The Headhunters (22 page)

‘Someone must have remembered her. I expect the dig was memorable for the people who took part.’

‘Oh, you can be sure of that,’ he said with another rush of hubris. ‘Not many undergraduates get such an opportunity.’

‘You must have been quite young yourself.’

‘To be leading such a dig? Twenty-five.’

‘Admired by all those little girls in bikinis? I’m sure you were.’

Too obvious. He put up the shutters. ‘You’re straying into fantasy here, I think.’ He drew the chair back from the table. ‘I need to go now.’

‘When we first discussed this, you said Meredith was one of your team, a fresher. You were very clear about what happened.’

‘Nothing happened.’

‘Right. You said you noticed her, but that wasn’t the start of your romance. That came later. Is that still your position on this?’

‘Of course. I’d have been a total idiot to risk my career going to bed with a student. It was a no-no. Didn’t I make it clear that we linked up later, after she graduated?’

‘I believe you did.’ And Hen was forced to admit to herself that his claim rang true. This calculating man was too ambitious to have risked a scandal

In this particular contest, he’d taken some hard knocks and survived them, but Hen, too, had gone through a shaky period. Towards the end, Sentinel had recovered some punching power. Even so, he wasn’t behaving with total openness. Hen suspected strongly that he was still holding something back. She’d run out of steam and he was about to escape.

It was infuriating.

‘Gary will show you to the station.’

JO NEEDED to prove beyond doubt that somebody other than Jake had carried out the drownings. After a light salad lunch she made herself a strong espresso. Then she planned the rest of her day. First, she faced facts. Jake was the prime suspect for the murder on the beach. The police had got onto him almost from the start, influenced by his previous offence. They’d stacked up plenty of circumstantial evidence against him.

But this wasn’t an isolated killing. Fiona had been drowned in a similar way. The police had made it their job to find some link between Jake and Fiona and now they’d got it. He’d almost certainly met her at the print works. But unless they knew something that hadn’t yet come out, they were still some way from proving he’d murdered her.

Jo had an alternative theory. If you took the killing of Fiona in isolation there was an obvious suspect in Cartwright, her boss and the man she was last seen with. Fiona had set out to seduce him and succeeded, but only up to a point. Obviously she’d told Cartwright her terms: a top job and maybe even a seat on the board. He’d seen that he’d been set up and must have got angry. She’d died and he’d disappeared. Surely the police must have deduced this much?

The next, more difficult, step was to see if Cartwright could have murdered Meredith as well. Was he one of those unassuming men who live quiet, ordered lives and turn out to be sociopaths? Was the drowning on Selsey beach a trial run for Fiona’s murder? Or was there a connection with Meredith that no one had yet discovered?

She needed to know more about Cartwright and it was obvious who to ask.

Time to mend fences.

She called the print works and got through to Gemma. The first contact was terse and untypical, but was bound to be after the hard words they’d exchanged the evening before. ‘Thanks for that message you left about Jake. I’m sorry to say he got arrested again.’

‘Poor old darling,’ Gemma said, trying her best and not quite getting there. ‘I saw it coming. We had the plod here on the case at the crack of dawn. They took a copy of the list of clients and it was as certain as death and taxes they’d discover Jake had been here in August and must have met Fiona. Sweetie, you must be gutted.’

‘I’m sure he’s innocent.’

‘Goes without saying,’

‘I’ve got to help him, Gem.’

‘I’m with you on that—but what can anyone do if the police have got him?’

‘I’ve got some ideas. Will you help me?’

‘How?’

‘I’d like to come out and see you?’

‘Aren’t you at work?’

‘I took the day off.’

‘Shoot right over, then. You’re not interrupting much. I’ve been doing my toenails.’

THE LAST time she’d come to Kleentext, it was at Gemma’s request. This was so different.

They embraced in a token way.

‘I was still in shock last night,’ Jo said. ‘I’m sorry about some of the things I said.’

‘And I was out of order, forcing my way in like that,’ Gemma told her. ‘Pax? Put it there.’ She held up her hand for a high five that Jo was pleased to complete. ‘So what are we going to do to help Jake?’

‘Basically, find out who really did the drownings.’

‘Okay.’

‘And your boss is the main contender.’

‘Wow! Tell me more.’ Gemma gestured to Jo to sit down while she perched herself on her desk not a yard away.

After Jo had laid out her theory she added, ‘So you see, I’ve got to find a link to the drowning on the beach. There’s no question that this was a double killing. This is where I need your help.’

‘And you’ll get it if I can think of a damned thing,’ Gemma said. ‘At this moment I can’t. It’s not as if the dead woman was one of our clients.’

‘It won’t be as obvious as that,’ Jo said. ‘How much do you know about Mr Cartwright’s life outside here?’

‘Only bits. The divorce happened yonks ago, so I doubt if that has any bearing. He lived at Apuldram and grew roses. Sometimes came in with a rosebud in his buttonhole. He fancied himself as a fashion object, I think, what with the dicky-bows and the brothel creepers. He was way off track.’

‘Was he bitter to women?’

‘Because of the divorce? I don’t think so. Not that you’d notice, anyway. He acted the gent, smiled and put on the charm, like I told you. Mind, when you visit a house you don’t ask to see the cesspit.’

‘Did he go to university?’

‘Never mentioned it.’ Gemma raised a finger. ‘Ah, you’re thinking they could have met as students. Well, I doubt it. I always thought Cartwright left school early to join the printing trade and worked his way up the ladder. Give him his due, he knew every bit of the biz.’

‘How about the marriage? Did he talk about that?’

‘Not to me, poppet. I’m sorry. I’m not being helpful. How would the marriage make a difference anyway?’

‘If his ex was a friend of Meredith.’

‘I see.’ But there wasn’t much enthusiasm in the way Gemma spoke. She hesitated and then said with a tentative smile, ‘Jo, are we in danger of clutching at straws?’

Jo nodded. It was fair comment. ‘The thing is, I never met the man and you only knew him as your boss. There’s a lot more of his life we know nothing about. Did he keep any personal items in the office?’

‘Sorry to disappoint. The police took all his stuff away last week. The drawers of his desk, files, a couple of photos, even the calendar off the wall. They had the hard disk out of his computer. Go in and look if you like, but I don’t think you’ll find anything.’

Jo sighed. This had been the key part of her plan.

‘At least it shows they’re not ignoring him,’ Gemma added.

‘Do you think they searched his house as well?’

‘It would make sense, wouldn’t it?’

‘Did they say anything about a search?’

‘To me?’ Gemma shook her head.

There was a moment of silence while each of them wrestled with her conscience. Then Jo said, ‘Are you up for it?’

‘If you are.’

APULDRAM WAS an ancient shrunken hamlet a ten-minute drive away, fringing the Fishbourne Channel immediately south of Chichester in an undeveloped area designated as of outstanding scenic interest. The A27 bypass had effectively cut it off from the city. Known for its rose garden and the Crown and Anchor Inn at Dell Quay, it was not a bad place to have a pad, as Gemma remarked.

Jo had always believed in being open with her friends and she wanted to clear the air with Gemma, so as soon as they drove off, she said, ‘I’d better tell you, Gem. I’ve thought about Rick’s story and I’ve got serious doubts.’

Gemma said in a subdued voice, ‘Go on.’

‘Well, I wonder if he said he’d killed Mr Cartwright just to impress you, almost as an extension of the joking we did about it. The thing is, Rick is serious-minded and when he says something it doesn’t come out as wacky. He doesn’t do wacky.’

‘That’s for sure,’ Gemma said.

‘So I can’t help thinking he got himself into a situation he couldn’t find a way out of. He made this claim in such a serious way that you believed him—and so did I when he repeated it to me—and he couldn’t go back and say it was all made up.’

‘You mean because I had sex with him?’

‘Well . . . yes.’

‘I told you how it happened, and it was true,’ Gemma said. ‘It blew my mind when he said he’d murdered Cartwright for real. All the talk about totalling him had been meant in fun, like you’re saying. I was really scared, and I felt responsible. He’d never have done it without me opening my big mouth. So when he said the next bit, about doing the perfect murder and making every trace disappear, I can’t describe the weight that was lifted from me. Okay, it was still a nightmare, but we’d got away with it. So we shagged like the only two bunnies who made it across the motorway, and that’s the truth of it.’

‘Do you see where I’m coming from?’ Jo said. ‘It was your first time with Rick, right? It was a big deal for him.’

‘Better be.’ Gemma laughed, and it cleared the air a little.

‘And then—being Rick—he can’t tell you it was all made up.’

‘Really?’ Gemma scraped her fingers through her hair and pulled some across her mouth.

‘In his eyes, he’s conned you. He didn’t mean to, but that’s how it worked out. So he can’t bring himself to tell you none of it was true because he’s afraid you’ll slap his face and tell him to get the hell out of your life.’

‘Which I might.’

‘The thing is, Cartwright vanished, and as long as he stays vanished, Rick can stick to his story. Mind he’s not exactly shouting it from the rooftops. He didn’t want me to know until you pushed him to tell me.’

‘So I did. . . .’ She was shaking her head. ‘Poor guy. I never thought. Jo, you’re brilliant. A mind-reader. I’m sure you’re right. It never happened and I feel so much better.’

Inside herself Jo knew she shouldn’t really take the credit. Jake had unravelled Rick’s lie, but there were times in life when silence was the right option.

Gemma started singing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,’ and Jo joined in until they ran out of lines they remembered.

‘There’s only one thing,’ Gemma said finally.

‘What’s that?’

‘Whatever happened to Mr Cartwright?’

nineteen

‘WHAT ’ S YOUR TAKE ON Dr Sentinel?’ Hen asked Gary when he got back to the police station.

‘Shifty as a shithouse rat, guv.’

She smiled. ‘You don’t have to hold back. Anything in particular?’

‘What stood out is the way he talked about his wife. The first time we met him he didn’t give a hint she was playing around. I mean, you asked him if the marriage was in difficulty and he practically took a swipe at you.’

‘Stay with the facts, Gary. He said my question was in appalling bad taste. We’ve got it on tape.’

‘Yes, and today he says she’d shag anything that moved. Sorry, that’s over the top again. I can’t stand the guy.’

‘That’s beginning to come through.’

‘He’s a bilge-artist, guv. If he was really any use in his job he’d be a professor by now, not a bloody lecturer. On the telly I’ve seen professors half his age.’

‘Concentrate on the case. Did anything in his statements strike a false note?’

‘He did his best to cover up the mistress in Helsinki.’

‘True.’ Hen took the card from her pocket and reminded herself of the name. ‘Or was that all a bluff?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I wonder if he steered us down that line of questioning.’

Gary frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Maybe Outi doesn’t exist.’

His eyes gleamed like new coins. ‘If she doesn’t, he’s got about nineteen days to account for.’

‘Nineteen days when he could have been back in England murdering his wife and the other woman. We checked if he flew from St Petersburg to London and drew a blank. We’d better see if he went by way of Helsinki, or any other airport in the region. It’s feasible.’

‘Mightn’t it be quicker to check whether Outi is a real person?’

‘The Finn fatale? Yes, you can do that.’

‘Do I get a trip to Helsinki?’

‘On the budget we’re given? You’re an optimist. A phonecall, Gary. A phonecall to the Helsinki police. Now I must see how Stella’s been getting on with the tree-hugger. First I owe myself a smoke.’

She found Stella at her desk in the incident room and learned that Jake was not co-operating. ‘He’s still in a strop about the helicopter.’

‘At least he’s saying something.’

‘A silent strop.’

‘He’s right to be angry,’ Hen said in a rare tone of regret. ‘I wish I hadn’t used the thing. It was the dogs that found him, not the chopper.’

‘You weren’t to know that, guv.’

‘But, Stell, I’ve got a conscience, too. I care about the world we’re destroying and polluting. I hate to think of the rainforest being chainsawed by loggers. I’ve got my own orangutan I sponsor. And then at the first opportunity of a ride in a bloody helicopter I’m there, causing havoc and destruction in a nature reserve. I should be ashamed and I am.’

‘I don’t suppose you did too much damage.’

‘Where is he now—in the cells?’

‘Interview Room Two.’

‘Well, I’m choked about what happened, but let’s see if I can get one bird to sing again, eh?’

Jake had slumped in the chair and appeared to be asleep when the two detectives went in.

Hen leaned across the table and touched his arm.

His eyes opened, saw her and glowered.

‘If you think I’m going to apologise for this morning,’ she began, and then paused before adding, ‘you’re right. I should have thought about the damage a noisy whirlwind of a machine can do to habitats. My decision, my mistake. Without it we’d have taken longer to pull you in, but that’s the way I should have gone about it. I was out of order and I’m sorry.’

He remained silent, but the expression in his eyes changed from hostility to suspicion to surprise.

‘Like you, I have to work for a living,’ Hen carried on, ‘and I hope you can respect that, just as I respect you for standing up and telling me what a barbarian I am.’ She let that sink in before saying, ‘You know why we arrested you. More questions. But this is another chance for you to get a word in. Or two. Or three.’

He didn’t appreciate the attempt to humour him. She nodded to Stella to start the tape and speak the official preamble.

When it was done, Hen spread her hands and said, ‘We know who you are and by now I reckon you know us, but the stupid tape machine can’t remember squat.’

Still no reaction.

She sat back in her chair and studied his face for some time before saying, ‘It was plucky of your friend Jo to sit in the inflatable wearing your jacket and hood. Comical, too. I was in the helicopter and she fooled me. I felt sure it was you. At the time I was all for taking the chopper down to about thirty feet, churning up the water and tipping it over. Big guy like you wouldn’t be in trouble, I thought. It can’t be deep out there. Good thing the pilot didn’t approve. We don’t know if Jo can swim.’

He still wasn’t tempted to comment, so Hen continued, ‘Another drowning wouldn’t have been good for my reputation. As I was saying, she’s a good ally of yours, that young woman. She didn’t pick you out in the ID the other day, and even today she insisted you weren’t one of the men she saw at Selsey.’

Jake appeared unmoved. Certainly his lips didn’t move.

Hen was not discouraged. ‘But it turns out that you two are friends, close friends, according to her, and now you have a chance to help her out. We’re not going to charge her with wasting police time this morning, but misleading us over the ID parade is a lot more serious. As you know, the parade wasn’t controlled by me, or by CID. By law it had to be overseen by a uniform branch inspector. A word from me to him could result in a serious charge for Miss Jo Stevens.’

The bird was persuaded to sing at last. ‘She didn’t mislead anyone.’

‘But she’s a friend of yours.’

‘She told the truth,’ Jake said. ‘She didn’t see me that morning. I was on the beach, yes, but she didn’t see me.’

‘What were you doing there?’

‘Walking.’

‘And did you see Meredith Sentinel, the woman who was drowned?’

‘No.’

‘You’re certain of that?’

‘I would have told you.’

If nothing else, the responses were coming now. Hen rested her elbows on the table and supported her chin with her cupped hands. ‘I’m going to ask you again, Jake: What were you doing there?’

‘Thought I might meet Jo. I didn’t.’

‘Let me get this right. You knew she was going to be there that morning?’

‘She told me she likes to walk there early on a Sunday.’

‘What was this—a date?’

He shook his head. ‘We weren’t dating.’

Hen glanced towards Stella. ‘Sounds to me as if the possibility crossed the young lady’s mind.’

‘We only met the evening before,’ Jake said.

‘Where?’

‘Chichester Gate.’

She was intrigued to know how. She couldn’t believe he had a chat-up line. But to ask would have brought the interchange to a juddering halt. ‘How did it come about? Were you alone there?’

‘With friends.’

‘Ah.’ This linked up with something she’d learned before. ‘Was this the evening you started with Gemma and ended with Jo?’

‘Er, yes.’ He plucked at an ear lobe. ‘Gemma wasn’t my girlfriend,’ he said, impelled to add something. ‘We went bowling, that’s all, and met up with the others.’

‘Others?’

‘Jo and Rick.’

‘And who’s Rick?’

‘A guy playing bowls with Jo.’

‘Was anyone else in the party?’

‘No.’

‘A foursome, then.’

‘It didn’t start like that.’

‘How did it end, Jake? You teamed up with Jo, right? Did Rick and Gemma pair off as well?’

‘No. Rick and Jo left in a taxi. He wasn’t feeling well, so she made sure he got home.’

‘Was he hammered, then?’

A shake of the head. ‘There wasn’t much drinking done. We saw a film.’

With communication working as well as it was ever likely to, she switched to the matter that interested her most. ‘You first met Gemma at her workplace. Kleentext, the printers, am I right?’

He nodded.

‘Tell me about it, Jake.’

‘Not much to tell. The council said we could get some Christmas cards printed from a photo. I was sent to arrange it.’

‘You made a number of visits there. Four, I believe.’

He gave her a dark look. ‘All connected with the cards.’

‘I’m sure. But it was through this contact that you persuaded Gemma to go bowling with you?’

‘You seem to know all about it.’

‘I’ve already spoken to Gemma. Now I’m getting your side of it. Did you also meet Fiona Halliday, the other woman who drowned?’

‘Don’t know.’

Stella opened the folder in front of her and took out a photo and pushed it across for Jake to inspect.

He took a look. ‘She was around, yes.’

‘Around? Didn’t you speak?’

‘Nothing much,’ he said.

‘But words were spoken? Come on, Jake. You can do better than this.’

‘I was in the office one time and she came through. She asked if I was being looked after. I said I was.’

‘That was all?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you see her on any other occasion?’

‘No.’

‘At the printers, or anywhere else?’

‘No.’

‘You understand why I’m asking? You’re the only person we know who met both women who were murdered. Can that be coincidence or is there something that hasn’t come out yet?’

He moved his shoulders a fraction.

‘Are you sure you didn’t meet Fiona some other time? A chance encounter when you suddenly remembered she was the young woman who spoke to you at the printer’s?’

He shook his head. He was reverting to his silent mode. Some new line of questioning had to be introduced.

‘Do you swim, Jake?’

Another suspicious look. ‘I can.’

‘Where? In the sea?’

‘Mostly.’

‘This year?’

‘A few times.’

‘When’s the best time? Not when the beach is crowded, I expect.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Late in the evening? Early morning?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what, Jake? The tide?’

‘How I feel.’

‘You’re looking at me as if I’m trying to lasso you. It’s no big deal, going for a swim in the sea. I reckon at the end of a day’s work in the sun in August or September you must welcome a chance to cool off. You live a short walk from the beach, so why not?’ She realised as she spoke that this wasn’t a productive question, so she followed it with another. ‘When did you last have a dip?’

‘Two or three weeks ago.’

‘You know what I’m going to ask now. Were you alone?’

‘Yes.’ He put his hand to his mouth and yawned. ‘You’re wasting your time with me.’

DENIS CARTWRIGHT’S house in Apuldram stood in its own grounds at the end of a lane. Brick built and faced with the local flint and mortar, it was not large, but had a fine position overlooking the inlet known as Fishbourne Channel—a property that spoke of a comfortable income.

Gemma parked on the gravel drive. ‘What now?’

Tension was clumping in Jo’s ears. ‘We look around.’

The front door had been forced and secured again with a padlock. A printed notice from the police stated that anyone with reason to enter should contact them.

‘We’re a long way behind the fuzz,’ Gemma said.

‘And we’ve got to catch up,’ Jo said. ‘No, I mean overtake.’

Being isolated, the house was easy to walk around without being seen. The paintwork was well cared-for, the climbing rose trimmed, the paths swept. They looked through all the windows they could. The interior looked nicely furnished. At the rear was a rose garden with a patio overlooking a swimming pool already covered for the winter.

‘I see there’s an alarm system,’ Gemma said. ‘Do you think it’s working?’

‘I expect the police disabled it.’

‘Do you think they turned it on again?’

‘Probably not, going by the way they padlocked the front door,’ Jo said, chancing her arm. ‘A bit rough and ready, wasn’t it?’

Without actually discussing their next move, they looked to see if by chance a window had been left open. But Cartwright was a careful owner.

‘Now that the police have been inside and seen what they want, they won’t be in a hurry to come back,’ Jo said, trying to sound confident. She was supposed to be the leader of this expedition.

‘Probably not. What exactly do you expect to find?’

‘I don’t know exactly. Something they haven’t noticed, I suppose.’

‘Proving he’s the murderer?’

‘Well, yes.’

Doubt had crept into Gemma’s eyes, but she continued to play along. ‘Shall we check the garden shed? That may not be locked.’

‘I bet it is, but we can try.’ Jo sensed that this was a delaying move from Gemma, dubious about a break-in to the house itself.

The lock on the shed had been forced recently and reattached so loosely that the hasp came away as soon as Jo touched it. The police must have looked inside.

There was a motor mower and some garden tools. Loungers, a sunshade, and some patio furniture.

‘What’s that hanging on the wall? Looks like a life-jacket,’ Gemma said.

‘Dusty,’ Jo said. ‘Hasn’t been used for some time.’

‘Well, he’s not going to offer one to the women he drowns.’

They giggled a bit and it eased the tension.

‘Living here so close to the harbour it’s quite likely he has a boat,’ Jo said. ‘You said the other day he could be living on the Costa del Crime, and it’s not impossible. Looking around, I get the feeling he’s closed the place down and gone.’

‘Sailed off into the sunset?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Smart move.’

‘Exactly,’ Jo said. ‘If I was on the run from the police I’d use a boat if I could. You’re more likely to get caught if you go by any other form of transport.’

‘Well, have we done the shed?’ Gemma asked.

Jo unhooked a wooden mallet from the tools hanging on the wall. ‘We’re going to need this.’

They closed the door and reattached the lock.

Law-abiding people have to be pushed past endurance to break with a lifetime of conformity. Jo couldn’t get out of her mind the sight of Jake being led away in handcuffs to the police cars. She knew he wouldn’t be treated fairly with his prison record. He was mentally scarred already. They’d reduce him to despair and he’d be broken, willing to sign anything they put in front of him.