Name To a Face

THIRTEEN

Gabriel Tozer had had a burglar alarm fitted at-Heartsease some years previously, though he had economized by having movement sensors fitted on the ground floor only. Isbister had set the alarm personally on leaving the house at the end of Sunday’s viewing. It had been triggered shortly after nine o’clock that evening. Hayley had phoned the police and been advised not to stir until they arrived. In the event, the police had been unable to find anything amiss, bar an unlatched window in the dining room. They had detected no signs of a break-in.

“It took us some time to notice what had happened ourselves,” Isbister went on. “I thought it prudent to give the house the once-over this morning in view of the alarm going off. We finally discovered the lock on the cabinet containing the ring had been forced, but the doors had been wedged together with a matchstick so it wasn’t immediately obvious. The ring, along with the starburst box, was missing. But nothing else.”

“Nothing at all?”

“We checked exhaustively. It was just the ring he came for.”

“Via the unlatched window.”

“I think that’s how he left, certainly. I’m not sure it’s how he arrived, though. He may have unlatched the window while mingling with the crowds earlier in the day. But he couldn’t have been sure we wouldn’t spot that while locking up. So, another possibility is that he sized up the alarm system, hid somewhere-in the airing cupboard, maybe, or a wardrobe, or even under one of the beds-and waited till it was dark and everything was quiet before helping himself to the ring and leaving through the dining-room window. Going downstairs set off the alarm, of course, but by then it didn’t matter. He had what he wanted.”

“Is that what the police think?”

“They favour the first theory: unlatch the window and come back later. I have the impression they also think it’s possible the ring was stolen during viewing hours and the thief returned during the evening for some more goodies, only to leg it when he set off the alarm. They obviously have a poor opinion of our powers of observation. I can tell you that didn’t happen.”

“Do they have any suspects?”

“I don’t know. Frankly, I doubt they’re entertaining high hopes of finding the culprit. Half of Penzance left their fingerprints around Heartsease over the weekend. Nobody actually saw the burglar. Miss Winter very wisely lay low. A tough case to crack, I’d say.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“No. You don’t want to confess, do you?”

“Me?”

“Just joking, Mr. Harding. You could have bought the ring tomorrow, for a price Barney can readily afford, I’m sure. On the face of it, you’re the last person who’d steal it.”

“Who’s the first person, then?”

“Someone who badly wanted it, but didn’t have the money to pay for it.”

“And who might that be?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Better, I hope, for your sake, if Barney’s still in the mood he was in when I spoke to him this morning. He doesn’t like to have arrangements he makes interfered with. He doesn’t like it at all.”

Isbister was, if anything, understating Barney’s anger at being cheated of the ring, as Harding soon realized when he phoned him.

“What the bloody hell’s going on, Tim?”

“I don’t know. The ring’s been stolen. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Well, it’s not enough. You promised to make sure everything went smoothly.”

Harding was tempted to contradict Barney on that point, but opted for something less inflammatory. “I wasn’t to know this was going to happen.”

“Who took the bloody thing?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Well, find out. Get it back. I’m not going to let some sneak thief put one over on me.”

“I don’t really see what I can do.”

“Talk to this housekeeper Clive’s told me about. See if she knows anything.”

“All right.” That at least presented Harding with no difficulty. As it happened, he had rather a lot to discuss with the housekeeper already.

“And try to calm Humph down. He tells me he’s seen neither hide nor hair of you since Friday.”

“I didn’t know he needed to.”

“Well, you know now. For God’s sake, Tim, this was supposed to be a piece of cake.”

“It’s not my fault it isn’t, Barney. There’s obviously more going on here than you gave me to understand.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The ring was targeted. That’s obvious. I’ve no idea who by or why. Have you?”

“No, I bloody haven’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Maybe Humph knows of someone. You’d better check that. And buy yourself a phone so I can keep in touch. You’ve been incommunicado all day.”

“OK. I’ll do that.”

“I want to know who did this.”

“So do I, actually.”

“You could try putting the squeeze on a former employee of mine, now I come to think about it.” Barney’s tone had softened considerably. “Name of Ray Trathen.”

“I met Ray at Heartsease on Saturday.”

“You did?”

“He certainly bears you a grudge.”

“You can’t believe a word he says.”

“I don’t. But there was a diving accident in August 1999, wasn’t there?”

Barney groaned audibly. “Is Ray still going on about that?”

“Oh yes.”

“I guess I should have warned you.”

“Maybe you should.”

“All right.” There was silence for a moment, then Barney resumed, almost contritely. “I’m sorry Tim. By rights, it ought to be me sorting this out, not you. But as it is… you’d be doing me a big favour if you… gave it a go.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

Harding congratulated himself on how he had handled Barney, who was back now where Harding needed to have him: in his debt. It was a fragile advantage, though, with Harding’s phone-and Carol’s incriminating message-in Darren Spargo’s possession. He could not afford to rest on his laurels.

Nor could he spare the time to visit Humphrey. A phone call would have to suffice.

“You’ve resurfaced, have you?” was the elder Tozer’s less than genial conversation-opener.

“Barney’s asked me to look into the theft of the ring.”

“Has he now?”

“Do you have any idea who might have taken it?”

“No. I don’t.”

“I imagine… the news came as a nasty shock to you.”

“It did. Though perhaps it shouldn’t have.”

“Sorry?”

“I ask Barney to send me money. Instead he sends me you. I ask him to help me retrieve something Uncle Gabriel stole from us. Instead, what happens? It gets stolen all over again.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying the ring’s further out of our reach than ever. And I don’t think you’re capable of doing anything about it.”

Humphrey Tozer’s vote of no confidence mattered little to Harding. The theft of the ring meant his business in Penzance would not be concluded at tomorrow’s auction. It had, in fact, given him more time to probe the mystery of Hayley’s resemblance to Kerry Foxton and his sense of a previous connection with one or both of them. Perversely he was almost grateful for the opportunity it had handed him. But he had to tread carefully. With Spargo on the loose, he was in a vulnerable position. Finding Spargo, indeed, was far more important to his welfare than laying hands on the Heartsease thief. He set off into the Penzance evening knowing that had to be his first objective.

He found Ray Trathen in situ at the bar of the Turk’s Head, unaware, as far as he could judge, of the burglary at Heartsease.

“Still here, then?” Trathen greeted him, woozily cocking one eyebrow.

“I’ve just got back from St. Mary’s.”

“What took you there?”

“John Metherell.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The video, Ray. I’ve seen it.”

“What did you make if it?”

“I saw no evidence of murder. Not a shred.”

“There’s none so blind…”

“I wasn’t blind to one thing. Kerry Foxton and Hayley Winter. They’re so alike.”

“I didn’t know you’d met Hayley.”

“Briefly yes.”

“Well, you’re right. She looks a lot like Kerry.”

“How do you account for that?”

“I don’t.”

“It must have struck you as odd.”

“Yeah, well, Gabriel Tozer was an odd man.”

“You think he chose her specially?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“But she came down from London of her own volition. He couldn’t have-”

“Review her CV during this ‘brief’ meeting, did you?”

Harding took a deep breath. “I happened to ask what had brought her to Penzance.”

“And you believed her explanation?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because of how close in looks she and Kerry are. They could almost be twins. Sisters, at all events. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Are you suggesting they’re related?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?”

“Maybe I will.”

“You could ask her what happened to my copy of Metherell’s video while you’re about it.”

“You think Gabriel Tozer tricked you out of it?”

“Somebody did.”

“That lad who spilt his drink on me last time I was here.” Harding noted with grim satisfaction the confusion his sudden change of subject had clearly caused Trathen. “Darren Spargo.”

“What about him?”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No. I see him in here off and on. That’s it. What d’you want with him?”

“It’s a-”

“Did you say you’re looking for Darren Spargo?” put in a man standing next to them at the bar.

“Er, yes.”

“Can’t imagine why.” The man laughed. “Bit of a pillock, if you want my opinion.”

“I wouldn’t disagree with you.”

“He lives out at Treneere, if you want to know, next door to my aunt. Worse luck for her.”

It was a cheerless walk out to Treneere, a large estate of council housing on the northern edge of the town. The Spargo residence blended drably but durably with its neighbours. There were lights at the windows. Rock music thumped from an upper room. Two bicycles lay where they had fallen next to the front path. Harding cast a leery eye about him before pressing the doorbell.

A child with Marmite smeared round her lips opened the door and stared up at Harding. Then a bustling, broad-hipped woman with tired eyes and a wary expression took her place.

“Can I help you?”

“Is Darren in?”

“No. He won’t be back for hours yet, I shouldn’t think.”

Harding had half-expected something like this and was uncertain how to proceed. But he did not have to consider the problem for long.

“Is your name Harding?”

“Yes,” he cautiously admitted.

“Darren said you might look round.”

“He did?”

“Left this for you.” She stepped briefly back, then reappeared… with Harding’s mobile phone. “Picked it up by mistake, he said. Is that right?”

Harding smiled despite himself. “Sort of.”

She handed him the phone. “No harm done, then.”