The House Sitter

11

Mr D?”

Diamond squeezed the mobile against his ear, as if more “ pressure would help. He’d heard the voice before, and it was friendly enough, yet he couldn’t put a face to it. “Yes?”

“Is this a good time?”

“A good time for what, my friend?”

“I mean, are you on your own?”

“I am.”

“I thought I ought to tell you I had some visitors this afternoon, two heavies from the CCU.”

The modern over-reliance on initials was enough to drive anyone down the paranoia road. “You’re losing me.”

“The Computer Crime Unit.”

The penny dropped-twice. This was Clive, the computer expert.

“What did they want?”

“They, em”-a long pause-“they seized Dr Tysoe’s hard disk.”

“What-the thing you’re working on?” This was devastating. “For crying out loud, Clive. Didn’t you stop them?”

“I couldn’t do that. They’re part of SO6.”

This was one abbreviation he recognised. “The Fraud Squad.”

“That’s who they work for, but they handle any kind of computer crime. They said they had authority, waved some piece of paper in front of me. It was no use arguing.”

The moguls at Bramshill were behind this, he guessed. If Jimmy Barneston were the instigator, he would have mentioned it, surely. “We’re down the pan, then. And I suppose you were still trying to crack the code?”

“It’s a brute, Mr D. The geeks in the CCU can give themselves a headache now, can’t they?”

“You didn’t succeed, then?”

“Sorry. No.”

“I was banking on you, Clive.”

“I put some hours in, believe me. I could save those guys some time by telling them what doesn’t work, but I guess they want to find out for themselves.”

Diamond said with a sigh, “I’m whacked-flat out on the canvas with my eyes closed.”

Taking him at his word Clive made a silent count of five before asking, “Do you want me to stop now?”

“What?”

“Should I give up?”

“But you have to, if they’ve got the disk.”

Clive said in the same calm tone, “It’s all right, Mr D. I can use the zip.”

“The what?”

“The zip disk. It’s a back-up of everything on the hard disk. I wouldn’t do a job like this without at least one back-up. I can carry on trying to decrypt those files if you want.”

With one bound…

Mightily relieved, Diamond asked, “Do the Fraud Squad know you’ve got this copy?”

“They’d expect it. I’d have to be a complete nerd not to back up something as important as this.”

“Get back to it, then. Pull out all the stops, or whatever you do with computers. You’re still ahead, lad. You’ve done all this work already.”

“What do you mean-‘ahead’? We’re all on the same side, aren’t we, Mr D?”

“Don’t push me, Clive.”

He told Hen the news over a cup of tea made and served by the WRVS in the main waiting area of Crawley General Hospital. The next moves had to be discussed.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “Bramshill gave Dr Tysoe the job, so they’re entitled to know what progress she made. The files could tell them.”

“I might be reading too much into this, but I thought it was a cynical move to stop us finding out stuff they want to keep secret.”

“Such as?”

“The names of the two other people this killer is out to get. She could have named them.”

“Let’s hope she did. And let’s hope your computer wizard delivers.” Hen gave an unexpected chuckle. “It would be a hoot, wouldn’t it, if this encrypted stuff turns out to be some other secret enterprise she was working on, like a thirty-something novel? Or erotic poetry?”

He winced. “You’re not helping my confidence.”

“Look on the bright side,” she said. “A window into Emma Tysoe’s thinking will be fascinating, whatever’s there. Up to now I haven’t felt I know her.”

“Me neither.”

“It could be a diary. We might get all the dirt on the Psychology Department.”

“Spare me that. I had five hours in the car with Dr Seton. I can only take so much.”

But he was forced to agree that Emma Tysoe’s university colleagues had to be investigated further. And Hen promised to make another effort with the beach staff at Bognor, the lifeguard and the car park attendants and café staff.

Hen was stubbing out her cigar prior to leaving when one of the tea ladies came over to the table and asked if they were from the police.

“At your service, ma’am,” Diamond said, uncertain what was coming next.

“Because we just took a phone call from Sister Thomas in intensive care. She said would you please go back directly?”

Diamond saw the flash of alarm in Hen’s eyes. Tragedy had leapt into his mind as well. No words were exchanged. They got up from the table and moved fast to the exit.

The sister was waiting for them outside the intensive care unit.

“Thank God you’re still here.”

“Bad news, Sister?”

“We had a man here.”

“What?” Neither of them had anticipated this.

“Just a few minutes ago. He came to the desk insisting he was the patient’s husband, and I think he was, because she seemed to recognise him. We were very alarmed, knowing the circumstances.”

“Couldn’t you stop him?” Hen said.

“I tried. I told him visitors weren’t allowed. He didn’t get really close to her. There was a bit of a scuffle as he tried to go past me. He shouted her name from the door and then he left. I called Crawley police, and then I thought you might still be here, because I heard you say something about tea as you were leaving.”

“What’s he like?” Diamond asked.

“Dark-haired, thirtyish. He could do with a shave.”

“He went which way?”

She pointed along the corridor. “And he’s in a rather crumpled black or grey striped suit.”

“Can he get to the car park that way?”

“Yes.”

Diamond started running.

The big man in quick motion was a danger to the public. In his rugby-playing days faint-hearted defenders had been known to step aside claiming they were sold a dummy when he charged at them. In a hospital corridor he was a potentially lethal force, dodging wheelchairs and trolleys and patients on crutches. Convincing himself this was for the greater good, and he was in control, he powered ahead, bursting through swing doors and around corners trusting to God he wouldn’t meet a freshly plastered leg-case being wheeled towards him like a scene out of a Charlie Chaplin classic.

By good fortune he made it to the main exit without mishap and dashed along a covered walkway towards what looked like one of the main car parks. Michael Smith had the use of a car, and it was likely he’d driven here after hearing that his wife was in intensive care.

Three hundred or more cars were parked in neat rows and others were in the aisles waiting for spaces. It was the time late in the afternoon when out-patients were leaving and visitors arriving. A few pedestrians were visible, but nobody remotely like the tall, mean-looking man Diamond knew he ought to recognise from the photo in his pocket.

He slowed to a walk and stopped altogether, catching his breath. The chase was over. The sister’s estimate of a few minutes must have been unreliable. Or Smith had slipped out by some other route.

More cars were streaming in on the far side, through a gate system that seemed unable to prevent the congestion. Diamond watched the striped arm go up and down a couple of times before realising it could be his salvation. A pay system was in operation here. Each driver had to pay something at the automatic exit. So there was only one way out-and it was possible Smith hadn’t got there yet.

Another dash, this time across the car park among slow moving, but still hazardous vehicles. Twice he had to swerve around a reversing car as if he was handing off a tackle. But it was worth the risk. At the exit was a queue of five or six waiting to pay, and the fourth in line was a white Honda Civic. Heart and lungs pounding, he approached the driver. Definitely the man in the photo. And the car couldn’t move out of line.

Smith had his window down. One look at Diamond’s warrant card said it all. He knew he was caught. Without any conviction he said, “What’s up?”

Diamond told him to switch off the engine and step out.

The questioning took place in a room normally used by the hospital almoner, with flowers on the desk and holiday posters on the walls-a distinct improvement on the average police interview room. This was a coup for Diamond and Hen. They would hand the prisoner over to Crawley police at the end of the day, but they had first crack at him.

Tired and scruffy, Smith now appeared not so mean, or guarded, as he had in the photographs. He’d evidently slept in the suit. But to his credit he seemed to have some concern about his wife’s condition.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“They think so,” Hen said.

“She fell and cracked her head, didn’t she? Do they know she’s epileptic? You can never tell when a fit is going to happen.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Diamond said. “But you’re under strong suspicion.”

“Of what?”

“Attacking her.”

His eyes stood out like cuckoo eggs. “Me, attack Olga? I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You were seen at the house yesterday afternoon. She was found there later when your daughter came home from school.”

“I’m not violent, I tell you.”

“You’ve got to tell us a whole lot more than that. Where were you last night?”

“Does it matter what I was doing? You’re way off beam if you think I had anything to do with this.”

“Answer the question, Mr Smith.”

He sighed as if all this were too tedious to relate. “I drove miles, and slept in the car. Salisbury Plain, I think. When I turned on the radio about midday I heard someone say Olga was injured and in Crawley General and they were looking for me. I drove here to try and see her.”

“Why were you on the run if you’re innocent?”

“That’s something else.”

“Come on. We’re not arsing about here.”

“I panicked. That’s all.”

“Why? What is there to panic about?”

“She told me on the phone the police had been to the house.”

“Is that so scary? What’s the scam, Mr Smith? What have you been up to?”

He shook his head. Suddenly the eyes were more defiant than panic-stricken. It was obvious he wasn’t going to roll over easily.

Diamond gave Hen an enquiring look, a slight lift of the eyebrows that said, in effect, shall we pursue this? Whatever racket Smith is in, banking large amounts of cash, there are more urgent matters to discuss before DI Bradley arrives.

Hen nodded. They had a good understanding already.

Diamond said, “You know there’s a lot of interest in the dead woman who was found on Wightview Sands beach?”

Smith stared back in alarm.

“We’re in charge of that investigation.”

“You’re not trying to swing that on me?”

“You’re a key witness. You called the lifeguard, I understand.”

“Yes.”

“And then you quit the scene. And you haven’t responded to any of the calls for help.”

“I couldn’t tell you anything. I didn’t want to get involved.”

“For the same reason you spent last night on the run?”

“Well, yes.” He held out his hands in appeal. “But what do you expect from me? All I did was tell the lifeguard guy she was down there and helped him lift her off the beach and into a hut, and then I left.”

The next logical step was to remind him that he’d been requested to remain until the police arrived, but this wasn’t a blame session. They needed cooperation.

“Now we’ve got you here, can you tell us anything else about the dead woman? Did you notice her before this?”

He took his time over the question. That day on the beach had been obscured by more vivid recent experiences. “She was there most of the day. Arrived not long after we did, around eleven thirty, I suppose.”

“Alone?”

“Sure. There was no one with her.”

“Do you remember what she was carrying?” Hen asked.

“She had a windbreak with her, blue, I think. The first thing she did was put it up.”

“Any kind of bag?”

“I guess she must have had one, but I don’t remember any when we moved her. My wife is better at remembering stuff like that. Well, when she’s OK she is.”

“Sunglasses?”

“For sure. And a towel. She had this towel that she spread on the sand to lie on.”

None of this added much to their knowledge, except that Emma Tysoe had arrived alone. The rest was familiar, its function mainly to assist Smith to visualise the scene. Now that the focus had moved away from Crawley, and he was less tense, he might contribute something of use.

Diamond took up the questions again. “So she spread her towel quite near you?”

“Just in front. But we couldn’t see her without standing up.”

“That was because the windbreak was in the way? But you’d have noticed if anyone joined her at any stage?”

“I guess I would have done. No, I don’t remember anyone arriving. People going by, like they do on a beach, but no one actually joining her.” He shrugged, and he seemed to be genuinely trying to think of an explanation. “Wait a bit. Olga said something about a guy who tried to chat the woman up, and she wasn’t having any of it.”

“She did?” Diamond leaned forward eagerly. “When was this?”

“Not long before lunch.”

“Did you see him?”

“No, I had my eyes closed. Well, I was probably sleeping, because I’ve got no memory of this.”

“How can you be sure of the time?”

“I’m going by what Olga said.”

“Did she describe this man?”

“Something about a black T-shirt. That’s all I recall.”

“Come on. She must have noticed more than that.”

“I didn’t ask. He didn’t interest me.”

“He could be really important,” Hen said.

Smith obviously didn’t think so. “I wouldn’t make too much of it if I were you. The woman was OK when he came by. And after.” He hesitated, dredging up another memory. “Actually, Olga told me the woman spoke to her.”

Diamond’s eyebrows shot up. “They spoke?”

“Only something about Haley, friendly like. You know how people talk to you about your kids.”

Neither Diamond nor Hen had any such experience to draw on, but they could imagine.

“It would help if you could remember what was said.”

“It was Olga who spoke to her. I wasn’t listening. She told me later. It was only some friendly piece of chat.”

“This was when-in the morning?”

“Before we had lunch. I’m just making the point that she was all right at that stage. It was some hours after that she was killed.”

“How do you know when she was killed?”

He reddened. “It must have been the afternoon, mustn’t it? A dead body wouldn’t be lying there for hours with nobody noticing.”

“So when do you think the murder happened?”

“I’ve no idea, unless it was when Olga and I went for a swim.”

“What time was that?”

“Some while after the tide had turned, and was coming in.

Towards four o’clock.”

“Do you remember looking at her when you got up for your swim?”

“Not particularly.”

“Not at all?”

“To be honest, there were some attractive women not far away on our left, showing off their assets.”

“Topless, you mean?”

“If you’d been there, you wouldn’t have looked anywhere else, believe me.”

Hen rolled her eyes, and said nothing.

Diamond asked, “How long were you away? Any idea?”

“For the swim? Half an hour to forty minutes. It was warmer than we expected, so we stayed in for some time. When we got out, the tide had covered a lot of the beach. It comes in fast. And that was when my wife panicked a bit-well, quite a lot-because we couldn’t see where Haley, our little girl, had gone. We’d left her playing with some other kids, chucking a Frisbee about. There was no sign of Haley or the other girls.”

“This was after four thirty?”

“Don’t know for sure. I wasn’t wearing a watch. I said I’d check with the lifeguards while my wife went back to our place on the beach. Someone had to be there in case Haley came back. So that’s what we did. I went up to the platform where the lifeguards keep watch, not far away from where we’d been sitting all day. I told them my kid was missing and gave them a description and they promised to make a search. They suggested I looked for her by the ice-cream queue outside the café, because lost kids often find their way there. I tried there first and couldn’t see her, so I went to look in the sections of beach either side of us. The groynes dividing it up are quite high in places.”

“You keep saying ‘they’, as if there was more than one lifeguard,” Hen broke into his narrative.

“Right.”

“How many were there?”

“Two, when I spoke to them.”

“Because when the police arrived there was only one present.

And I’ve only ever interviewed one, an Australian called Emerson.”

“There were definitely two when I first told them Haley was missing. A shaven-headed one in red shorts and a tall, blond guy with a pony-tail.”

“Were they both Australian?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t recall one blond guy saying anything.

But you’re right. He wasn’t around later, when I reported finding the woman. I expect he’d gone off duty.”

“There should be two lifeguards on duty,” Diamond said. “It’s not a one-man job on a beach that size. Someone needs to be at the post all the time.”

“I’m going to follow this up,” Hen said. “Tall, blond pony-tail… anything else?”

“An earring, I think.”

“Just the one?”

“Yes. He was well tanned, as you’d expect, and built like an ox-well, an athlete, anyway. That’s about all I remember. I was thinking about Haley at the time.”

“So it was Emerson who found her?” said Diamond, putting the story back on track.

“Must have been. You see, I was still flogging up and down the beach looking for her when she was brought back. Olga was there. It seems one of the other children got a nose bleed from a Frisbee, or something, and all of them went up to the first aid hut-which of course confused Haley when she was left alone up there.”

“You heard this from your wife?”

“Yes, when I got back.”

“Was that when you noticed the dead woman?”

Smith nodded. “Haley drew our attention first. But we weren’t the only people who noticed she wasn’t moving. Some lads not far from us were having a good laugh about it, thinking she was asleep, I suppose, and about to get a drenching. Olga asked me to look and I went over and realised she was dead. Christ, that was a shock. I ran up to the lifeguard-”

“One lifeguard?” Hen queried.

“Only one at this point. Most people had left the beach because the tide had come right in and it was the end of the afternoon anyway. The whole place was closing down. He was the Aussie. He came quickly enough. Asked those lads for some help to get her up the beach. A couple of them volunteered. And that’s all there is.” He let out a long breath as if he’d been living through the crisis again.

“These lads, as you call them,” Diamond said. “What age would they have been?”

“Late teens or early twenties.”

“You’d noticed them earlier?”

“Right at the start. They were on the beach when we arrived. I can recall saying to Olga that we wouldn’t sit too close to them. They had their cans of lager with them. But as it turned out, they weren’t rowdy or anything.”

“How many?”

“Four or five. I’m not sure.”

“None of them came forward when we asked for witnesses.”

“That’s the young generation for you.”

“Neither did you.”

Smith gave an uneasy smile.

Hen asked, “Did you notice anyone else sitting close enough to have seen what was happening?”

“There were three girls on sunloungers right next to us.”

“The topless ones?”

“No, these were just schoolkids, about fifteen, doing some serious sunbathing, but they’d packed up and gone by the time the body was found. The topless women were some way over to our left, about thirty yards off. You can forget them.”

“You obviously haven’t,” Hen murmured.

“There was a French family on our right,” Smith went on. “Mother, father and three small kids. I’m pretty certain they’d left as well.”

“That’s one reason why people haven’t come forward,” Diamond commented. “They’d left the beach before the body was found, so didn’t have the faintest idea they’d been sitting a few yards away from it.”

Hen asked, “Did any of these people you’ve mentioned speak to the woman at any time during the day?”

“Apart from the bloke in the black T-shirt? Nobody I noticed.”

“Did she leave the beach at any stage?”

“No-unless it was while we were swimming.”

Diamond came in again. “And after you helped carry the body up to the hut, you collected your things and left?”

“Right. We had to move anyway, because of the tide.”

Diamond glanced towards Hen. They’d covered everything except the real reason for Smith’s avoidance of the police. He was a deeply worried man, almost certainly into something criminal for the first time in his life. But as a killer so cool that he’d strangled a woman within yards of his own wife and child, Michael Smith just didn’t cut it.