Another One Goes Tonight

24

“Diamond in the thermal spa?” Ingeborg said with saucer eyes. “Who told you this?”

Keith Halliwell was certain of it. “Richard Palmer. He’s an old mate of mine and I believe him.”

“How does he know?”

“The boss talked to him late yesterday. Richard is the SIO on the dead woman found in the river. He’s the one who contacted Interpol and found she was from Bulgaria.”

“I know.”

“Well, Richard had a theory that she was a sex worker.”

“I heard about that from the boss. Load of rubbish, he reckons.”

“But it turns out Richard is right.”

“Get away. This is Jessie the housekeeper we’re talking about.”

Halliwell shrugged. “He asked the Bulgarian police to do some more checking and she was definitely on the game at one time.”

“No kidding?”

“They’re certain. Her picture is a perfect match.”

“Poor soul.”

“She’d been moved about Europe and was known to the police in Turkey and Italy. Then they lost track of her and it seems she was trafficked to England.”

“Is that certain?”

“Well, we know she ended up in Little Langford, so it isn’t rocket science.”

“And the assumption is that she worked here as a prostitute before becoming Cyril’s housekeeper? Wouldn’t that have come to light before now?”

“She changed her name, didn’t she?”

“Okay-I get that.”

Halliwell nodded. “So the boss is digging like fury. And when he starts digging he can rip through concrete. He wanted to find out who could have been running her and Richard told him the main man, the biggest pimp locally, was Gerry Onslow-who is now Mr. Big after some carnage in the crime world.”

“And they traced Onslow to the new baths?”

“Apparently he can be found there late most evenings when it’s officially closed. It’s the one safe place to see him if you can get past his henchmen. That’s what Richard told me, anyway, and that’s what he told the boss-who went straight home to collect his swim shorts.”

“Is he a swimmer?” Ingeborg’s face creased at the image this conjured up. “God, I’d love to have been a fly on the wall. And did he get a result?”

“Don’t know. He hasn’t appeared yet.”

Wedged into the last remaining slot in a long line of parked vehicles in Darwin Road, Oldfield Park, Diamond stared at the end-of-terrace house a little way up. How do you tell if the place is in use as a brothel? The closed blinds at all four windows might be a clue.

He swallowed an ibuprofen. He was not at his best this morning. He’d spent most of the night trying to get his head round the maddening conundrum of Jessie the housekeeper. The science had established that she and Maria the Bulgarian were the same woman. There’s no arguing with DNA. Yet Gerry Onslow had insisted that right up to the time of her death Maria had been living as a prostitute at this address.

The obvious inference was that Onslow was lying, but why? By admitting he owned the flat and virtually confessing he’d been living off her earnings for some time, he’d put himself at risk of prosecution. His whole demeanour had suggested running a brothel was small fry to a man of his status. He was clearly more concerned at covering up more heinous crimes.

And if he’d killed her himself, or ordered her death, he would surely have been only too relieved to grab the alibi Diamond had offered-that she had been living in a small village in Wiltshire.

Nothing added up.

Better deal with the matter in hand.

By now, Maria was two weeks dead. It was likely some other sex worker had been installed in the house. There’s no sentiment in the selling of flesh.

Diamond left his car, marched over and pressed the bell on the blue front door. Double chimes sounded inside, but that was all he heard.

He tried twice more.

A voice close by said, “You’re too early in the day, my friend. She’ll be sleeping off yesterday’s business.”

A bearded character in a flat cap and raincoat and holding a folded newspaper was speaking across the wall from next door.

“You’re the neighbour?” Diamond said.

“For my sins, yes. Didn’t know I was next door to a knocking-shop when I first moved in. I soon found out. But they don’t bother me. Live and let live, I say. My advice to you is tie a knot in it, at least until after lunch.”

“I’m not here for that,” Diamond said. “I’m a police officer.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Bishop of Bath and Wells,” the man said with a chuckle. “You can be honest with me. Man of the world, I am.”

“Do you ever speak to your neighbours?”

“I have done, yes. My cat Pussy went missing once. I had to go and ask. There was a slight misunderstanding over what I was calling about, but once we were over that, she was normal as you like. She’d been feeding the little varmint for weeks.”

“Did you get her name?”

“She didn’t give it. Wouldn’t have meant much to me, I expect, being foreign.”

“She’s a foreigner?”

“Most of them are these days, aren’t they? They come over the Channel and take our jobs. I blame the government.”

Not a helpful route to go down. “How do you know she’s foreign?”

“The way she talks, bleeding obvious.”

From an inner pocket Diamond took out the picture of Maria from the police website. “Is this her?”

The neighbour put on his glasses to scrutinise it. “This is the one who feeds my cat, no question. She’s not there right now. I reckon they need holidays more than the rest of us, but Pussy is pissed off about it.”

Diamond’s headache had suddenly got a whole lot worse. He hadn’t truly believed until this moment, and it made no sense.

“There’s another one been there some time,” the man went on. “Redhead with tattooed arms. I haven’t spoken to her.”

“This one”-Diamond jabbed the picture with his forefinger-“was definitely living here until recently, was she?”

“Two, maybe three weeks. I’m having to buy extra cat food.”

“Does she own a car?”

“I never saw her in one.”

“How long do you reckon she’s been your neighbour?”

“She was installed before I moved in two years ago.”

“And does she spend most of her time in the house?”

“She needs to. Blokes are calling all week long. I have to mark off my parking space with cones. It’s not illegal, is it?”

“Reserving a parking space?”

“No. Paying for some how’s-your-father.”

“Depends,” Diamond said. He pressed the bell again.

“She won’t answer,” the man said. “This time of day they’re out to the world.”

It dawned on Diamond that he no longer needed to speak to the other tenant. He’d learned enough from the neighbour. Just as Gerry Onslow had claimed, Maria the Bulgarian had been selling her services as a prostitute here in Oldfield Park all the time Jessie the housekeeper was supposed to be thirty miles away in Little Langford.

Crazy.

He pocketed the picture, nodded to the man and returned, muttering, to his car.

Back in Keynsham, he phoned the hospital to get the latest on Pellegrini’s condition.

The sister who sounded like a station announcer came on the line. “Mr. Pellegrini had a very good night and is progressing well, so well that he is being moved from Critical Care to a general ward on the same floor. He started eating solids last night and had a good breakfast this morning. His brain function seems to be returning, although his short-term memory is uneven. He was seen by the doctor an hour ago and it was decided to allow visits from designated persons once he is installed in Bradford Ward.”

“What does that mean-‘designated persons’?” Diamond asked her.

“Close family.”

“He’s got no family. His wife died some time ago.”

“Particular friends. People he’ll recognise. Visits from close family and friends are part of the healing process.”

“I need to see him urgently. I’m Detective Superintendent Diamond.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Diamond,” she said as if it was distasteful.

“And…?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. Does he know you?”

“We haven’t spoken, if that’s what you’re asking, but I got closer to him than most people ever will. I gave him CPR at the scene of the accident and visited him several times when he was unconscious.”

“I doubt if that qualifies. He’s not ready to answer questions. I’ve already had to put some people off.”

“Really? Who do you mean?”

“Trying to pull rank. It doesn’t wash with me, saying they’re a public body and calling themselves watchdogs.”

Dragham and Stretch. They’d been quick off the mark.

“Going over the accident that put him here would be far too distressing,” the sister went on. “We’ll see how he copes with the visitors he knows.”

“Visitors he knows?” Diamond said in alarm. “Who are they? I told you, he’s alone in the world.”

“You’re mistaken there. Two old friends from his railway society have asked to come and he’s happy to see them. These are people he’ll respond to.”

She could only mean Jake and Simon Pool, the amiable gay couple who lived in the signal box. They were the only other members of his GWR society left alive. Decent of them to visit. But were they putting themselves in danger? It was hard to see how. Together, they ought to be safe from Pellegrini in his weakened state.

He thought about telling the sister her precious patient was a serial killer, but decided it wouldn’t sway her. They can take high moral stands, these health professionals.

He told her he would phone later. “I’m not pestering you for no good reason, sister. There are matters crying out for attention.”

“There will be no crying out in Bradford Ward,” she said. “Don’t call before tomorrow.”

Sod that, he thought. What time are you going off duty? But all he said was, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

Deep in his gut he knew more work needed to be done before he could charge Pellegrini.

“I finally finished checking the laptop and there was nothing more of importance,” Ingeborg said. “If I never have to read another sentence about old trains, I won’t feel deprived.”

They were having a brainstorming session, as Diamond had put it, at Verona. He’d started on a late breakfast and the other two were watching him eat, Ingeborg over a skinny latte and Halliwell a cappuccino.

“His online diary is as good as a confession,” Halliwell said. “Talk about a smoking gun.”

“Tainted evidence, unfortunately,” Ingeborg said. “We can’t just let ourselves into people’s houses and steal the data from their computers.”

“No problem.”

Diamond stopped his chewing to give a faint smile.

“What do you mean by that?” Ingeborg said.

Halliwell wasn’t smiling. “We can use some guile here and go through the motions of arresting him and applying for a warrant to search his house and workshop.”

“On what evidence?”

Halliwell carried on as if he hadn’t heard. “Then we can take away his hard disk and get the diary decrypted all over again and in the eyes of the law we’ve got him bang to rights.”

“You’re talking as if search warrants are discount vouchers,” Ingeborg said. “They don’t hand them out in shopping malls. There’s a small requirement known as reasonable grounds. All we can offer is strong suspicion.”

“What’s your suggestion, then?”

“Belt up and listen, both of you,” Diamond said, putting down his knife and fork and wiping his lips with the paper tissue that came with the meal. “Something is seriously wrong with our thinking. We’ve been duped.”

Some of what he revealed in the next few minutes was known to them already. His visit the night before to the new thermal bath to surprise Gerry Onslow had been relayed already by Richard Palmer. But they hadn’t heard about Onslow’s startling assertion that Maria had worked as a prostitute in Oldfield Park right up to the time of her death. And they didn’t know about Diamond’s early morning visit to Darwin Road to confirm the truth of the claim. He told them what he’d heard from the neighbour.

“Not possible,” Ingeborg said. “We know she was living in Little Langford.”

“Onslow is lying,” Halliwell said.

The pair of them were united now.

“I thought the same. That’s why I went to the house to check, and everything he told me is true,” Diamond said. He stopped to let the waitress take his plate. “But there’s more. Just as I was about to start the car I looked up at the window of number 22 and someone pushed it open and looked out. I left the car straight away and hurried over and got a torrent of abuse because she thought I was a would-be punter disturbing her sleep.”

“This was the redhead?”

He nodded. “When I said I was police she thought better of it and came down and opened the door.”

“Was she dressed?”

“I’m not going into that. I fussed her up a bit, got invited in, made her a coffee and I had no difficulty getting her version of what really happened to Maria. These two were both on the game and sharing the house, Maria upstairs, Tracy, the redhead, down. On the night Maria died, Tracy was between clients, in the kitchen having a smoke, when a young man came downstairs. He said he’d been with Maria and she’d suddenly had some sort of seizure and passed out. He’d tried to revive her, but he couldn’t.”

“A likely story,” Ingeborg said in her all-men-are-rats tone.

“Tracy dashed upstairs to check and there was no question Maria was dead. They talked about calling a doctor, but it was obvious she was past help. Everything about the young guy’s behaviour convinced Tracy he hadn’t done anything to harm Maria.”

“Sudden death syndrome?” Halliwell said.

“Beating up a whore syndrome, more likely,” Ingeborg said.

“I don’t think so,” Diamond said. “These women are experienced. They know how to spot a violent punter. There were no marks. Tracy was in tears talking about it. Anyway, they both knew calling a doctor would lead to all kinds of complications for them both, so she suggested asking for help from someone she knew. She called Onslow and he came at once and took some swift decisions. He told the young guy to scarper and say nothing to anyone about what happened. The body was naked, of course, but with Tracy’s help he got it into some day clothes, for decency’s sake, as he put it. Meanwhile he’d called for reinforcements. Maria’s body was carried downstairs and driven away in a van. The next morning a woman Tracy knew as Dilly collected all Maria’s clothes and possessions and stuffed them into plastic bin bags and drove off with them.”

“Dilly,” Ingeborg said. “The widow of that old crime boss, Bob Sabin.”

“I expect so.”

“Did you tell Tracy the body was found in the river?”

“Yes, and she was visibly shocked. She’d got along well with Maria and knew she came originally from Sofia. Tracy herself is Romanian. They were both trafficked. She’d heard about Maria’s experiences on the game in Turkey and Italy.”

“Did you ask about Little Langford?”

“Of course. Tracy knows nothing about it. She said it was impossible Maria was leading a double life. She hardly ever left the house.” A smile as broken as a snapped twig appeared on his lips. “The thing is, I believe her.”

Frowns and silence.

Ingeborg was the first to find words. “What are you saying, guv-the forensics lab cocked up?”

“Or we did,” Diamond said. “There were two different women and the hair sample I sent for analysis wasn’t Jessie’s after all. It was Maria’s.”

Halliwell folded his arms defiantly. “That’s not possible. It was Jessie’s hairbrush. You found it under her bed at Little Langford.”

“This is going to be difficult for you to get your heads round, but I’ve had all night to think about it. The killer obtained a brush belonging to Maria and planted it under Jessie’s bed in the expectation someone would find it and send it for DNA analysis and get a false result.”

Ingeborg was shaking her head. “Pellegrini placed it there the evening he went to Little Langford? But Jessie was still alive then.”

“She was out when he arrived,” Halliwell said.

“Oh, come on. How on earth did he get hold of a prostitute’s hairbrush?”

“He must have been one of her clients. They both lived in Bath.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous. He’s seventy years old.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s given up sex. At that age, he’d need to pay for it.”

“I don’t believe a word of this,” she said. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“Because it was in the blueprint. You’ve read his diary. Everything he does is thought through like some engineering project. He set out to fool us, and that’s what he achieved.” Halliwell glanced Diamond’s way. “But only up to now. Thanks to the guv’nor’s good work, we aren’t totally suckered.”

Diamond had lit the touchpaper and stepped back in the hope of a flash of insight he hadn’t envisaged. The short spat between his two colleagues hadn’t sparked anything new. They’d repeated the line of reasoning he’d been through in his own mind.

“You’re right to mention the diary,” he said. “There was an entry about misdirection, remember?”

Ingeborg was on to it at once. “The conjuror’s trick. ‘I’ve baited the trap and we’ll see if it works.’”

“Right. Doesn’t this have the feel of a trap?”

“Just what I’m saying,” Halliwell said. “He fooled us.”

Ingeborg spoke the actual words of the diary entry. They’d all been over the text so many times that she knew them by heart. “‘A situation has arisen giving me the chance to insure my secrets against discovery. It’s the conjuror’s trick of misdirection, simple but effective. The nice thing is that I am uniquely placed to pull this off.’ He must have been in the habit of visiting Maria. He nicked that pink plastic brush with some of her hair attached.”

“Now she believes me,” Halliwell said to Diamond. “She just said Pellegrini paying for sex was ridiculous.”

Ingeborg ignored him. “He took it to Little Langford when he visited Cyril and must have said he was going upstairs to visit the bathroom and instead went into Jessie’s room and planted the brush under her bed. ‘I’ve baited the trap and we’ll see if it works. No worry if it doesn’t.’”

“This was what he meant by misdirection,” Halliwell said. “Making us believe Jessie was doubling up as a tom. ‘Today I’m rather pleased with myself.’ He would be, the tosser.”

“The calculation behind it!” Ingeborg said. “Let’s not forget Cyril and Jessie were both still alive when Pellegrini visited the house.”

“Under sentence of death as far as he was concerned,” Halliwell said.

“What I’m saying is that he did his bit of misdirection with the hairbrush, sneaking it under Jessie’s bed, the same evening he murdered Cyril. It’s chilling. He was already planning to kill her as well.”

“Except,” Diamond said.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

“Except what?” Halliwell said.

“There’s a flaw in all this. When is Pellegrini supposed to have nicked the brush from Maria?”

“On one of his visits for sex. It wouldn’t be difficult, finding a brush she used.”

“If that’s true, how did he know in advance that she would die in someone else’s arms and end up in the river?”