The House Sitter

7

Diamond got back to Bath just before seven and dropped Dr Seton outside his lodgings, where else but in Odd Down? He swore a few times to release the tension, lowered the windows for some fresh air, and then set off directly for the university campus at Claverton.

Tired from all the driving, which he knew he didn’t do well, he found himself in the early evening snarl-up. Coming down Wellsway into the city in a slow-moving line of traffic he let his attention wander. Halfway down, they had erected one of those mechanical billboards with rotating strips that displayed three different ads. These had the same slogan, BECAUSE IT’S BRITISH METAL, but the pictures altered. He watched an image of Concorde being replaced by the Millennium Bridge-and then jammed his foot on the brake just in time to avoid running into the bus in front of him. Fortunately the driver behind him was more alert.

He was relieved to complete the drive without mishap.

The Department of Behavioural Psychology was quiet at this hour, though not deserted. A research student confirmed that Professor Chromik had been in earlier.

“Do you happen to know where he lives?”

The young man shook his head.

“It’s important.”

“You might catch him at the end-of-semester bash later tonight if he hasn’t already pissed off to Spain, or somewhere.”

“Where’s it held?”

“The clubhouse at the Bath Golf Club.”

Dr Seton hadn’t mentioned a staff party. Possibly his colleagues had decided not to tell him.

There was time to go home to Weston and shower. He called the nick to make sure he still had a job, as he put it to Keith Halliwell. Nothing more dramatic had happened in Bath than a middle-aged streaker running down Milsom Street. “He didn’t have a lot to show to the world,” Halliwell said. “Nobody complained.”

“How did we get to hear about it, then?”

“A Japanese tourist tried to get a photo. The streaker grabbed the camera and carried on running and we had to decide whether to do him for theft. But you know how it is trying to nick a naked man. Not one of the foot patrols answered the shout, so he got away. The camera was recovered later behind a bush in Parade Gardens.”

Unwisely, Halliwell asked if the trip to Bognor had turned up anything.

“Which reminds me,” Diamond said. “You went up to the university and spoke to the professor, right? Did he tell you about the tosser he unloaded on me for the day?”

“Not a word,” Halliwell said.

“Is that the truth?”

“Didn’t you get on, guv?”

“Don’t push me, Keith. I have a strong suspicion you were in on this.”

“In on what? I’m not following you at all.”

He seemed to be speaking sincerely, so Diamond moved on to other matters. “What’s this professor like? I’m going to meet him tonight.”

“He’ll talk. Doesn’t give much away, but I don’t know how much there is to tell. The dead woman was very brilliant, he said. She’s on the list of approved offender profilers and the university seem to be under some obligation to let her go off and assist with investigations.”

“Pressure from the Home Office?”

“Could be. All their undergraduate students have to be found placements in their third year for job experience. Some of them go to the Crime Analysis Unit at the Yard.”

“Did he talk about the cases she’s involved in?”

“He was guarded about that.”

“Let’s see if I can catch him off guard tonight.”

He took that shower, and decided on the dress code for a university staff party at a golf club on a summer evening. Cream-coloured trousers, navy shirt and pale blue linen jacket. As a safeguard, he tucked a tie into an inner pocket. Golf clubs could be sniffy about open necks. The shirt was a favourite, made of a fabric that didn’t crease. In the year since Steph had died, he’d scorched a couple of shirts trying to iron them.

It was after eight when he parked his old Cortina in a nice position outside the club, only for some member to point out that he was in the space reserved for the club captain. Tempted to riposte that the captain wasn’t using it, he controlled himself and found another berth. As an extra gesture to conformity, he put on the tie, a sober-looking black one with a repeat design of silver handcuffs, some wag’s bright idea for a birthday gift for a copper.

Inside, he located the psychology crowd in a private room upstairs. Plenty of beards and bow ties. Leather jackets seemed to be de rigueur for the men and black trouser suits for the women. Picking a glass of wine from a passing tray, he steered a course around the groups to where a dark-haired woman in a silvery creation with a plunge stood alone and conspicuous.

“You don’t have the look of a trick cyclist,” he told her.

She said, “Can I take that as a compliment?”

“Of course.”

“I’m Tara, the PA.”

“To the boss man, by any chance?”

“He’s the only one of this lot who rates a PA. And who are you?”

“The unlucky cop who took Dr Seton to the seaside today.”

Tara gave the beginning of a smile, and no more. Like every good PA, she was discreet-which Diamond was not.

“After five hours in the car with that weirdo I deserve this drink,” he said, and told her his name. “Which one is Professor Chromik?”

“Over on the right, with his back to us.”

“Frizzy black hair and half-glasses?”

“That’s him. Did he invite you, then?”

“No, but I’m here to talk to him. You must have heard about Dr Emma Tysoe.”

Her features creased. “It wasn’t really Emma?”

“Seton identified her.”

She put her hand to her throat. “None of us thought it was possible. She went missing, but… this!”

He was silent, giving her time to take it in.

“And here we are, enjoying ourselves,” she said. “Did you come here specially to tell the professor?”

If the truth were told, he hadn’t. He’d come to ask questions, not pass on the bad news. It hadn’t occurred to him that someone had to tell them, and it was unlikely Seton would have got in touch already. However, it legitimised his presence here. “I intend to break the news to him,” he said as if it had always been his painful duty. “Have you any idea what she was doing down at Wightview Sands?”

She lifted her shoulders a fraction. “Maybe she likes the seaside.”

“Was she on holiday?”

“Not officially. She had this arrangement to take time off to help the police with difficult cases. I expect you know about it. She told us she was on a case. But she usually lets us know where she is. She phones almost every day to check in.”

“But not this time?”

“That was why we got worried in the end. No one had heard from her for something like three weeks. I kept phoning the flat in Great Pulteney Street, but got no reply. I went round there myself one lunchtime and saw a heap of mail waiting for her.”

“Didn’t anyone know what case she was on?”

“I assumed she’d told Professor Chromik, but it turned out she hadn’t. He asked me if I’d heard from her.”

“Hush-hush, was it?”

“I couldn’t say. I can’t think why anyone would want to murder her, whatever she was working on. She was only an adviser.”

“What about her personal life? Was there a boyfriend?”

“She never mentioned one. She wasn’t the chatty sort. A lovely person, but she didn’t say much about her life outside the department. Mind, I don’t blame her. They’re a nosy lot. It goes with the subject.”

“Who were her special friends at work, then?”

“Nobody I noticed. She seemed to stay friendly with everyone.”

“Even the ones who had to fill in when she was away?”

“People grumbled a bit. They do when there’s extra work being assigned. A few harsh words were spoken in the last few days.”

“About Emma skiving off, you mean?”

“Well, it could be taken that way, but they’ll be regretting it now. It’s not a reason for murdering anyone, is it?”

“Let’s hope not.”

He drifted away from Tara and stood for a while watching the Behavioural Psychology Department socially interacting. It was not so different from a CID party, the high flyers hovering around the boss while the subversives formed their own subgroups and the touchy-feely element played easy-to-get on the fringe.

In this heated atmosphere the tragic news circulated rapidly. You could see the stunned expressions as it passed around. The moment arrived when Professor Chromik was informed. Frowning and shaking his curly head, he disengaged himself from his colleagues and moved towards the door, perhaps to use a phone. Diamond stepped in fast.

“You’ve just heard about Dr Tysoe, I gather? I’m Peter Diamond, Bath CID.”

The professor’s brown eyes were huge through his glasses. “CID? It’s true, then? Appalling. Do you mind stepping outside where it’s more private?”

They found a quiet spot below a gilt-framed painting of a grey-bearded nineteenth century golfer in plus-fours and cap.

“The whole thing is a mystery, and I’m hoping you can help,” Diamond said. “We’ve no idea why she was at Wightview Sands, or who would have wished to murder her.”

“It’s a mystery to me, too,” Chromik said. “I’m devastated.”

“You must have known why she was away from your department.”

“She was a psychological offender profiler.”

“I know.”

“Well, this is your territory, not mine.”

Diamond recalled Halliwell’s comment about the professor not giving much away. “She’s employed in your department, isn’t she? She has to let you know if she takes time off.”

“She did. She came to see me and said she’d been asked to advise on a case.”

“When was this?”

“Mid June.”

“Can you be more precise?”

“The seventeenth.”

“… to advise on a case. Is that all she said?”

“It was confidential.”

“You mean she told you about the case and you’re refusing to tell me? Confidentiality goes out of the window when someone is murdered.”

Chromik caught his breath in annoyance. “That isn’t what I said. She was not at liberty to speak to me about the matter. I can tell you nothing about it. That’s why I said it’s your territory.”

“You don’t even know who contacted her?”

“No.”

“And you let her go off for God knows how long?”

“Emma was trustworthy. If she said it was necessary to take time off, I took her word for it. She promised to let me know as soon as she was able to return to her normal duties. That was the last I heard.”

He seemed to be speaking truthfully, but the story sounded wrong. Either Emma Tysoe had been tricked, or she’d put one across the professor. If some senior detective wanted the help of a profiler, surely he wouldn’t need to insist on secrecy?

“Are you certain she was honest?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Is it possible she wasn’t working on a case at all, and simply took time off for a few days by the sea?”

Chromik shook his head so forcefully that the black curls quivered. “Emma wouldn’t do that. She valued her profiling work too much to put it at risk with a stupid deception.”

It was said in a way that made Diamond sound stupid for asking. Well, he didn’t have a degree in psychology, but he wasn’t intimidated by this academic.

“I’m trying to throw you a lifeline, professor. Your handling of this tragic episode is going to be questioned, not just by me, but by your superiors, I wouldn’t wonder, and certainly by the press. It sounds as if you let this member of your staff run rings around you.”

“I resent that.”

“It’s not my own opinion,” Diamond said, dredging deep for a word that would make an impact on this egghead. “It’s the perception. Do you know anything about her life outside the university?”

“In what way?”

“Relationships?”

“No idea.”

“Did you appoint her to the job?”

“I was on the appointments committee, yes. We were fortunate to get her. A first class brain, without question one of the most brilliant psychologists of her generation.”

“So where did she come from?”

“She did her first degree in the north. Then she was at one of the London colleges for her Ph.D.”

“I meant her home town, not her college career.”

“I can’t recall.”

“Any family?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t even know where she was brought up?”

“I said I can’t remember. We’ll have details of her secondary education on file somewhere.”

“Is there anyone on the staff who knew her? Anyone she might have confided in?”

“You could speak to one of the women. Before you do I’d better break the news to them all.”

“I think they’ve heard by now.”

“That may be so, but something needs to be said. I’ll make a brief announcement in there.”

“And I’ll add my piece.”

Both men knew the object of this exercise was not really to break the news. By now, the entire room had heard it. Some formula had to be found to allow everyone to remain at the party without feeling guilty.

Back in the room, Chromik called his staff to order and said he had just been given some distressing news. One or two gasps of horror were provided as he imparted it. Without much subtlety, he went straight on to say he believed Emma would have wished the party to continue. There were general murmurs of assent.

Diamond stepped forward and introduced himself, admitting Dr Tysoe’s death was a mystery and inviting anyone with information to speak to him. He said he wasn’t only interested in the circumstances leading up to her murder, but wanted to find out more about her as a person.

As soon as he’d finished, a woman lecturer touched his arm. He was pleased. If one person comes forward, others generally follow.

“I can help with the background stuff. I’m Helen Sparks, and we shared an office.” She spoke with a South London accent. She was black, slim and tall and probably about the same age as Emma had been. Her eyes were lined in green.

He took her to a large leather sofa at the far end. “Thanks. I appreciate this.”

“Like you said, I can talk about Emma as a person. I liked her a lot. She had style.”

“Are we talking fashion here?”

“Absolutely. For an academic, she was a neat dresser. She knew what was out there and made sure she wore it.”

“The latest, you mean?”

“No. The best. The top designer labels.”

“That must have used up most of her salary.”

“Emma wasn’t short of money. I think her parents died a few years ago and left her comfortably off.”

“Did she have a lifestyle to go with it?”

“Depends what you mean. She was living at a good address in Great Pulteney Street. Drove a dream of a sports car that must have cost a bomb. But she wasn’t one for partying or clubbing. I think she just loved the feeling that she was class. Shoes, hair, make-up, the works. Not showy. Elegant.”

“To attract?”

“I don’t think attraction was in her scheme of things. Obviously men were interested, but she didn’t encourage them. Certainly not in the workplace, anyway.”

“She preferred women?”

A shake of the head. “If she did, I never got a hint of it. No, she had her own agenda to look a million dollars and that was it.” Helen Sparks laughed heartily. “You’ve seen the rest of this lot. She was in a minority of one.”

“Two, I would think.”

She accepted the compliment with a shrug and a wry smile.

“Where was she from?”

“Liverpool, originally, but I don’t think she had anyone left up there. Most of her travelling was to help the police.”

“So she talked about the work she did, the profiling?”

“Once or twice when she got back from a case she mentioned what it was about. There were some rapes in a Welsh town, and she put together a profile of the man that definitely helped them to make an arrest. She also helped with a horrid case in Yorkshire, of someone maiming farm animals. She said it became fairly obvious which village the man came from. They caught him in the act.”

“What about the case she was involved in this time? Did she say anything at all?”

Dr Sparks leaned back, frowning, trying to remember. “One Thursday, she said she wouldn’t be in for a few days, and if I had to cover for her, would I arrange to show the final year students a film we have of juvenile offenders talking about their attitude to crime. I think I asked her where she was going this time and she said she wasn’t allowed to speak about it. I said, ‘Big time, then?’ and she said, ‘Huge, if it’s true.’ ”

“‘Huge.’ She said that?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“‘If it’s true.’ I wonder what she meant by that.”

“I’ve no idea.”

“And that was all?”

“Yes, apart from some messages for students about assignments.”

“How was she when she told you this? Calm?”

“Yes, and kind of thoughtful, as if her mind was already on the job she had to do.”

“Is there anyone else she might have spoken to?”

“Professor Chromik, I suppose.”

“He says she didn’t tell him anything,” Diamond said. He hesitated before asking, “Is it just me, or does he treat everyone as if they crawled out from under a stone?”

She smiled faintly. “It isn’t just you.”

“Did Emma have enemies?”

“In the department? Not really. You couldn’t dislike her.”

“Students?”

She drew back, surprised by the suggestion.

He said, “She graded them, presumably. Her marking might affect the class of degree they got, right?”

“It’s not so simple as that. They’re being assessed all the time by different people.”

“But one of them could hold a grudge against a member of staff if he felt he was being consistently undervalued?”

“Theoretically, but I don’t think they’d resort to murder.”

Diamond disagreed, and explained why. “Some students buckle under the pressure. Look at the suicide rate in universities.”

“That’s another matter,” Helen Sparks said sharply. “I wouldn’t accept a link with murder, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“But if someone felt their problems were inflicted by one of the staff, the anger might be focused there, instead of internally.”

“Ho-hum.”

“What do you mean-ho-hum?”

“These are just assertions,” she said. “You don’t have any data base to support them.”

“There won’t be data. Murder is an extreme act.”

“That’s no reason to be suspicious of students.”

“Helen, I have to be suspicious of everyone.”

He asked her to introduce him to more of her colleagues, and he met three others on the staff. All professed to having been on good terms with the saintly Emma. It was obvious no one would admit to being on bad terms with her. Maybe he should have delayed the questions until they’d all had a few more drinks.

He left the party disappointed, feeling he’d not learned much from the stroppy professor and his uncritical staff.

“The key to this may well be the case she was working on,” he told the small team he’d assembled. They were Keith Halliwell, his main support these days; John Leaman, the young sergeant he’d come to value in the case of the Frankenstein vault; and the rookie, Ingeborg Smith, chisel-sharp and chirpy. “The word that was used about it was ‘huge’. What I don’t understand is the need for secrecy.”

“Maybe someone is knocking off members of MI6,” Leaman said, not entirely joking.

“Or the royals-and no one is being told,” Ingeborg said.

“The corgis?” Halliwell said.

“Had your fun?” Diamond said with a sniff. “Anyone got any more suggestions? Whatever she was asked to do, we need to find out. As I understand it, profilers work with serial cases. There can’t be that many under investigation. I want you to start ferreting, Keith.”

“Using HOLMES?”

Diamond gave him a glare.

“The computer, guv.”

“Fine. By all means.” In time, he’d remembered HOLMES was one of those acronyms he found so hard to take seriously: Home Office Large Major Enquiry System. In theory it collated information on similar serious crimes. Diamond’s objection to HOLMES was that as soon as the computer came up with cases in different authorities, someone of Assistant Chief Constable rank was appointed to coordinate the efforts of the various SIOs. One more infliction. “But ask around as well. Down in Bognor they claim there aren’t any serial crimes under investigation.”

“If it’s hush-hush…”

“Exactly.”

“Are they up to this-the Bognor lot?” Halliwell asked.

“I think so. Hen Mallin, the SIO, has a grasp of what’s going on, and there’s a bright young woman DS helping her. They’re having trouble finding genuine witnesses. That’s the main problem.”

“From a crowded beach?” Ingeborg said in surprise.

“They put out a TV appeal and had plenty of uptake, but not one was any use. The only person they can definitely link to the case is the fellow who found the body, and he’s done the disappearing act.”

“He has to be a suspect, then.”

“He is. Said his name was Smith.”

“That’s suspicious in itself,” Leaman said.

Ingeborg’s big eyes flashed fiercely. “Thank you for that.”

Diamond said, “Bognor police won’t make much headway unless we turn up something definite on Emma Tysoe. I didn’t get much from her workmates.”

“Colleagues,” Ingeborg murmured.

“You went to the home address?”

“Great Pulteney Street. There’s a big pile of mail I brought back, most of it junk, of course. A couple of holiday postcards. A short letter from her sister in South Africa saying the husband went into hospital. Various bills.”

“Bank statements?”

“Yes. She has a current account with about fifteen hundred in credit, and two hundred grand on deposit.”

“A lady of means. Did you get into the flat?”

She nodded. “Eventually. She has one of those code-operated locks on her front door. It’s the garden flat, amazingly tidy. Living room, bedroom, study and bathroom. The main room is tastefully furnished in pale blue and yellow.”

“We don’t need the colour schemes,” Diamond said. “Did you find anything that would tell us what she was up to in recent weeks? Diary, calendar, phone pad?”

“We looked, of course. I got the impression she’s organised. There’s not much lying around.”

“In other words, you didn’t find anything.”

He was confident Ingeborg had made a thorough search.

She said, “There’s an answerphone and I brought back the cassette. I’ve listened to it twice over, and I really believe there’s nothing of interest on it.”

“Address book?”

“She must have taken it with her.”

“Computer, then?”

“There’s one in the office, and she had a laptop as well, because we found the user’s guide. I didn’t attempt to look at the computer. I arranged for Clive to collect it.”

Clive was the whizzkid who handled all computer queries at the Bath nick. He would go through the files and extract anything of importance. Presumably Emma had written reports on previous cases. With luck, there might be e-mail correspondence about the new investigation.

“Is that it, then?” he asked Ingeborg.

“She drives a sports car, dark green.”

“Registration? Make? Have you checked with the PNC?”

The colour came to Ingeborg’s cheeks. “Bognor are onto it. They expect to trace it down there.”

“I don’t mind who checks so long as we’re informed. What else have you got?”

“She spends a lot on clothes. And she must be interested in golf. There was a photo of some golfer next to the computer, and it was inscribed to her. Do you play golf, guv?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you mob. It’s the high-flyers’ game, isn’t it? I’d be wearing white gloves and taking the salute at Hendon.”

He summed up by handing out duties. Ingeborg was to get onto Clive for a speedy report on the contents of the computer. She would also make contact with the sister in South Africa. Leaman would set up a mini-incident room. Halliwell would see what HOLMES could deliver on serial crimes in the coastal counties of Sussex and Hampshire.

Diamond himself would get onto the man at Bramshill who kept the list of profilers. Someone at the top knew what Emma Tysoe had been up to.