Page 112 of Reinventing Cato
He checked Dan Frayn next. He’d left The Wheatsheaf pub in Huntingdon on the thirteenth of December and been found the next day in an isolated house in a nearby village. The owners had discovered him when they returned from a holiday in Spain. Cato had picked up Frayn in a bar in Huntingdon on the seventh of December. But that mattered less than what Cato was doing on the thirteenth. He’d been at home on his own all evening. He remembered a talk at the Obs had been cancelled and he’d been pleased to have the house to himself. Now, he wasn’t so pleased. No Sam or Pedro to back up his story.Not good.
Now what? He’d have to tell the police. He didn’t know what he could add to their investigation, but there was no choice. What were the odds that he’d be in a relationship with a policeman who was investigating the murder of a guy Cato had fucked? Even if he and Vigge never saw each other again, and Cato didn’t want that, just the fact that Cato was involved as a witness meant Vigge would be taken off the case and everyone would know why. Yeah, they could say they were friends but…So should he drive to Huntingdon now? Get it over with? Would they consider him a suspect? His stomach churned. Maybe the apple hadn’t been a good idea.
Vigge wouldn’t think he was a killer, but…Oh God. Would he?Cato’s head throbbed. He picked up his pay-as-you-go and called him.
“Hi. What’s up?”
Cato exhaled shakily. “Can you talk for a minute?”
“Yep.”
“I just watched the lunchtime news. I saw the photos of the two guys who were murdered. And… I… I was with each of them not long before they were killed.”
“What the hell?” Vigge whispered.
“I was at a conference in Brighton in September. Dewitt served me dinner and after… he came to my room and…” He didn’t need to give details of what they did. “I picked Dan Frayn up in a bar in Huntingdon on the seventh of December.”
“Shit!”
“I don’t need to tell you that I didn’t kill them, do I?”
“I can’t talk to you about this. You need to come in. I’ll speak to my DCI and…”
“Tell him you’re my boyfriend?”
Vigge gave a heavy sigh.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll set off now.” Cato ended the call.
Once he’d transferred some numbers to his pay-as-you-go, he left it in his violin case at Vigge’s and took his laptop and iPhone with him. He’d already got a backup copy of his work if they wanted to keep his computer. He suspected they would. His life was tumbling down around him.
By the time he was approaching the desk in the police station in Huntingdon, Cato’s anxiety was off the scale. He was rarely nervous when he presented his work to his peers or to Alistair, his supervisor, or when he played a solo on the violin, but he could have done with a beta blocker at that moment. He didn’t want it to be the end for him and Vigge, yet something told him it probably was.
Vigge was a quiet and private sort of guy, and Cato had shoved him out of the closet because he knew Vigge wasn’t going to lie about their connection. Plus, Cato could just imagine the reaction Vigge would get for having someone like Cato for a boyfriend, a guy who sleeps around and just coincidentally slept with two murder victims.Oh Christ.
As he’d driven to Huntingdon, Cato had tried yet again to work out who could have done this because it had to be someone he knew. Maybe they weren’t setting him up for murder, just to wreck his life, though he wasn’t entirely sure he could easily prove it wasn’t him who’d killed the men. Even if he could persuade Aaron to speak out, maybe the timing was wrong. Who’d known Cato had been with those two guys? Had they been watching him? Were they watching now?
I am in such deep shit. I should have called a lawyer.His nerves were shredded.
They took him to a room with what was obviously a one-way mirror on one wall and he was told to sit at a table. Cato put his laptop bag on the floor, then sat and waited. He didn’t fidget, he didn’t move. He was paralysed in shock. He could barely believe this was happening.
The door opened and a man and woman came in.
“Hi. I’mDetective Sergeant Neil Hamilton. This isDetective Constable Eileen Crew. And you’re Cato Smith, right? Is it okay if we call you Cato?”
Cato nodded. The two sat opposite him, put down notepads, pens and folders.
“This interview is being recorded,” the DS said. “Present are Detective Sergeant Neil Hamilton.”
“Detective Constable Eileen Crew.”
“And?” The DS looked at Cato.
“Cato Smith.”This is very formal.
The DS gave the time and the date, then said, “It’s your right to have legal advice if you want it.”
“But I’ve just come in to help you with your enquiries. You didn’t even ask me to come. I’m not being arrested, am I? I can leave at any time?”Shut up, shut up, shut up.
