The Headhunters (27 page)

‘Never. I don’t like swimming.’

‘But Sally must have enjoyed it. She had a pool of her own.’

‘She told me she swam before breakfast every day. She believed in keeping fit.’

‘She’d need to,’ Hen said, and added, ‘All that cooking. What I can’t get my head round is why she’d go to an outdoor pool in October when she was used to swimming indoors and at home. Any suggestions?’

‘Cartwright must be alive.’

‘Did Sally know Cartwright?’

‘I couldn’t tell you.’

‘She didn’t ever mention him?’

‘She wouldn’t, would she?’

Watching for his reaction, Hen said, ‘Are you suggesting she was promiscuous?’

He shifted in his chair. ‘I’m not saying anything else without my solicitor being present.’

‘Good thinking,’ Hen said, untroubled. ‘Let’s all go back to the nick and do this properly in an interview room.’

AFTER HER disturbed night, Jo woke later than usual. The phone by the bed was going. She snatched it up, hoping to hear Jake.

The voice was male, and for a moment she was fooled into saying, ‘Sweet Jesus, I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been about you.’

The caller nervously announced himself as Adrian, her boss. ‘Have I woken you up? Sorry. You won’t have heard about the flooding. The road is under four feet of water at Singleton. There’s no way I can get in to work this morning, so I’m phoning round to see who can make it.’

Adrian lived at Midhurst, north of Singleton. Jo was south of the flooded area, and so was the garden centre. ‘I’ll try and get in.’

‘I’d be so grateful. Karen’s going to try as well. I’m not expecting customers in weather like this. My worry is that we may have flood damage ourselves. It could ruin the stock.’

‘I’ll call you if and when I get there,’ she said.

She tried Jake’s number next. No answer.

AT THE police station, Hen left Rick in a side room with his solicitor. The law’s delay was one of the few certainties in police work. She was not downhearted. More needed to be uncovered before she could make real inroads with this guy. Smart questioning uncovers the truth, but it has to be rooted in good detective work.

Still on her desk in the interview room in its transparent evidence bag was the invitation card that had lured Meredith Sentinel to her death. She picked it up and ran her fingertips across the embossed lettering. An elaborate con. No other cards had been traced and she was confident of her theory that this one was unique, an invitation to a non-existent reunion. If she could prove Rick had sent it, she’d be well armed for the next round.

But he couldn’t have sent it to a woman he didn’t know.

Was there a connection to Meredith, something yet to be discovered? Either he’d been around in 1987 and met her at the dig and fantasised about her ever since, or he’d got to know her more recently. Through his work? He belonged to various professional societies, and they would have meetings in London, where Meredith lived and worked. A chance encounter? She did some work for the World Wildlife Fund, her husband had mentioned. Was Rick involved in that in some capacity? He didn’t seem the sort.

She examined the card again. The embossed lettering hadn’t been done on a computer. This was a printer’s work.

Kleentext Print Solutions?

She called their number and asked to speak to Gemma Casey. The receptionist said she’d try. Some of the staff weren’t in because of the flooding.

Fortunately, Gemma answered, and Hen explained about the card and its importance to the case. ‘We think it likely that only one was printed. It’s nicely done on cream-coloured card with embossed lettering.’

‘Swanky. We do that kind of work, mainly as wedding stationery,’ Gemma said, ‘but I doubt if this was ours. Only one, you say? It would be uneconomic.’

‘Depends if the client was willing to stump up,’ Hen pointed out.

‘You’re talking fifty pounds minimum for one card.’

‘Understood,’ Hen said. ‘Well, maybe he had about fifty printed and destroyed all but one. They didn’t get sent out. I’m sure of that.’

‘Anyway, we’d have a record of it,’ Gemma said. ‘The proof would have come through my office and I can’t recall the wording you just read out. If you hang on, I’ll check to be certain. We keep a copy of everything.’ In under five minutes she was back. ‘No, it was definitely done by another printer. We don’t usually give out the names of our rivals, but in this case . . . ’

Hen noted them. ‘And while you’re on the line,’ she said to Gemma, ‘has your friend Rick ever spoken to you about the Selsey mammoth?’

‘The what?’

‘A mammoth was excavated in 1987.’

‘What’s it got to do with Rick?’

‘I’m wondering if he took part in the dig.’

‘All those years ago? I doubt it. I’m sure he would have boasted about it. You know what blokes are like. Jake’s the expert on things like that. He’s a fossil-hunter.’

‘True, but he wasn’t on the dig. What about you, Gemma? You were local. Did you volunteer?’

‘Me? I was only fifteen in 1987. Simon Le Bon grabbed me more than bones on a beach.’

‘Duran Duran? Didn’t they cover “Watching the Detectives” ?’

‘Hey, you’re a new romantic.’

She tried the other local printers. No one remembered taking on the work. The fancy invitation wasn’t the clincher it had promised to be. If that bloody man Sentinel had found the envelope it came in, the whole investigation might have been over by now.

THERE WAS real danger of aquaplaning in several places where the road dipped between Mid Lavant and West Dean. Jo slowed and hoped she wouldn’t stall. The A286 runs alongside the River Lavant all the way up to Singleton, and there are sections where it can easily burst its banks. Fortunately everyone seemed to be treating the conditions with respect and she covered the six miles to the garden centre without mishap.

Karen from the sales staff was the only one there.

‘Any damage?’

‘Nothing serious that I’ve noticed,’ Karen said. ‘Some leaking from the roof where the glass blew out the other day. We’ve lost a few winter pansies, and that’s about it.’

‘Have you called Adrian?’

‘Not yet. Should we?’

‘He was practically having kittens when he called me an hour ago. I’ll give him a call now.’

AT MID-MORNING, Hen called Stella for another progress report on the search at the Bosham house.

‘Like I said, we started upstairs. The main bedroom,’ Stella told her. After the Apuldram fiasco she was going to miss nothing. ‘The quilt was turned back for airing. Some of her clothes on a chair. Nightdress hanging in the bathroom. I get the impression she had a night’s sleep and got up and had a shower.’

‘Have you checked the pool area?’

‘Not properly.’

‘Do it next. According to Rick, she was in the habit of taking an early morning swim.’

‘Rick. What does he know about it?’

She updated Stella on the Sunday lunch routine.

Stella whistled and said, ‘He really had it made. Do you think he killed her?’

‘I’m taking this step by step. Have you looked for signs of a recent meal?’

‘There’s nothing obvious. If he was here, everything is cleared away. It’s extremely tidy. We’ll start our search of the kitchen shortly.’

‘Look in the fridge for the remains of a roast joint. And I expect there’s a dishwasher. See if that’s loaded. Oh, and be sure to check the rubbish, too.’

Stella wouldn’t normally need to be told. She may have felt she was being picked on for the past error. Hen wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

There was no complaint from Stella. She promised to call back shortly.

ADRIAN SAID he was ‘mightily relieved’ to know that the pansies were the only casualties. In his state of euphoria he suggested that Jo close at midday.

She passed on the good news to Karen.

‘Great,’ Karen said. ‘To tell you the truth, I found it quite eerie being alone here before you arrived. It’s weird, getting spooked by a garden centre, but I actually came out in goose pimples. I’ve never been here on my own before today. I was so pleased to hear you drive up.’

‘Yes, the place has a different feel to it,’ Jo said. ‘We haven’t even got Miss Peabody stalking us round the aisles.’

‘I can do without her,’ Karen said, grinning. ‘She lives up the road in Singleton, doesn’t she? Poor old soul, she’s probably under four feet of water.’

Singleton is the downland village where the Lavant first makes itself apparent. This sometime river (so benign in the summer months that it dries to an empty ditch) has its source in nearby East Dean. Serious flood problems affect the village in a specially wet winter because of a spring known as the Fountain, fed by another valley from the north.

Jo’s conscience stirred. ‘She’s my friend’s aunt. Maybe I should check and see if she’s all right.’

‘I expect the emergency people are doing that,’ Karen said. ‘You might get in their way.’

‘I don’t know. I think I owe it to Gemma to take a look. I could take the old lady some milk and bread from the Down Tools. They won’t be using any today. Luckily I put my wellies in the car in case I got stranded. I think it’s the first cottage you come to. We can see it from here.’

‘You can also see the flood water,’ Karen said. ‘Rather you than me.’ She laughed. ‘If you spot a pink hat floating past, you’d better give up and come back.’

STELLA WAS quick to phone back. ‘I checked the kitchen, guv. The dishwasher had been emptied. There is a large joint of beef in the fridge.’

‘Hey, that’s what I needed to know,’ Hen said.

‘Uncooked.’

‘What?’

‘Looking at the sell-by date, it’s probably still okay. It doesn’t smell off.’

‘So she
was
expecting to cook.’

‘That’s for sure. There are fresh parsnips and carrots, greens, a marrow, and a packet of runner beans.’

‘Rick told the truth about that, then. She didn’t cook his Sunday lunch. She must have gone before then. She was probably dead.’

‘I also looked at the pool area, as you asked, and there’s one of those white bathrobes made of towelling.’

‘Where?’

‘Draped over a lounger, plus a spare towel.’

‘Flip-flops?’

‘Yes. Beside the lounger.’

Hen’s thoughts were in overdrive. ‘Stella, listen carefully. Don’t touch anything else. I want the pool area taped off as a crime scene. Get the white zipsuits out to the house as soon as possible. I’m almost certain she was drowned in her own pool and moved to Apuldram.’

‘The body was moved? Why?’

‘Shift the corpse and you shift the suspicion. We assumed the killer was Cartwright. Big mistake.’

twenty-four

RICK’S SOLICITOR HAD DELAYED as long as he reasonably could and now the so-called voluntary statement was under way again.

Hen wasn’t wasting words. ‘What do you drive?’

Rick said, ‘An E Class Mercedes.’

‘On the street outside?’

‘Yes.’

‘The keys, please.’

‘Just a moment, officer,’ the lawyer said with a smile at Hen’s apparent naivety. ‘You can’t do that. My client is assisting with your enquiries. If you want the power to search his vehicle, you’ll have to arrest him.’

‘Is that the way you want to play it?’

‘Why do you need to search my car?’ Rick asked.

‘I believe Sally Frith was drowned in her own swimming pool and then transported to Apuldram and put in the pool in Mr Cartwright’s garden.’

‘And you think I did this?’ Some outrage showed in Rick’s response. Not enough for Hen’s liking.

‘If you did, there will be traces in your car. You can prove you didn’t by allowing us to make a forensic examination.’

The solicitor put a restraining hand on Rick’s arm. ‘I don’t advise it.’

‘I’ve nothing to hide,’ Rick said.

‘Let me put it this way,’ the solicitor said. ‘Impressed as I am with our estimable forensic science service and its painstaking methods, one hears of the occasional mistake being made through no one’s fault, of course, and leading to a wrongful conviction.’

‘Have it your way,’ Hen said without rising to the sarcasm. ‘Richard Graham, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything—’

‘Hang on,’ Rick interrupted, swinging to face his adviser. ‘If they do that, they can take my DNA and fingerprints and I’m on their bloody database for the rest of my life.’ He pulled the car keys from his pocket and and tossed them across the table to Hen. ‘You won’t find jack shit. Sally never even had a ride in my car.’

The solicitor said, ‘You could regret this.’

‘Get lost.’

The man was on his feet at once. ‘If that’s how you feel, Mr Graham, I’ll take you at your word. Find someone else.’

Hen groaned.

Another delay.

THE RAIN had eased, so Jo had put on her Wellington boots and was striding through the puddles. Ahead were a barrier and a sign that the road was closed to traffic. It was no mystery why this valley flooded. To her right rose the great chalk hill called the Trundle, a favourite viewpoint. Left of her, purple-grey, with low cloud obscuring the highest point, a wooded stretch of the South Downs, the most significant upland range in Sussex.

From behind her the tinny notes of Colonel Bogey sounded.

She jerked the backpack from her shoulder and fumbled among cartons of milk and packs of sandwiches, found the phone and put it to her ear.

‘Darling, is that you?’ It was her mother’s all-too-familiar strident voice.

Jo almost slung the thing into the floodwater. ‘Hi.’

‘You don’t sound like your usual self. Are you keeping dry in this dreadful weather?’

‘More or less. Can I call you back later?’

‘Your father and I have been worried out of our minds about you. What’s going on, Jo? Your name’s in the paper again.’

‘Pure bad luck, Mummy. No need to be alarmed.’

‘But this is an appalling case, by the sound of it. All these drowned women, and the man still at liberty. I don’t know how it happened, but you seem to be up to your neck in it.’

Not the happiest choice of phrase. She was already up to her shins in it.

‘Don’t trust anyone,’ Mummy ranted on. ‘You’ve got that mobile phone with you? Well, obviously you have.’

‘I’ll use it if necessary.’

‘No, I’m telling you, Jo darling, that these fancy phones are a mixed blessing. You take a call from someone and you have no way of knowing where he is. He could be lying in wait round the next corner and you think he’s speaking from miles away.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind, Mummy. Must go. ’bye.’ She switched off.

Immediately, it rang again.

Give it a rest, Mother, she thought. ‘Yes?’

‘Jo?’ This time it really was the voice she hoped to hear.

‘Jake, I thought you were someone else. I’ve been trying to reach you. Did they let you go?’

‘For now.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘They still don’t trust me.’

She sidestepped that. ‘When was this? Last night?’

‘I didn’t call you from home. They can listen in.’

She was about to point out that nothing he could say would incriminate either of them, and then thought better of it. Wouldn’t anyone feel paranoid after hours of questioning? ‘Are you at home?’

‘No, I came to work.’

‘What’s it like there after the rain?’

‘Not very different.’

God, she’d been aching to hear his voice and now they were talking banalities. ‘When can I see you, Jake? Tonight?’

A pause. ‘I’d like that. I’ll come to you.’

‘Some of the roads are impassable.’

‘Not on a bike. Did you get in to work?’

‘Yes, but we just closed the shop. I could do with your dinghy right now. I’m on a mercy mission, walking—well, wading—into Singleton to see if an old lady is all right. She’s Gemma’s aunt.’

‘Be careful.’

‘Would you mind calling Gem and telling her I’m checking on Aunt Jessica? Saves her coming out from Fishbourne.’

After the call she was so much happier that she burst into ‘
Singin’ in the Rain
.’

OUT AT Bosham, a crucial find was made. Leaving nothing to chance this time, Stella called the incident room while Hen was arranging for Rick’s car to be taken away.

‘Boss, the crime scene people are saying there’s a strong chance Sally was attacked here, in the shallow end of the pool. They picked up quite a clump of hair that was pulled out at the roots, and I’m certain it matches the colour of hers. There was also the tip of a broken fingernail.’

‘Was there? Two of her nails were damaged for sure. This could clinch it, Stell. If she was driven to Apuldram, we’re going to find traces in someone’s car. You can’t move a corpse without leaving something behind.’

‘You can clean up a car.’

‘That in itself would be suspicious. Besides, how many of our suspects have transport? Jake rides a bike. Dr Sentinel uses the train to get here. Cartwright’s car is already impounded.’

‘What about Francisco?’

‘He’s out of the reckoning.’

‘That leaves Rick.’

The logistics interested Hen more at this moment. ‘I’m thinking about how it was done. Actually,
when
it was done.’

‘Is that important?’

‘The contents of the fridge—the meat and fresh veg you told me about—suggest she was killed before she could prepare the lunch. I think she got out of bed Sunday morning, put on her swimsuit and bathrobe, and went downstairs to the pool for her morning swim. The killer was waiting there.’

‘Rick. The bastard. I know you don’t want to finger anyone at this point, but who else knew about her daily swim?’

Hen refused to be sidetracked. She was explaining the timing. ‘I couldn’t understand how you failed to notice the body when you searched the Apuldram pool on Monday morning.’

‘Me neither.’

‘I believe the body was moved there
after
you checked the pool.’

‘You’re saying he left her here overnight and then came back for her?’

‘Late Monday.’

The line went silent while Stella took this in. ‘That’s cool,’ she said finally. ‘And so cunning. I sound the all clear and he moves in with the corpse. It could have stayed under cover all winter if the two women hadn’t come snooping.’

‘And it shifted suspicion to Cartwright.’

‘This has got to be someone with inside knowledge, guv. Rick must have heard about the search. From his girlfriend Gemma, no doubt.’

At her end of the phone, Hen smiled. Stell had really got it in for Rick. ‘What was his motive, then?’

‘He’d tired of Sally. He was passionate about Gemma. He wanted to escape from the Sunday lunch routine.’

‘I’m not convinced, Stell. He didn’t need to kill her. He could have told her it was over and stopped going.’

‘Some people do anything to avoid a face-to-face row.’

‘Murder?’

‘Don’t forget there are two other victims. Murder is no big deal when you’ve done it before. He reckoned he had a foolproof method, drowning them.’

‘I’d be more impressed if we could link Rick to the other murders. I don’t know what connection he had to Meredith or Fiona.’

Stella continued to stoke the flames of her suspicion. ‘He’s been around from the beginning. Jo found Meredith’s body and who was it who happened to be dating Jo at the time? Rick. Then he started dating Gemma, who worked with Fiona. There is a link, you see.’

‘We can say much the same for Jake.’

‘Guv, Jake had nothing to do with Sally. She was Rick’s woman.’

Hen saw sense in that. ‘I’ll have another try with him.’

JO HAD reached a point in the mercy mission where she felt rather foolish. If she went any further, the water would come over the tops of her wellies, so she was forced to take them off and carry them, wading barefoot with her skirt pulled up to her thighs. Even so, her mood was buoyant. She’d see Jake tonight and have a good laugh about this.

Not far ahead was the timber-framed flint cottage she knew to be Miss Peabody’s, and it was on higher ground than she remembered. Some water might have penetrated to the ground floor, but this wasn’t the emergency she’d pictured. She waded through the remaining surface water and up a definite incline to the front door. A sandbag was across it.

RICK HAD decided he didn’t need a solicitor. ‘When you find the inside of my car is clean, you’ll have to let me walk.’ he told Hen.

‘I’ll be frank with you,’ she told him. ‘I’m interested in other deaths as well as Sally’s.’

Alarm briefly visited Rick’s eyes. He passed both hands over his bleached hair, smoothing it. ‘Oh that,’ he said with a too-obvious effort to sound unflustered. ‘You’ve been talking to Jo and Gemma. I made that up, about killing Cartwright. It was a running joke that got out of hand when Jo took it seriously. No sense of humour, that woman.’

Killing Cartwright? This was a whole new angle on the case.

Up to now, Hen hadn’t got Rick down as a humorist. He appeared to want to talk, so she and Gary listened.

‘The beginning of it was that Gem couldn’t stand her boss, so we all got to thinking up weird ways of getting rid of him. Fun ways. I don’t think Jake joined in, but he’s got as much fun in him as a bowl of cold porridge. He was listening, though.’ Rick’s eyes widened as a thought struck him. ‘Was it bloody Jake who put you on to me? He’d take anything as gospel, that guy. Anyway, I made up this story about bashing Cartwright’s head in and disposing of the body at a papermill, turning it into pulp, so he’d be in the news. In the news. Joke, right?’

Hen had failed to smile, but she gave a nod.

‘It was a touch too realistic for Jo and freaked her out. Gemma believed me too, but she didn’t take it the same way. I think she really did want to see the back of Cartwright. But for Christ’s sake, it was a joke.’

Hen turned to Gary. ‘It must be the way he tells ’em.’

‘Only a bloody joke,’ Rick insisted.

‘A poor taste joke.’

‘This all started with the girls,’ he said in his defence. ‘They were having a laugh about it before any of the bodies were found. I joined in, like you do, to keep the conversation going. I suppose it got out of hand later, but don’t believe a word of it. Nothing happened, right?’

‘Have you finished?’ Hen enquired.

‘Er, I suppose so.’

‘Now let’s talk about Meredith Sentinel.’

He blinked, as if the switch to another victim had derailed him. ‘Can’t help you. Didn’t meet the woman, don’t know anything about her.’

‘I’ll fill you in, then,’ Hen said. ‘She came to Selsey expecting to attend a beach barbecue, a reunion of the mammoth excavation twenty years ago. A proper invitation was sent to her.’ She took the bagged card from her desk drawer and held it for Rick to see.

He gave it a glance. ‘Nothing to do with me.’

‘Twenty years ago, Meredith was a new student at Brighton. She was part of the dig. A great experience for her. A good memory. She expected to meet old friends when she returned here in September. Instead, all she met was her murderer. The grand reunion was a hoax. I notice you have an impressive string of letters after your name. Where did you do your studies, Rick?’

He took a deep breath, kept her waiting and finally gave a broad grin. ‘Edinburgh.’ Who said he didn’t have a sense of humour?

‘All of them?’

‘That’s where I was living until nineteen-ninety-two.’

It wasn’t the triumph Rick expected. Mentally, Hen excluded him. Suddenly she’d cut off. She still had the invitation in her hand and she stared at it as if she hadn’t seen it before. An entirely new line of thought had popped into her brain. She was tempted to end the interview there. But there was a chink of light ahead, and she decided to go for it. She restored her full attention to Rick.

‘You and Gemma are pretty close? An item, as they say?’

‘Good friends.’

‘Very good friends, according to her. She’s a local lass. She tells me she was only fifteen in the year the mammoth was dug up. It must have made an impression, though. It was a big deal in Selsey at the time. Some of the local kids joined in. The weather was really good by all accounts. A chance to show off their bikinis and meet some students. Has she told you about it?’

This was invention on Hen’s part. Nothing about the stronger attraction of Duran Duran. She had some expectation that he would answer yes.

He didn’t. Instead he said, ‘She told me once that she had more hands-on experience of fossils than Jake would ever have. I thought it was a joke. You don’t find out with Gem. I guess she could have meant the mammoth dig.’

THERE WAS no answer to Jo’s persistent knocking. Worrying. She put her wellies beside the sandbag and tried the doorknob. It turned and she was able to step inside. The mat was damp to the touch of her bare feet. Some flood water, at least, had seeped into the cottage.

The interior was dark and smelt musty. But as her eyes adjusted she could see that it had been kept tidy. There was no hallway. You stepped straight into the living room. She could make out the traditional stone fireplace and stove, which was both cooker and water heater. Glass-fronted cupboards were stacked with china. The little kitchen was across the room to one side of the hearth. She felt the squelch of the carpet as she moved over it.