Down Among the Dead Men (25 page)

“He's been dead more than a hundred and fifty years.”

Diamond managed a daft grin. “He wrote horror, didn't he? I wouldn't rule it out, would you?”

Tom didn't get it.

“Seriously,” Diamond said, “is it on?”

Tom tugged at his mane of dark hair. “We'd need to look at the logistics. I don't know how well she lashed the pots together.”

“I couldn't help noticing commercial vehicles have been using the track across the lawn that passes quite close to the lake.”

“That's my dad's horticulture business. He'd let us use the van for sure. It's just a question of whether the House of Usher would survive the trip.” He reached a decision. “Why not? If Ella's willing to risk it, we'll try.”

“She'll be thrilled,” Diamond said and moved smoothly into more contentious territory. “She was nervous about asking you herself in view of what happened at the party.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tom's whole physique tensed.

“It's more a matter of what Ella meant by it. She told me she took an Ecstasy tablet and it went to her head and you helped her to the house. She doesn't have much memory of what happened after.”

“If you think it was anything inappropriate . . .”

“Did I say so?”

Tom spaced each word of his response. “She spent the night on a sofa. In the morning I drove her home, or near to home. Nothing improper happened. To be frank, I was bloody annoyed with her for gate-crashing the party and even more pissed off that she took the drug.”

“You didn't tell me any of this at the school yesterday.”

“I wasn't going to volunteer it, was I? I could lose my job.”

“Did you know she was texting her friends, including Mel?”

“I saw she had the phone with her. I took it away when I knew she was spaced out, but I gave it back next morning.”

“One of the messages she sent was about Miss Gibbon, their former art teacher.”

“Okay,” Tom said, but his expression didn't say okay. He looked like death.

“It said, in effect, that Miss Gibbon was one of your Saturday group.”

“She was. She left.”

“Something else you didn't volunteer. So was that how you learned there was a vacancy for an art teacher at Priory Park?”

He nodded. “Jobs are hard to come by. They needed someone at short notice. I put in my application before they advertised the post.”

“Did you find out why she resigned?”

“I heard there was a row with the head.”

“About her teaching?”

He shrugged. “Things like that are kept confidential.”

“But they leak out.”

“I don't know anything for certain.”

“Put it this way: were you asked to take a more relaxed approach than Miss Gibbon?”

“That's my style. I am relaxed,”—he tried to show it with a twitchy smile—“except when the police are grilling me.”

“Did you find out what Miss Gibbon was planning to do after she resigned?”

“I don't think anyone knew, except possibly Miss Du Barry.”

“And you haven't heard from her?”

“From Connie Gibbon? Why should I?”

“As one of your Saturday artists.”

“She wasn't the sort to send a postcard, if that's what you're thinking.”

“I'll tell you what I'm thinking, Tom. It's about Mel. She was troubled about the way Miss Gibbon left the school and even more troubled that she became a missing person. The others weren't particularly bothered, but it became a personal issue for Mel. She even called at the police station in Chichester to get the latest information.”

A pause.

Tom said, “I didn't know that.”

“It's likely Ella's text about Miss Gibbon was the trigger for Mel leaving her house. To the girls, it was new information. They didn't know their former teacher was in your art group. Mel, who I said was eager to know more of what really happened, must have thought she would get answers at your party, from you or the other artists.”

“She was wrong about that. I couldn't tell her anything and I don't think anyone else could.”

“Mel didn't know that.”

“She didn't come here. Ask anyone.”

“There was a sighting of someone on a scooter a short distance from here.”

“I know, and that's why you lot want to search the place, but I don't expect you to find anything. They're looking at the lake. Why would she go anywhere near the lake? The party was going on here, not down by the lake.”

“What time did it finish?”

“Not all that late. It wasn't an all-night rave. Most of these people are middle-aged. We packed up by midnight.”

“Another question: back in 2007, a man from Slindon, a gardener by the name of Joe Rigden, was murdered. He worked on a garden not far from here, a place called Holly Blue Cottage. I'm wondering if he did any work for your father. You were living here then, weren't you?”

“I was born here. But you'll have to ask my dad about Rigden. If he ever came here, I didn't meet him.”

“Where can I find your dad?”

“Right now? Over at the house. He'll be clearing up the kitchen.”

Diamond was halfway across the yard when his phone went. He tugged it out and put it to his ear.

“Peter?” The voice was Georgina's.

“Speaking.”

“I need you here at the lake—fast.”

“Have they found something?”

“Get here as soon as you can.”

26

H
is legs were starting to feel as if they didn't belong to him, but the steep descent helped him run the final stretch to the wooded area where the van was parked.

Already the dive team had a small inflatable on the lake. The sergeant driver he'd spoken to earlier was alone on the bank, smoking. Georgina wasn't in view.

Strong as he told himself he was from his rugby-playing days, he had to take several gulps of air before saying, “Seen my boss?”

The cigarette was taken from between the lips and put to use as a pointer. “She spotted someone and went after them.”

Georgina in pursuit?

“Did you get a sight?”

A shake of the head.

“Could it be one of your people?”

“They're all here. I was told to give you a message.” The driver took another long drag.

“Tell me, for Christ's sake.”

“She said go the other way round and head them off.”

Suddenly the lake looked ten times as large it had before. And the superfit legs were stiffening up. There wasn't much more running in them. “I've got a better idea. You go instead.”

A slow shake of the head. “It may not look like it, but I'm on duty here.”

“No problem.” Diamond pulled rank. The man was only a sergeant. “I'll take over.”

“With respect, sir, it has to be someone who's done the course. Dive team protocol.”

Strongly tempted to tell the sergeant what to do with his dive team protocol, he took out his phone.

At first he thought Georgina wasn't going to take the call.

“You took your time.” There was a pause for breath. She was obviously jogging or at least striding out as she spoke. “Did you get my instruction?” Pause. “I'm almost at the opposite side now.” Pause. “Can you see me?”

He shielded his eyes and stared across the water. “From where I am, no, ma'am.”

“You can't be looking in the right direction.”

“I think I see you now.” There was a speck of blue moving steadily in a clockwise direction along the path on the far side. The colour showed up well against the red bricks of the boundary wall. He assumed it was Georgina. Deplorably for a detective, he couldn't recall the clothes she was wearing.

“Don't hang about, then. Go to your right, round the other side,” she told him in short bursts of words. “We'll catch them in a pincer movement. But hurry.”

Them? “More than one?”

“Just the one. I don't know if they're male or female. I'm not even certain what colour they're wearing.”

You and me both, Georgie, he thought, as he forced his aching legs into action again. The boss was right. This had to be done. This person needed to be identified. Presumably it was the same individual he'd spotted before lunch going in the other direction.

The path was an obstacle course. There was a choice between thick mud at the water's edge and exposed roots on the more solid ground. He was in danger of tripping every yard of the way. With eyes down for safety's sake, he noticed the occasional footprint, but didn't celebrate it as a Man Friday discovery. The owner and his guests no doubt took an occasional walk here.

Cursing every few seconds, Diamond picked his way through the mud at the best speed he could. His head ached and his throat was dry.

So who could the lone walker be? All the artists were at work in the studio and Ferdie was in the house clearing up after the meal. There shouldn't have been anyone at large on the estate.

He forced himself forward, wishing he were fitter. If Georgina could keep going, so would he. But it was damned hard work.

Ten minutes in, he was startled by the shriek of a moorhen and saw it take flight from the reeds beside the bank and skim across the water. Something must have disturbed it.

He froze.

Then a twig snapped.

Someone was definitely coming towards him.

He stepped behind a tree.

Now he could hear dog-like panting and it wasn't his own. This person wasn't in condition.

No need to tackle them physically, he decided. It was reasonable to have a few civilised words with someone you met out walking in the country. He waited for them to draw level.

As they did, he had a sense of solid physique, shorter than himself. But a woman. Definitely a woman. At the moment he stepped into view, she made a sound like a train going through a station.

His “Good afternoon”—completely inaudible—came out feebly in the instant he realised who she was.

Georgina.

“You?” she said with disgust.

“I thought you were—”

“You could have given me a heart attack, leaping out like that.”

He hadn't leapt. He'd appeared unexpectedly, that was all, but there was nothing to be gained by pointing it out. All he could do was wait for Georgina to stop hyperventilating. She reached for the trunk of the tree and grasped it.

After some time she said, “Where the devil did he go? I was in pursuit. Has he passed you?”

“No chance. Was it definitely a man, then?”

“Definitely? Can't say, but that's the impression I got. I assure you I wasn't chasing a shadow.” She stepped away from the tree, closer to the water, and looked along the bank in both directions. “I can't understand it.”

“Did he know you were following?”

“Unlikely. I was never that close. Are you certain he didn't get past without you noticing?”

“Not if he kept to the path.”

“There's no rule that says he should,” Georgina said. “He must have gone off at a tangent, turned away from the lake and made a getaway through the wood.”

“Seems so,” he said, ready to admit defeat.

But Georgina wasn't. She had that implacable look he knew from Bath Central whenever she demanded to see his budget report. “He wouldn't get far on this side. There's a nine-foot wall. He's in the area still. He must be.” She turned away from the lake and started striding through the wood, with Diamond following. “I've ruined a good pair of shoes. I'll be damned if it's all for nothing.”

They hadn't gone more than a few steps before a patch of red brick showed ahead in the autumn sunshine. “You see?” Georgina said. “There's a wall. There's no escape. He's got to be here somewhere.”

It was the boundary wall marking the limit of the estate.

“Shall we split up again?”

“No,” she said. “We stay together now.” Already she was marching off to the left, following the course of the wall. The ground here was soft and moist, but the grass wasn't so thick. Brown-capped fungi sprouted in profusion.

“Mind you don't slip,” he said. “I came a cropper this morning.”

She didn't answer. She had more on her mind than slippery mushrooms.

“Ha!” she said when they'd gone another two minutes. “We might have guessed.” They had come to a wooden door set into the wall. “This has got to be the way our elusive friend went.”

“Is it bolted?”

She tried the handle and the door opened.

They both went through and found themselves in an overgrown, neglected garden. Waist-high grass the colour of hay. Looping brambles. A roof in the distance covered in moss and with a number of tiles missing.

“Familiar?” Diamond said.

“Not to me.”

“You didn't come this far in. It's Mrs. Shah's garden.” He was sure of it. He forced his way forward a few steps and spotted the top of the trellis and the garden shed.

“Holly Blue Cottage?” Georgina said, as if they'd landed on the moon.

“How dumb is that?” he said. “I knew both places were in this area, but I didn't appreciate they were either side of the same wall.”

“Didn't you notice that door in the wall this morning?”

He shook his head. “There wasn't much time and I was more interested in what was in the shed. Shows how easily you can miss things.”

Georgina looked right and left across the tall grass. “Where's our fugitive, then? If he came in the way we did, he can't have gone far. I'm no Indian scout, but hasn't someone forced his way through this?”

She was right. Some of the long stalks were bent and broken—and it wasn't the track Diamond himself had made earlier in the day.

He went ahead. Not that he was any more of a scout than Georgina, but it was pretty obvious where they were heading. The garden shed.

The lone walker could be inside.

They reached the mould-scarred building, stood for a second in front and exchanged glances, saying nothing. Then Diamond kicked the door. It swung inwards and revealed Hen Mallin, seated in the chair, holding a cigarillo to her lips.

“Manners,” she said. “Always knock before entering.”

For once even Diamond was lost for words. Not for one moment had he thought they'd been pursuing his old colleague.

Georgina was already in a foul mood. These two would never hit it off, but she couldn't be blamed for the fury she put into the word, “You?”

Hen shrugged.

“Just what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Hen said. She reached down and picked up a transparent bag containing a few fresh mushrooms. “Resting my limbs after a forage around the lake . . . ma'am. It's the mushroom season, in case you hadn't noticed, but I'll be checking my Observer book of fungi before I sample them. You can't be too careful with these little varmints.”

“You're under suspension.”

“Not under house arrest. No one said I can't go out.”

“This is private land. You're trespassing.”

“Aren't we all?”

Georgina had all the fire power, but was coming off the worse. “Here—of all places—where there's an investigation going on. You were instructed to stop doing police work of any description.”

“I have,” Hen said. “I'm collecting mushrooms. Haven't interfered. Haven't spoken to a soul. I'm not obstructing you in your duties.”

“There's a major alert, a child gone missing. We should be hunting for her, not you.”

Diamond agreed with that. Much as he admired Hen, this had been a fools' errand. All their efforts should have been geared to finding Mel.

“Your choice,” Hen said. “There was no need.”

“We know that now,” Georgina said. “What possessed you to come here?”

“Family loyalty,” Hen said. “It's no secret that the investigation has shifted here. All your interest has shifted to the missing schoolgirl, but I'm still worried sick about Joss. Are they diving for bodies in the lake?”

“We're not discussing the case with you.”

“As you wish,” Hen said. “I'll shut up, then.”

Georgina may have taken this as a small victory, but Diamond didn't. He'd noticed a gleam in Hen's eyes suggesting she'd been on the point of sharing something. For the present, he didn't take it up. Georgina was calling the shots.

“You'd better leave,” she told Hen. “Did you come by car?”

“It's in the lane in front of the cottage. I wasn't going to park it in front of Fortiman House.”

“So you knew about this place?”

“Came here when I was on the Joe Rigden murder, didn't I?” She reached for a flower pot and flicked ash into it. “I'll be on my way, then. Leave you serving officers to get on with your vital work.”

They had to step out of the shed to make room. Holding her mushrooms in front of her like a trophy, Hen stepped outside and waded through the long grass without looking back, but with a definite swagger, a small, defiant figure in no way contrite.

“I've lost all sympathy,” Georgina said to Diamond.

He was under the impression she hadn't any to lose, but didn't say so. “We've solved the mystery of the solitary walker.”

“But at what cost?” she said. “You're a physical wreck. I feel like a scarecrow. We're senior officers. It's degrading.”

“We found the connecting door. That's progress.”

Georgina wasn't consoled. “I've had enough. I shall tell Commander Hahn we've gone beyond the call of duty to examine that loathsome woman's misconduct and I'm recommending her immediate dismissal. I know you're sympathetic, but in my book there's nothing to be said for her.”

He didn't take the bait. “Shall we return to the real action, then?”

“Certainly.”

“Want me to call our driver to pick us up?”

“No. We walk.”

“As you wish.”

They closed the shed and returned through the connecting door to the Fortiman estate. At once it became obvious that Georgina expected more from him on her hard-line decision. “I mean, isn't it transparently clear, Peter, that she's not fit to lead a criminal investigation department?”

“The jury's out on that one, ma'am.” He was speaking to her back as he trailed after her along the path beside the lake.

“You don't have to ‘ma'am' me now we're alone. It's beginning to sound more like a term of derision—especially the way she uses it.”

“I won't, then. If we're talking about Hen Mallin's fitness to lead, I have to speak up for her. Having seen her at work, I have a lot of respect.”

“More than she ever demonstrates.”

“That's her style. She's not employed to show respect. She was upfront and honest about what she did wrong, failing to investigate her niece. The question we should be asking is whether that disbars her from ever working again. I don't know of any other failings.”

“Oh, for God's sake! She's insubordinate.”

“Under strain—and she's under plenty at the moment. She's a good investigator, a whole lot more likely to succeed than Montacute, who is trying to do her job now.”

“That's beside the point. I don't care for him either.”

“As I said to you before, I believe Hen Mallin was suspended because she rocked the boat.”