Murder in 1975 (Gay - Romantic Thriller)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven 

Harper was in the shower next morning when Philips heard the knock on the door. Who on earth could it be at this hour of the day? He yawned and stretched luxuriously, he felt like a sleek cat; no guilty fears today. 

"Okay," he called. "Coming." He sniggered involuntarily. Actually, that had been half an hour ago. He pushed aside the bedclothes and wrapped a dressing gown around himself. 

Inspector Martin greeted him pleasantly enough, "Good morning, sir. Hope I haven't disturbed you. Actually I'm wondering if you can tell me where Mr Harper is. I've been around to his flat but there's no one there. The superintendent wants to speak to him, rather urgently. In fact," he glanced at his watch, "he wants him in his office in about forty minutes. He's usually at his desk by now, so as I was coming past here anyway, I thought I'd try and warn ... er, tell him." He finished on a slightly apologetic note. 

"That's very good of you, Inspector," said Philips, a trifle surprised. 

He'd never thought that Martin and Harper might be friends as well as colleagues. He was about to ask for more information on the approaching interview which the Inspector had been going to warn Harper about, when Martin said in an odd voice. 

"Isn't that his jacket over there?" 

He was looking past him to where Bill's distinctive dark grey jacket lay on the sofa, along with his trousers and everything else they had been wearing, before they had tossed them there the night before. 

"Yes, it is," Philips put in smoothly, moving as unobtrusively as possible to stand between the Inspector and the pile of garments. "As a matter of fact he's here now. He came over to help me proof read my book and it got late so he stayed the night. Bill," he raised his voice, "Inspector Martin is here, and he wants to speak to you." He prayed silently that Harper would have enough self possession to follow his lead. 

Harper came out of the shower, naked except for the towel he had wrapped around his waist, thank-you-God. He was rubbing his hair vigorously with a hand towel. "What did you say love? I couldn't hear you." 

Philips felt like laughing hysterically. It was absolutely the worst thing that could have happened. Martin and Harper stood like shocked statues, staring at each other in growing dismay. The Inspector felt as if he had turned a kaleidoscope; a whole lot of individual events that hadn't made sense over the last few weeks suddenly fell into a pattern. Philips could practically see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes going from the pile of clothes, to the sofa which clearly had not been slept on to the two nearly naked men. 

"Careful, Bill," said Philips, his brain desperately seeking a way out. "You'll give the Inspector the wrong idea." He managed a normal sounding laugh and moved forward between them to break the spell. "Can I get you a cup of tea, Inspector, while Bill gets dressed?" 

Martin stared at him as if he'd been offered a cup of hot blood, while Harper went to get into his cloak. "I...uh...I - no thanks." 

Philips gathered up the clothes from the sofa, gave the bundle to Harper and pushed him gently from the room. "Go and get dressed." He turned back to Martin. "Were you going to say something?" 

"Are you and he ... are you ...?" he was too incredulous to put his thoughts into words. 

"Not as far as I know," replied Philips dryly. 

"He called you..." 

"Yes I know. He likes to rile me up. I keep telling him to cut it out; one of these days someone will take him seriously!" 

Martin looked at him thoughtfully, far from convinced. Harper hadn't given him the impression he was joking at all. "It's still illegal here you know," he rapped out exploringly. 

"What is, Inspector? Slander? You know I would hate to have to charge someone with slander, particularly after my arrest and ... er ... recapture. Jury might think it was a lot like persecution, mightn't they?" He smiled mockingly at Martin, deliberately drawing attention to himself and away from Harper. 

"Are you threatening me?" His eyes had narrowed. 

"Of course not; I'm just telling you what will happen if I hear one word of your suspicions outside this room. I will jump on you so hard you won't know what hit you. But I'm sure I don't need to say anything else. Naturally, you're not the sort of man to start malicious gossip." 

The Inspector's eyes narrowed again, this time with comprehension. Philips was protecting Harper, of course. He was the one such a rumour would damage, particularly now when he was being considered for promotion. Philips would just smile and laugh it off. 

Harper came out then, neatly dressed and obviously in tight control of himself. Back safely towards Martin, Philips allowed his face to light up with affection for him. Martin caught an instant's reflection in Harper's face and felt shut out from something warm. The impression fascinated him. 

"We can go to the office in my car if you like sir," he told Harper. "Superintendent Williams would like to see you at ten o'clock, that's about twenty five minutes." 

"Right Jack, thanks very much. 'Bye Richard." 

"Good luck." 

Martin only referred to that morning's incident once. 

"You know, I suppose, if you told the Super about you and Philips that he'd stop looking at you for the Gordon murder?" 

Harper looked at him with cold incomprehension. "I haven't the least idea what you are talking about." 

Martin shut up. Of course it wasn't simply a matter of keeping quiet for friendship's sake, he realised. Philips had been right, there was absolutely no evidence. If he mentioned his suspicions to anyone, it was likely he would be dismissed as an unpleasant gossiper whose motives stemmed from jealousy rather than from ... well, what? The desire to tell the truth ... however unnecessary, however subjective? No, it would be best to forget the whole affair. It was none of his business after all.