Down Among the Dead Men

24

Diamond had plenty on his mind as he toiled up the slope towards the house so perhaps it was excusable that he failed to spot Georgina striding towards him.

She was not at her most sunny. ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’

‘Didn’t see you coming, ma’am.’

‘Answer me, Peter.’

‘I went for a walk.’

‘Went for a walk in the middle of the session, when everyone else was in the studio?’

‘It goes completely silent when the drawing starts, and that’s useless to us. Can’t talk to anyone, can’t overhear other people talking. So I stepped outside. A chance to look round.’

‘With what result?’

‘I found the lake.’

Her eyes rolled upwards. ‘Have we ever discussed a lake?’

‘You and I? No. Young Ella needs it for her A level extended project. She also needs transport and I think there’s a chance of getting some.’

Georgina looked ready to strangle him. ‘Have you gone soft in the head? You’re not here at the beck and call of schoolgirls. You’re assisting me in a serious investigation.’

‘Point taken,’ he said in the same untroubled tone. ‘I’m on the case. I need to persuade Ella I’m on her side. A rather odd incident happened at the party that she hasn’t told us about. She started behaving as if she was drunk or drugged and Tom Standforth led her away.’

‘Where to?’

‘Don’t know yet.’

‘Did he take advantage of her?’

‘That’s not a question I can answer yet. I doubt if Tom will tell me, but if I win Ella’s confidence, I might get it from her.’

‘Who told you this — about Tom taking her off somewhere?’

‘Drusilla. One of the artists.’

She frowned. ‘That is disturbing.’

‘If true, yes. Drusilla is a vocal lady. These things can grow in the telling.’

‘There’s a danger here of getting sidetracked. Even if you discover the truth, how does it help us find the missing schoolgirl?’

‘Get Ella talking and she might tell me more about Mel.’

Georgina didn’t, after all, strangle him. She didn’t even grab him by the throat. His explanation may have caused her to reflect a little. She sounded slightly reassured. ‘So you’re going to speak to her now?’

‘When I can prise her away from the others. She won’t open up while they’re around.’

‘You haven’t got long. They’re still in the studio, I believe. It’s a short break for lunch.’

He needed no better cue to escape from Georgina. ‘I’ll get straight to it, then.’

She nodded, and then announced in a voice that didn’t encourage debate, ‘I shan’t be doing any more art myself. Charcoal is a messy medium.’

He was tempted to say something, but he didn’t.

Jim Bentley always watched the lunchtime news at home in his Emsworth bungalow with his wife Sheila. First the national and then the local, by which time he’d finished his tomato soup and started on the banana. This was the routine right through the year except for the days he went fishing with Norman. Even the flavour of the soup never changed. For a man of his age he was enviably slim.

Points South were screening an item about swans.

‘Hey-ho,’ Jim said ‘this could be close to home.’

But it wasn’t. They were the swans at Christchurch, some way up the coast.

‘They want to come here,’ he said. ‘Ours take some beating.’

‘You’re so competitive,’ Sheila said.

‘There’s nothing wrong with loyalty to your own home town. If they came to film our swans they’d probably show the town quay. I’d like to see my boat on the telly.’

‘You and that boat.’

‘She’s given us some good times, you have to admit.’

‘You’re speaking for yourself, I hope. I don’t go to sea.’

‘But you make the most of it when I do.’

‘In what way, may I ask?’

‘In the shops — Debenham’s, Jaeger, The White Stuff. Shall I go on?’

The news had moved on to a man speaking to a collection of microphones. Seated to his left were a man and a woman. The woman’s eyes were red with weeping.

‘Poor soul. Why do they put them through this?’ Sheila said.

Jim had picked up the latest Practical Boat Owner and was leafing through it. ‘Through what?’

‘It’s a missing child. He’s a policeman and they’re the parents. I hope they don’t force the mother to speak. She’s too distressed. You can see.’

It was the father who spoke. ‘If you’re watching this, Mel, please, please get in touch some way and let us know you’re alive. We’re here for you as always and we’re missing you dreadfully.’

Sheila said, ‘It can’t be a kiddie if they’re asking her to get in touch.’

‘Runaway teenager probably,’ Jim said. ‘They aren’t young, those two. I’d say they’re knocking on fifty, both of them. Trying to bring her up to old-fashioned standards, I bet. It doesn’t work in the modern world.’

‘They don’t look particularly strict,’ Sheila said. ‘It could be nothing to do with the parents. Some boy could have put ideas in the girl’s head.’

‘Let’s hope that’s all it is,’ Jim said. ‘If I was in charge of the case I’d take a close look at the family. Nine times out of ten it’s what they call a domestic.’

‘They aren’t faking,’ Sheila said. ‘Believe me, they’re out of their minds with worry, those two.’

Now the detective in charge was speaking again.

‘He’s trying to sound positive,’ Sheila said, ‘but look at his eyes. You can see he doesn’t really think she’s alive. We’ll turn the news on tomorrow and they’ll say they’ve found a body. I’ve seen it all before.’

The weather girl came on, pointing at the map.

‘I wouldn’t bank on it,’ Jim said. ‘She may never be found. Real life isn’t like these soaps you watch. It isn’t all storylines that get tied up neatly, so you know exactly how things turn out.’

‘There’s an end to the story of every one of these poor people who go missing,’ Sheila said. ‘Even if they’re never found, they must end up somewhere. Sometimes they’re all right and survive and sometimes they don’t. But they all have a story.’

‘What I’m saying,’ Jim said with deliberation, ‘is we don’t always find out.’

‘It doesn’t matter tuppence if you and I never find out,’ Sheila said, ‘but for the families, it must be slow torture not knowing.’

The weather forecast had come to an end. Cold air from the north was coming in.

Jim said unexpectedly, ‘I’m going to call Norman.’

‘What for? You’re not planning another fishing trip? She said there could be gales.’

‘It’s about something else.’

The studio was pandemonium, a theatre bar between acts in a Beckett play, with everyone needing a break from the tension. Drawing from the model required strong concentration. Most were holding baguettes and drinks. Diamond squirmed through to the table at the end where the food was set out and a silver-haired man was presiding.

‘May I?’

‘Help yourself. Smoked salmon and salad to your left and bacon, lettuce and tomato here. The bacon is still warm, I think.’

‘I can smell it. I’ll go for it.’

‘I’m Ferdie, by the way, Tom’s father. Don’t know you.’

‘Peter Diamond, interloper, as one of your guests put it.’

‘A first-timer, then? What will you drink — hot or cold?’

‘CID, in fact, making a nuisance of myself asking questions about a missing schoolgirl. As I’m working, a coffee will suit me nicely.’

‘Instant, I’m afraid,’ Ferdie said, pointing to the urn. ‘Help yourself. We’re all extremely concerned about the young lady. I’m at your disposal.’

‘You’re not an artist yourself, then?’

‘One in the family is more than enough. I try to make myself useful as the catering manager.’

Diamond took a bite of the BLT. The bacon was still crisp and warm. ‘These are good. Do you cater for Tom’s parties as well?’

‘They’re easy to put on,’ Ferdie said. ‘Plenty of alcohol and savoury biscuits.’

‘Nothing stronger?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was thinking a bunch of artists wouldn’t be above dropping something extra into their drinks.’

‘Never seen it happen,’ Ferdie said. ‘I wouldn’t allow it in my house if they tried. Tom knows that.’

Diamond nodded. No one was going to admit to a police officer that drugs were being taken, but Ferdie seemed to mean every word. ‘I guess most of them are past that sort of carry-on.’

Ferdie smiled. ‘They’re a lively crowd after a few drinks. You should see them.’

‘I’d like to, but they may not appreciate a policeman showing up. Did you see the students at the latest party?’

‘I saw only one, with the wild hair, wearing black. A goth, she calls herself.’

‘That’s Ella. The missing girl is Melanie Mason, known as Mel, shorter, with dark hair. She hasn’t been seen since that night.’

‘I know who she is, from the art sessions. She definitely wasn’t at the party.’

‘Ella was taken ill, I heard. Can you tell me what happened? She had to leave the party, I believe.’

Ferdie sighed and shook his head. ‘She shouldn’t have been here. You’d better speak to Tom about that. All I can tell you is that she spent the night on a sofa in our main sitting room. He drove her home next morning. I offered a cooked breakfast, but she couldn’t face it.’

They were interrupted by a woman with charcoal smears on her face wanting a coffee. Diamond picked up his plate and mug and moved off. He definitely needed to speak to Ella.

He was crossing the room to where the three Priory Park students were in conversation when his path was blocked by a tall, gaunt man in a butcher’s apron holding a knife. Sunken eyes and a mouth like a gash from the blade.

‘You want to be careful with that,’ Diamond said.

‘You want to be careful where you fucking walk,’ the man said. He pointed with the knife.

At knee level was a small armoury of knives and daggers spread out on a donkey stool. Diamond would have crashed into it if he hadn’t been stopped.

‘Thanks. Didn’t spot them.’

‘Fine fucking detective you are.’

‘You know about me, then?’

‘Everyone knows.’

‘And you are...?’

‘Geraint.’

‘So you use the knives in your art?’

‘Fucking obvious, isn’t it?’

‘May I see your work?’

Geraint didn’t answer, but stood back from his canvas, making just enough room for Diamond to step around the knives.

The painting looked like a skid pan at the end of the day, riven with intersecting tracks. Many colours had been worked into a thick khaki mess in which the broad shape of a man was just about discernible.

‘What do you think?’ Geraint said.

‘I’m lost for fucking words,’ Diamond said and moved on.

The three students turned their heads like meerkats.

‘Good to see familiar faces,’ he said. ‘This is better than school, I bet.’

Not one of them answered. In truth, it wasn’t much of an icebreaker.

He tried again. ‘I started doing some drawing and gave up when it came out looking like the Michelin man.’

None of them smiled, but Ella couldn’t resist saying, ‘Show us.’

‘I tore it up. Didn’t want the model thinking I see him like that. I came over to ask if anyone has heard from Mel?’

‘We’d tell you, wouldn’t we?’ Jem said.

‘I was hoping she might have texted one of you.’

‘She’s not much of a texter,’ Ella said. ‘Not like Jem and me.’

‘But she owns a phone?’

‘Natch. Doesn’t everyone?’ Jem said. ‘Ella’s right. Mel keeps a load of stuff bottled up in her head. Even her best friends don’t know.’

‘And who are they?’

‘Ella, for one. Me and Naseem.’

‘Does she get on with her parents?’

‘I suppose. They’re stuck in their ways, like most parents. When I say “parents” I mean her mother and stepfather. She’s their only child and that makes it all a bit heavy for her, but she doesn’t complain. She’d hate to see them upset like they were on TV. ’

‘What’s your theory, then?’

‘About Mel?’ Jem said. ‘I think she’s dead.’

‘Oh, Jem!’ Naseem said.

‘Some psycho tried it on and she fought back and he killed her.’

‘That’s horrible.’

‘Murder is horrible. Isn’t that the truth?’ She turned to Diamond.

She was trying to shock, and he didn’t play along. ‘It may not be in this case. Let’s hope there’s another explanation. She left her house unexpectedly on the same night as the artists’ party.’

‘Pure coincidence,’ Jem said. ‘Mel wasn’t a party girl. She didn’t like hanging around with blokes. She wasn’t even a drinker.’

Naseem said, ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about her in the past tense. You don’t know she’s dead.’

‘None of us knows for sure, but if she just ran off because of a row with her parents, she wouldn’t last one night on her own. She’s a home lover. Correction: she was a home lover.’

‘She went out on her scooter,’ Ella said. ‘She definitely had some place in mind.’

‘Well, it wasn’t here,’ Jem said. ‘She wouldn’t go near one of Tom’s parties. She’d pay money to stay away. Am I right?’

‘Unless she came for another reason,’ Naseem said.

‘Such as?’

‘The texts we were getting from Ella.’

Ella turned accusingly and made a snorting sound — and it was clear that a confidence had been broken.

Diamond, inwardly alert, didn’t alter his expression.

Naseem refused to be cowed by Ella. ‘Were you texting all three of us, including Mel?’

After a moment’s consideration, Ella nodded.

‘So she would have got that message about Miss Gibbon, saying she was here,’ Naseem went on.

‘That’s not what I texted, dorkbrain.’

‘What was it, then?’

Suddenly all three had their phones out, checking stored messages. Diamond watched and waited with mounting interest. This could be vital information.

‘Found it,’ Naseem said and held out her phone.

They all looked at the message, including Diamond.

Ella was quick to comment. ‘Is that clear enough for you? She used to hang out. Past tense, get it? I didn’t say she was at the party.’

The main force of these remarks had been directed at Naseem. She wouldn’t be silenced. ‘But we all know Mel was forever going on about Miss Gibbon and how we never had a chance to say goodbye and stuff like that.’

‘That’s true,’ Jem said, and added in a complete about-turn, ‘What if she read Ella’s text and made up her mind to crash the party just to talk to people and find out for herself? Mel’s very single-minded. Once she gets an idea in her head, it won’t budge.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Ella said. ‘She got on her scooter and drove here and met some psycho—’

‘Like Geraint,’ Jem said. ‘And he cut her throat.’

‘Please!’ Naseem said. ‘That’s so gross.’

‘He’s creepy enough.’

Suddenly Ella was looking murderous herself. ‘You’re blaming me because of the text I sent? How mean is that?’

Diamond didn’t want this to end in a spat. He’d been content to listen up to now. ‘Hold on, young ladies. This is all supposition. We don’t know what was in Mel’s mind that night. Ella, did you send more than one text?’

‘She did,’ Naseem answered for her, ‘and I can show you.’ She brandished her phone with all the ceremony of Moses on Mount Sinai. ‘This was the first.’

Diamond read the message:

‘And then this one,’ Naseem said.

‘So what?’ Ella said. ‘They’re texts, that’s all. I was being sociable, reporting what I saw.’

‘I would have done the same,’ Diamond said in a show of sympathy, wanting to tease out all the information that was going. ‘How did you find out about Miss Gibbon?’

She was recovering her poise. ‘From Ferdie. He was doing the drinks and talking to me about the artists and he goes, “They aren’t all weird like Geraint. Some of them are prim and proper, like the art teacher who worked on graph paper, measuring everything”.’

‘Could only be the Gibbon,’ Jem said.

‘Yeah, silly old cow, and he goes, “Her name was Connie and she used to teach at Priory Park,” so I knew it was her straight off. Constance Gloria Gibbon. We found her name on that missing persons’ website. It makes sense really, her joining the local artists.’

‘Did he say any more about her?’ Diamond asked.

‘Only that she stopped coming months ago.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Those were his words. You can ask him if you don’t believe me. He’s still here. I was glad to have him talking to me at the party. I asked him to take my picture and he did.’

‘With your iPhone? May I see?’

‘If you want.’ Ella surfed through several pictures. ‘Here.’

The image of the young girl in her goth outfit with a fixed stare gave him some impression of her strength of purpose that night. In poor light in the background some shadowy dancing figures could be made out.

‘Can you zoom in?’

‘On me?’

‘On the people behind you.’

‘You won’t see Mel, if that’s what you’re thinking. She wasn’t there.’ She used her fingertips to enlarge the background. ‘That looks like the Bish. He was mental. The black guy in the hat is Manny. And the woman could be Anastasia or Drusilla. Just about everyone was there.’

‘Except us,’ Jem said. ‘I’ve got to hand it to Ella. She was the only one with the guts to crash the party.’

‘Unless Mel turned up later,’ Naseem said.

‘Let’s hope she didn’t,’ Diamond said, to draw a line under all the speculation. He turned to Ella. ‘If you wouldn’t mind stepping outside, I can point to the lake we were talking about as the setting for your project. I had a walk down there and it looks ideal to me.’

Ella’s eyes widened. She was hooked.

Outside the studio, and alone with Ella, he pointed down the hill towards the copse and added the promising news that large vehicles of some kind seemed to travel the estate. ‘I think you could safely ask Tom if you can bring the House of Usher here and whether they can provide the transport.’

‘It’s a good thought, but I couldn’t ask him.’

‘Why not?’

‘After I crashed the party, I’m not exactly the flavour of the month.’

‘Want me to have a word with him?’

‘About my project? Would you?’

‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get.’

She gave him a rare smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘And now will you tell me what happened to you at the party?’

The smile vanished. ‘To me?’

‘Did you take something that made you ill? It’s OK, you can be open with me. I’m not the drugs squad.’

‘Who told you?’ she said, fired up again. ‘Tom?’

‘Doesn’t matter. One of the others. They saw the state you were in and Ferdie told me you spent the night on the sofa and couldn’t face breakfast in the morning.’

The mood changed. She was resigned to Diamond knowing. ‘I took one tablet of E and it went to my head.’

‘Who supplied it?’

‘No one.’

‘That can’t be true, Ella.’

‘Someone at another party, ages ago. I’ve had it in my room ever since and I brought it with me. Tom was pissed off with me, but he acted really kind, helped me across to the house and made me comfortable on the sofa. I said some cringe-making stuff to him. I think I even tried to kiss him. In the morning he drove me home in his MG. Not quite home, because I didn’t want my parents finding out, so he put me down at the end of the street and I walked the rest. That’s it. End of story.’

‘Have you told the others?’

‘Not yet. I’d really like them to know I rode in the MG, but it’s kind of embarrassing, me spending the night there and not sleeping with Tom. I’m supposed to be the most liberated girl in the school. They’d give me a hard time if they knew.’

‘He’d get a worse time. He’d lose his job.’

‘I swear to God he didn’t touch me.’

‘I believe you, Ella.’

‘Unlike some of his friends. They treated me like I was some kind of slag.’

‘Who do you mean?’

‘That Geraint, for one. He’s evil. I just happened to be standing near him and he scared me, the way he looked at my body. He called me “bitch” and grabbed my arm and squeezed really hard. I mean, just because me and him were both in goth gear it doesn’t give him the right to hit on me. I only got away by spilling pineapple juice down his trousers.’

Diamond managed not to smile.

‘And worse than that was Davy.’

‘The model?’

‘He was coming on to me even before I reached the studio. He stopped me outside, where he was having a smoke. I couldn’t avoid him. He’s middle-aged and he was, like, “Hey, babe, I wouldn’t mind seeing you without your kit on.” That fat old freak wanting to me to strip for him. I nearly threw up on the spot, I was so disgusted. Just because everyone has seen him nude he thinks he can get away with murder. Well, not murder, but really bad behaviour.’

‘But you managed to escape?’

‘This is going to sound bad. You’ve got to remember I crashed the party. I told you I met Davy outside the studio when I arrived. I decided it would be easier going in the door with someone else than on my own, so I took control. I walked into the studio with him as if we were an item and dumped him after one dance.’

‘Have you spoken to him since?’

‘No, and not to Geraint either.’

‘Two men got their marching orders in one night. You’re formidable.’

She grinned.

‘And you didn’t see much more of the party because the ecstasy tablet made you ill? Was it still in full swing when you left?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘So it’s not impossible that Mel turned up later — after getting the text about Miss Gibbon — and you didn’t see her?’

Denial was written all over her face. She didn’t want to be blamed for sending the text. ‘There’s no evidence of that. Nobody saw her. That was just a dumb idea of Naseem’s.’

Diamond wasn’t letting it go so easily. ‘Remembering what happened to you — meeting Davy outside the studio — it’s just possible Mel did try to gate-crash and was met outside and never got in.’

She caught her breath. ‘Who would have met her — Davy?’

‘As you say, it’s a dumb idea.’