tasker.’
Cule: ‘But you wanted to discover it, and anything else you could, or that Gabrielle Barter Cornish could. Would you have authority alone to send her after Tasker? Did Pellotte suggest it, or, perhaps, confirm your decision as security to have him tailed? Do you hold in a data bank somewhere his name, address and daily routines?’
Feston: ‘All of the “data” – i.e., ordinary information – all of such “data” I have on him comes from media reports of his death – single, a journalist, as you’ve suggested – freelance, flat in Chiswick, late twenties.’
Cule: ‘We know when he was killed and, of course, where he was found.’
Feston: ‘Awful.’
Cule: ‘But not where he was killed.’
Feston: ‘That would be crucial.’
Cule: ‘We’re told death occurred sometime in the evening of Saturday, September nineteenth. Can you recall how you spent that day? It’s not very long ago.’
Feston: ‘I would certainly have gone in to Happy Gardening Solutions in the morning. Saturday is a major trading day for us, of course.’
Cule: ‘No, take things backwards, from the evening, will you?’
Feston: ‘Backwards?’
Cule: Begin with the evening and then go step by step over your activities during the afternoon and morning.’
There was a theory around that if a suspect were told to give his/her account of events in reverse order he/she would be more likely to trip up. Lying took plenty of effort and care, even when presented as a straightforward version of things: much more effort and care than telling the truth. To lie in an anti-sequence way brought big extra strain, and possible errors. University researchers somewhere claimed to have proved the effectiveness of this type of interrogation and had given it a name – ‘cognitive load interviews’. All interrogations involved applying a load to the interviewee’s brain. Back-to-front interrogation aimed to apply an overload.
But, of course, Dean Feston had heard of this ploy, and knew how to cope. Just as he had known how to cope with Cule’s earlier attempt to throw him by momentarily upending the status positions and making himself look stupid. That tiny leg jerk might have signalled a minor triumph, but Feston had never slipped into complacency. The transcript didn’t bother to follow any more questions and answers, merely summarized Feston’s description of his activities on September 19 which, naturally, said there’d been no contact with Gervaise Manciple Tasker, nor even a sighting of him. And for a lot of the time there were references to witnesses who would support Feston.
The transcript of the interview with Gabrielle Barter Cornish was similarly useless. Probably under advice, she refused to answer all questions. Feston would never do that. He enjoyed conversation too much.
Eight
Dean Feston said: ‘The newspaper critics seemed to have liked what some others might regard as an extremely unfortunate development on the la
test A Week in Review programme, Larry. Massively unfortunate. I call it unfortunate – massively unfortunate – but I can assure you that Adrian in no way feels you, as producer, were to blame. Not entirely at all. He does not see intent there. Hardly any intent to injure him personally.’
‘This is a live show and one must expect . . . well, life and all its unpredictabilities,’ Pellotte said. He laced his voice with patience, reasonableness, conditional mercy.
‘It’s what Adrian means by “live and let live” as quoted previously,’ Dean said. ‘Up to a certain point, live and let live, his mantra. Up to a certain generously arrived at point. He believes that many have an absolute right to life. Yes, many.’
‘A pleasant place you have here, Larry,’ Pellotte replied.
‘It suits me,’ Larry Edgehill said. This time, Pellotte and Dean had doorstepped him. But they came by taxi, so there should be no neighbourhood speculation about the BMW parked outside 19a. They both wore fine, dark, double-breasted suits, Pellotte’s grey, Dean’s navy, to show respect for Edgehill and his property, though he knew they would probably have dressed with the same care if here to take him apart.
‘Adrian’s thinking was that another interception in the street, as occurred in Gideon Road, previously, wouldn’t be quite right for a more . . . more substantive talk,’ Dean said. ‘I concurred readily, very readily. We did mention in Gideon the likelihood of something more substantive probably being necessary later, didn’t we? Adrian saw the Gideon meeting as valuable and, indeed, timely, but only what the diplomats call “talk about talks”, meaning the more substantive get-together would follow.’
‘Along those lines, yes,’ Pellotte said.
‘And then, on top of those, as it were, general, prevailing issues covered at that time in Gideon comes this additional, unexpected grossly gaudy lech factor in the latest of your programmes, Larry – your name across the screen in large, proud letters, “Produced by Larry Edgehill”. Adrian felt we needed a more settled environment for such a multifaceted discussion.’