The Circle

15

Pressganged into being spokesman for the circle, Bob had no chance to prepare. He spent the rest of that day and next morning fielding questions from national and local papers, as well as radio and TV people. It was jaw-dropping what some of these journos asked. Did Miss Snow have children? Affairs with clients? Was she gay?

Miss Snow?

The hardest part was giving the impression that he knew all about the poor woman. By the third or fourth interview he'd worked up a routine that seemed to satisfy them. Yes, she was a quiet, conscientious lady who doubled up as secretary and treasurer of the circle, and would be hugely missed. She was a chartered accountant. Even after retirement she'd continued to audit the books of several Chichester businesses. She was very committed to helping the women's refuge, serving in the charity shop and helping out at the house the refuge used. Any spare time was devoted to the book she was writing about famous Snows.

He didn't mention that call inviting her to the boat house. Up to now the press hadn't fully grasped the link between all three fires, and he was damned if he wanted to be put through the grinder about his own adventure.

Just when he was thinking of taking no more calls, Thomasine phoned.

'You're a star,' she said. 'No one else could have done it. I heard you on the car radio when I was driving out to Zach's. Writers' circle ten, nosy interviewer nil.'

'More like one all and playing extra time,' he said. 'What's the dope on Zach?'

'He was uncomfortable about leaving the meeting halfway through. I've got my suspicions. Anton was probably right. Those two are up to something.'

'Zach and Naomi? It's an odd pairing.'

'I know, but if she wants to use Zach, he's putty in her hands. She terrifies most men. Terrifies me sometimes.'

'Use him for what?'

'What Anton was on about. Recycling all this drama as the raw material for storylines.'

'I didn't think Naomi wrote stories. She does facts, doesn't she, the truth about witchcraft and such?'

'Yes, but Zach is the storyteller. He can wrap anything up in words and make it sound exciting.'

'Do you think so? When he read out bits of his novel I was turned right off.'

'He's the best we've got.'

'Do Zach and Naomi know anything we don't?'

'I get the feeling they do. There's something going on, Bob.'

'So what next? Do we tackle Naomi?'

'She's next, yes.'

He gave an insincere sigh. 'What a pity I'm so busy with all these press interviews.'

DI Cherry was a foot taller than Hen and showing resentment that she'd taken over this investigation, but in her philosophy the bigger they came, the easier they were to shoot down. 'What do you mean, "it's missing", Johnny? It was on the video.'

He shrugged. 'I checked all the evidence bags, and it isn't among them.'

'Was it ever?'

'Pardon?'

'Was the picture of Blacker and the other man ever removed from the bedroom and bagged up?'

Now he looked over her head, as if the strip lighting had a fascination for him. 'I thought it was. Can't be a hundred per cent certain.'

'Didn't it interest you as the senior investigator?'

'I was focusing on the seat of the fire downstairs.'

'The front door?'

'Yes.'

'And when you finished focusing downstairs did you look in the bedroom?'

'Sure, and we collected a lot of stuff, like his sleeping tablets and the clothes he'd been wearing.'

'They were hanging over the chair?'

'Right. You can see them on the video. It was taken before we disturbed anything. You can see the clothes if you want. His wallet. His credit cards.'

'Are we on the same wavelength, Johnny? Just now, all I want to see is that photo.'

'I get you. I'm not being stroppy. I was at my desk at eight this morning.'

Hen had shown up closer to nine thirty. 'Early riser?'

'No. I need the alarm to wake me at six thirty. I fit in my swim before I get here. I've always believed in leading by example.'

She ignored the taunt. 'Is it possible it's still hanging on the wall in what's left of the cottage?'

'I suppose it could be.'

'Then I suggest you retrieve it pretty fast and bring it here.' After he'd gone she turned to Stella. 'What a bullshitter. I asked him earlier if we had it and he told me we did.'

'In fairness, guv, he wasn't quite so categorical as that. You asked him if it was bagged up and he said it must have been.'

'Shifting the blame. He'll come down like a ton of bricks on some hapless scene-of-crime officer. Leading by example. So far, I'm not impressed with our Mr Cherry.' She called across the incident room, over the heads of the civilian staff entering data into computers, 'DC Humphreys.'

A startled face surfaced. 'Ma'am?'

'"Guv" will do, thank you. How many of the writers' circle have you contacted about the meeting?'

'All but three. . guv.'

'And who are they — the ones you haven't reached?'

'Zach Beale. He hasn't turned up at work yet. And Naomi and Basil Green. I left a message on their answerphone.'

'Everyone else is signed up?'

"Yes, guv.'

'Chase up the Greens, then. And Zach.'

Another officer called. 'For you, guv.' He held up a phone. 'Forensics.'

Hen put it to her ear. 'You've got results for me?'

'Is this DCI Mallin?'

'It is.'

'Pauline Cooper, forensic odontologist, concerning the remains found in the fire in number seven, Tower Street.'

'Yes?'

'I was asked to compare the teeth of the deceased with the dental records of Miss Amelia Snow.'

'And?'

'As I'm sure you're aware, the skull recovered from the fire was severely burned and disintegrating in places but the jawbones were intact. Teeth withstand intense heat better than any other parts of the body. These were in good enough condition for me to make a comparison. I'm satisfied that we have a match with the records of Miss Snow. The number and positioning of the fillings — and there are eight — and two extractions, are more than sufficient statistically to establish identity beyond reasonable doubt.'

'I can't tell you how grateful I am,' Hen said. 'There wasn't much else to go on.'

Ms Cooper wasn't the chatty sort. It seemed to be a point of pride in the Forensic Science Service that they never revealed satisfaction in work well done, but this was a human being on the end of the line, not a cipher, and she deserved her pat on the back.

But whatever she privately thought, Ms Cooper was unemotional to the end. 'I'll send you the written report shortly and a copy will go to the coroner. Someone else wishes to speak to you now. Hold on and I'll transfer you.'

Hen put her hand over the mouthpiece and said to Stella, 'What did I do to deserve this? Two forensic reports in one call.'

This one announced himself as the gas chromatographist, but for Hen's purposes he was the ash man, the fellow who'd sifted through the remains at the seats of all three fires. He started to explain how he went about separating components of hydrocarbons, but Hen asked him to cut to the chase.

'You want to know if the fires appear to have been started using the same materials?'

'In a nutshell, yes.'

'Fire number one, at the cottage on the Selsey Road, employed a liquid accelerant and saturated rags, and this appears to have been the case with the second and third fires, at the boat house and Tower Street. The agent was gasoline in all three cases, leaded gasoline. So the answer — in a nutshell — is yes.'

'Petrol?'

'Of course it vaporises quickly, but the fact that it was leaded was useful. You have a chance of measuring the lead content. We recovered enough through seepage to make comparisons and there's no doubt all three fires employed a similar grade with a good correspondence of the lead.'

'So we have a serial arsonist?'

'I just report our findings, chief inspector.'

'Okay, and it's up to me to interpret them. We have a serial arsonist.' After she'd thanked him, Hen turned back to Stella. 'You heard my side of it? Let's start getting this mess unscrambled, Stell. The guy on remand, Maurice McDade, has to be released a.s.a.p. and we'll need a magistrate's order. He's the only one of the circle who can't be the arsonist.'

Naomi had arranged to meet Zach in St Martin's tea rooms, a low-beamed seventeenth-century building reached from North Street by way of a passage called the Crooked S. Most patrons came for the tea, coffee and pastries, pricy but prizewinning, and unequalled in the city. Some may have been drawn by the beautiful waitresses, also unequalled. Naomi, however, had picked the place for its dimly lit interior and honeycomb layout, ideal for people not wanting to be observed. She'd chosen a table screened by tall settles and she and Zach sat close to the wall and facing each other. The secrecy suited Zach. He'd told his boss in the record shop that he was down with flu.

'What we've got now,' Naomi said, 'is a classic murder plot.'

'I guess,' Zach said,

'There's no guessing about it. Two deaths and a near death all connected with the circle. You and I are wonderfully placed.'

'I'm not so sure of that.'

'You're not so sure of anything this morning.'

'Wonderfully placed to get murdered.'

He could have been Basil, talking like that. Naomi didn't care for it. 'Get a grip, man. I'm talking about our e-book. Imagination and investigation striding side by side. You've started work, I hope?'

'I put down a few ideas.'

'Not on the website, you haven't.'

'I'm not ready for that yet'

'Work in progress, man. It doesn't have to be perfect. I'll hear these ideas, anyway.'

He fingered his earring. 'Like you suggested, I'm trying to draft a story that begins in the past, with Blacker and the guy in the photo, his gay lover — as we assumed.'

'You can assume anything,' she said. 'You don't have to bother with the truth. It's up to me to unearth the facts and write them down — as I'm doing, on the website — and you'd better start soon. The killing of Miss Snow gives this a dimension I hadn't dared to expect, definitely a serial arsonist at work.'

'Seems so.'

'Come on, Zach. Don't tantalise. How does your story go?'

'I had a good look at that photo,' he said. 'The writing on the back says it was taken in 1982, over twenty years ago. It would have been neat if the other guy turned out to be a member of the circle, but I can't see any resemblance.'

'There's such a thing as artistic licence.'

He shook his head. 'I've already headed in another direction. In this version, he's the second son of a duke. I've called him Jason. The family are rich, but rich, filthy rich.'

She gave an approving nod. 'That's always good in a book.'

'A castle, a house in Belgravia and a place in the South of France. Edgar Blacker — may I call him by his real name?'

Now she gazed down at her coffee. 'Maybe not. We'll think about that.'

'For the time being?'

A pause, then, 'All right.'

'He asks to use one of the family homes as the background to a photo shoot for a magazine feature, and that's how he gets to meet Jason.'

Naomi nodded again, liking it. 'They are attracted to each other and. . '

'Jason invites Blacker to share his penthouse in London. They're very close, those two. The next thing is, Jason's older brother — the heir to the dukedom — is killed in a boating accident'

'Lovely. Drops overboard?'

'On a sea trip off the coast of France.'

'Is it murder?'

'Of course. Blacker is responsible. While the yacht was anchored in a big marina and everyone was sleeping, he came aboard and chloroformed the brother and dragged him out of the cabin and heaved him overboard. The body isn't recovered for several days. No one suspects Blacker. No one knows he was anywhere near the boat.'

'This is more like it,' Naomi said, reaching out to put a hand over Zach's. 'You have such a fertile imagination.'

'It never sounds so clever just describing the plot,' Zach said. 'It will grab you when I get it on paper.'

'On the web,' she corrected him. 'It grabs me now. Does he tell Jason what he's done?'

'Not yet. But of course Jason is now the heir. Blacker does all he can to cultivate the relationship. For a time everything is cool. Then there are problems. Blacker is taking too much for granted, bringing clients back to the flat to impress them. There's a suspicion he's pocketing money that Jason leaves around. They fall out, big time. Jason shows him the door. Blacker goes apeshit and tells Jason what he did to ensure he inherited. He says if the murder ever gets known he'll swear he was acting under orders from Jason. He demands a big pay-off, and gets it. Do you see now? That's the back story. It's all set up for the murder of Blacker some years later.'

'By Jason?'

'Yes. Maybe Blacker has surfaced again and wants a big handout to finance his publishing venture. Jason can see this blackmail going on indefinitely.'

Naomi's eyes glittered. 'So he goes out to the cottage one night and sets it on fire? This is where our two stories touch base at a point of reality. Mine will be a faithful account of all the known facts about the fire while yours has soared away into fantasy.'

Zach nodded. 'But I'm still not clear how this will look on a computer screen. What's the reader going to make of it?'

'We'll use different fonts to avoid confusion. Mine will be in bold.'

'Why not mine?' he said, challenging.

'Because reality has to be paramount. The reader needs a structure and I'm providing it. You can be in italics if you want.'

'No, I'll stay upright. It's easier on the eye.'

With that settied, Naomi got him back on track. 'Where does the story go next? Have you thought of a reason why the other fires are started?'

'It's got to be Jason covering his tracks. He's heard about Maurice being arrested and the whole thing about the circle. He panics a bit over Maurice. You see, he has a conscience and doesn't want someone else to go down for the crime he committed.'

'That's all right — except you can't use Maurice's real name. Don't want to run the risk of libel.'

'You just said it was all right to mention Blacker.'

'That's because he's dead. You can't libel the dead. Never mind for now. We'll think of another name later. Go on. I'm hooked on this.'

'Jason finds out who the secretary of the circle is and makes the call to Miss Snow asking her to meet him at the boat house.'

'Why?'

'To make it obvious someone other than Maurice is the arsonist. But instead of Miss Snow, Bob Naylor shows up. Jason panics, thinking they must be on to him. He slams the door on Naylor and sets fire to the place. Naylor escapes through the roof, so no one is hurt.'

'You've really thought about this,' Naomi said with admiration. 'Now, what about the fire at Miss Snow's house?'

'That's Jason again,' Zach said. 'He's under tremendous pressure by this time because he made that call and he knows all the recent callers can be traced.'

'Why didn't he think of that before he made the call?'

Zach gave a shrug. 'Carelessness? This isn't a foolproof plot yet. So he decides to set her place on fire. He's in the clear and the spotlight shifts to the circle.'

'Not bad,' Naomi said. 'A few loose ends want tightening up, but you'll get there.'

'I'm not used to writing crime stories.'

'I said you'll get there,' she said with a touch of petulance.

'Okay. Are you going to tell me how you've been getting on?'

'You can read it on ChichesterMurderDetectives.com.'

'You're not putting everything on there, are you?'

She had a special smile for that question. 'Most of it.' She paused and looked to make sure they were not overheard. 'One thing I may not make public'

'What's that?'

'I've got a mole.'

'A what?'

'A mole.'

Zach didn't know how to respond. Alarm bells sounded in his head. She'd taken her hand away from his, but her hormones had to be churning wildly. If she offered to show him the mole, he wasn't sure what he'd say.

'I said I've got a mole.'

'I heard you.'

'Don't you want to know where?'

'Tell me, then.'

'In the MIT.'

'Ah.' He nodded as if a mole in the MIT was a common complaint.

You don't understand, do you? MIT is Murder Investigation Team. I've got a contact in the police station.'

Relieved, he heard himself say, 'Brilliant.' Then he added, 'Who?'

"You don't need to know. But I'll tell you this, Zach. There's a woman heading the investigation now and she's an ace detective specially brought in. Her name is Hen Mallin. She's already arranged for Maurice to be released.'

'That's good.'

She shook her head. 'Not good.'

'Why?'

'It means the rest of us are under the spotlight.'

Zach moistened his lips.

Naomi said, 'We're all going to be interrogated in the next twenty-four hours.'

'Christ'

'Yes, DCI Mallin is a tough lady. She knows about the photo of Blacker and the other man.'

'How can she?' His eyes bulged. 'I've got it at home.'

'They always take a video of the crime scene. It was still hanging on the wall at the time.'

'We'd better hand it in.'

'No. That would make you and me the prime suspects.'

'It's withholding evidence. They can do us for that.'

'We'll take that risk,' Naomi said with calm determination. 'Just make sure it's well hidden in case they search your place.'

He was stunned. 'Would they?'

'Is there somewhere at work you could keep it?'

'Maybe — but I don't like the sound of this one bit. Can I give it back to you?'

'No,' she said. 'They could find my fingerprints at the scene. You've got no connection with the picture. It's better if it stays with you. Keep your nerve, Zach. This isn't the biggest crime in the world. I was starting to tell you about my discoveries. Remember I was going to check up on Bob Naylor?'

He gave a faint nod. He was trying to think of places in the MVC shop to hide the photo. Behind an Elton John poster?

'He's a Parcel Force driver. Lives with his fourteen-year-old daughter. His wife died four or five years ago. I haven't discovered why he came to the circle, except he may be looking for companionship. He doesn't seem to have written anything. Can't even use a computer.'

He heard himself say, 'Neither could Dickens.'

'What?'

'Charles Dickens.' He'd spoken off the top of his head, but it felt good to get one over Naomi. 'You can write a novel with a pencil and paper if you want.'

'Naylor doesn't look anything like a writer to me.'

'We don't all have beards and bow ties. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt.'

'He seems to have struck up a pretty strong friendship with Thomasine.'

'She's a friendly sort.'

'No question of that,' Naomi said with a toss of the head. 'We've all heard her erotic poems.'

'Are you saying Bob has some other motive?'

'In the absence of any literary aspirations, quite possibly. Why does the man join a writers' circle if he talks like a bricklayer?'

'That's bitchy,' Zach said.

'What did you say?'

'Snobbish, then.'

'Not at all. He's behaving suspiciously. He sits there taking it all in and volunteers nothing. If my first thought is correct, and he just wants to pair off with a woman, a circle like ours is a good place to find one. But if he's getting privileged information about us, then we'd better watch out, all of us.'

'But you proposed him for press rep.'

'And for a reason, to get him into the open, see what he's really like. He can't go on acting the ingenue if we thrust him in front of the media. They'll get behind the mask.'

'You don't think he's the arsonist?'

'One of us is, and he's the one we know least about.'

Zach thought about that and took a sip of coffee. 'We don't know much about some of the others. Sharon, the hairdresser.'

Naomi said, 'Her?' in a tone of contempt.

'She says even less than Bob Naylor. The typical dumb blonde. What does she get out of the circle?'

'Perfecting her communication skills?' Naomi said.

Another bitchy remark, Zach thought, but this time he only said, 'That's a laugh.'

'There's scope for improvement.'

'She did tell us about this comic strip she's going to be working on. That was a surprise.'

'Diversionary tactics? I forget what we were discussing at the time, but it stopped us all in our tracks. Now why would a pretty little airhead like that take up arson?'

Zach looked across the room to see if anyone had overheard. He said in little more than a whisper, 'Is this going onto our website? It's a bit strong for publication, isn't it?'

'I'm not accusing anyone. I'm keeping an open mind, simply recording everything people do and say, including the police.'

He held up both thumbs in approval.

She said, 'I was telling you we're all going to be questioned. You'll find a message on your answerphone summoning you to a special meeting tomorrow night.'

'What if I'm busy?'

She shook her head. 'We should both be there, Zach. We don't want to draw any more attention to ourselves. And you may be sure the killer will be there for the same reason.'