The Last Detective

Chapter Four

LILIAN BARGAINER, QC, DISPOSED OF John Wigfull next morning with appropriate irony.

'Chief Inspector, the entire literary establishment salutes you today for recovering the missing letters of Miss Jane Austen. The newspapers are bracketing your name with Sherlock Holmes and Miss Marple. Pray, how did you make this happy discovery? Was it, to paraphrase Miss Austen herself, the result of previous study, or the impulse of the moment? Was it sense, or sensibility, that guided you to the hiding place?'

Wigfull frowned and said, Tm afraid I don't follow the question.'

'I'm surprised it causes any difficulty to a man of your acuteness. Let me put it another way. Who tipped you off?'

He swayed back like a boxer. Tm unable to answer that.'

'Somebody did, presumably. Surely you didn't order the search of the house yesterday morning on a whim?'

'Well, no.'

'So…?'

Wigfull passed the tip of his tongue slowly around his lips.

After an appreciable pause, Mrs Bargainer said, 'Do you understand what I am asking this time?'

'Yes.'

'Then you really must give an answer.'

He said softly, "There was a phone call -'

'Speak up, Chief Inspector.'

'There was a phone call to the main police station in Bath late the previous evening. The caller rang off before we could get his name.'

'So you were tipped off. You didn't tell us this in your statement yesterday.'

'I didn't consider that it was needed at that stage.'

'I'm pleased to hear it. I really didn't have you down as a glory-hunter. Now we know. An anonymous caller. Do I have it correctly now?'

'Yes.'

Mrs Bargainer drew her gown aside and rested her hands on her hips.. 'Let us consider another point. When you gave us this startling information yesterday, we were supposed to deduce, were we not, that the defendant, Mrs Didrikson, had obtained the letters and hidden them in her dressing table herself?'

'I simply reported what I found,' Wigfull said guardedly.

'And – you can tell us now – were you surprised to have made such a discovery? After all, you had searched the house from top to bottom on a previous occasion.'

"We must have overlooked it the first time. As I explained -'

'Oh, don't sell yourself short, Chief Inspector. Have you considered the possibility that someone entered the house some time in recent days and planted those letters there?'

Wigfull looked across to the table where the prosecution team were seated, but no help was forthcoming. 'I don't think that's likely. The place has been kept locked.'

'So would it surprise you to be informed that the sash window in the sitting room at the back has recently been forced, and the fitting repaired and screwed back into place?'

'Is that true?' said the hapless Wigfull.

'That is my information. You are the detective, Mr Wigfull. I suggest you investigate. Your findings will interest us all, as will your deductions afterwards. We accept that your statement yesterday was made in good faith. However, craving the court's indulgence, I venture to describe the testimony as somewhat coloured by pride and prejudice. No further questions, my lord.'

The judge looked faintly amused. He leaned forward, his chin propped on his right hand. 'Sir Job?'

Some hurried shuffling of papers at the prosecution table underlined their confusion. 'At this point, m'lord, we propose to move on to the chief inspector's evidence-in-chief.'

'Then I suggest you do.'

The next hour and fifty minutes was an exercise in damage limitation, a painstaking recapitulation of the police investigation. By switching back to the discovery of the body in Chew Valley Lake and plodding systematically through the process that had led to Dana's indictment, Sir Job contrived point by point to rehabilitate Wigfull as a credible witness.

To Wigfull's credit, his testimony was equal to the challenge. He spoke with restored assurance, making a point of facing the jury as he gave his responses, and his language was simple and direct. He didn't hesitate again. He must have been aware that Diamond was watching from the public gallery, yet he described the first phases of the inquiry, when Diamond had been in charge, with impeccable recall – the search of the lakeside and the delay in identifying the body; the television and press appeals for information; and how Professor Jackman had eventually come forward and identified the body. Sir Job took him through the search of John Brydon House, the interviews with Jackman and the transatlantic phone conversation with the American academic, Dr Junker (an affidavit from Junker had been filed by the prosecution). Wigfull explained how checks had been made at University College and with Air France that established an alibi for Jackman, and how the focus of the investigation had then switched to Dana.

'What happened when you went to interview her?'

'She ran out of the back of the house. I gave chase, but she got into the Mercedes and drove away. It happened that she met another car in a narrow road near the house -met it head-on. There was a slight collision.'

'She was unhurt?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And did she admit to running away from the police?'

'Her words were, "I was trying to escape."'

So it went on through the morning, this process of assembling a case that would allow no reasonable doubt. Sir Job omitted nothing. He took Wigfull through the interview of Dana and established that she had insisted she had no more to tell when in reality there had been much more to come. He plotted the stages of her disclosures, showing how she'd eventually admitted to having visited the Jackman's house on the morning of the murder and had seen Geraldine lying dead in bed. Finally, he testified that when the reports had come back from the forensic lab confirming that the body had been placed in Dana's car boot, he had formally charged her with murder in the presence of her solicitor.

It was 12.50 when Sir Job concluded the examination-in-chief. The court adjourned for lunch. Dana, ashen after the morning's ordeal, was led down to the cells.

Siddons, her solicitor, was waiting for Diamond at the foot of the stairs from the public gallery. 'Do you have a few minutes? Mrs Bargainer would so like to meet you.'

'Her memory can't be too hot,' Diamond commented. 'She cross-examined me in this court six months ago.'

They invited him to join them for lunch across the road. Out of her wig and gown, Lilian Bargainer passed for one of the mainstays of the lounge bar, drinking dry sherry from a schooner and dragging at a cigarette that she held between thumb and forefinger. 'God, what a production old Claws is making of it,' she said. 'He's working on the principle that if Wigfull talks for long enough the jury will forget the balls-up of the missing letters. Never fear – I'll remind 'em.' She gripped Diamond's sleeve. 'Peter, old sport, I owe you one for that. What are you drinking?'

'Orange juice,' said Diamond, tapping his head-bandage.

She pushed a ten-pound note at Siddons. 'Be an angel. Get one for yourself. I mean a beer or something. And see what food there is.' Alone at the table with Diamond, she said, 'I want to tap your brain.'

'Gently, if you must.'

'I cross-examine Johnny Wigfull this afternoon. I intend to keep it short and devastating, but I mustn't miss anything. What are the weak points in the evidence?'

'I wouldn't trouble with the weak points if I were you,' Diamond told her. 'Go for the strong one.'

'The body in the boot?'

'Right. If you hadn't suggested this meeting, I was going to whisper in Siddons' ear.'

'Ah – so you know something?'

'I wouldn't put it so strongly as that – particularly after brain surgery. I don't know how reliable the little grey cells are, but they've been working overtime to catch up.'

He wasn't really underselling the importance of what he was about to tell her. He quietly relished this moment as much as he relished the sensation to come in court. For all her hail-fellow manner, Lilian Bargainer had a shrewd brain. She would appreciate this. She would understand its significance, a triumph of canny detection over the men in white coats.

'Get to the point, my love. Time's at a premium.'

'If I'm right about this, there's a detail – an important detail-you can check with your client. She won't appreciate the significance, by the way.'

'She's in no shape of mind to appreciate anything, sport, but I'm willing to try.'

'Ask her to cast her mind back to that morning she took Matthew up to John Brydon House and saw the blond man walking out on Geraldine.'

'The pusher – Andy Coventry?'

'Yes. In her statement, she told me he appeared familiar at the time, but she couldn't place him. I think we may be able to refresh her memory. Ask her if she could have seen him swimming.'

'Swimming? You'd better explain, you cryptic old bugger.'

Wigfull looked apprehensive as he entered the witness box again. With good reason. His rehabilitation had owed everything to Sir Job Mogg. Lilian Bargainer wouldn't be wearing velvet gloves for the cross-examination. Up in the public gallery, however, Peter Diamond was in a forgiving mood. The last words he had spoken to Mrs Bargainer were, 'Wigfull's not a bad detective. He's wrong, but he's not bad. You don't have to wipe the floor with him.'

She was on her feet. 'Chief Inspector, I shan't detain you long. You've given the court a copious account of your investigation, but you neglected to mention that the late Mrs Geraldine Jackman was a user of cocaine. Did you not consider this of relevance?'

'It came to our notice only recently,' Wigfull stated with a smoothness suggesting he had anticipated the question.

'But it doesn't affect the present case?'

'That is correct.'

'That is your judgement.' She turned towards the jury and rolled her eyes upwards as if in despair of the police. Then she swung back to Wigfull. 'There is one other matter I should like to clarify, and that concerns the interrogation of the accused, Mrs Didrikson. She was taken by ex-Superintendent Diamond and yourself to Bath Central Police Station for questioning on Tuesday, 10 October. Am I right? You may refer to your notes. I want to get this clear.'

Wigfull produced his notebook and thumbed through it.'10 October. Yes.'

'She was detained overnight? Is that correct?'

'Yes.'

'And on 11 October her car was collected for forensic examination?'

'Yes – but with her permission.'

'Granted. Your personal conduct towards Mrs Didrikson cannot be faulted. I believe you went so far as to notify her employer, Mr Buckle, that she would not be able to drive him in the morning.'

Wigfull agreed modestly, 'That's true. I did.'

'A very considerate thing to have done, if I may say so,' Mrs Bargainer complimented him.

Plainly, Wigful saw an opportunity here. 'Yes, but there was another reason for doing it. I wanted to check with the employer, Mr Buckle, whether the accused had reported for work on the day of the murder. And she hadn't.' He glanced towards Sir Job and was rewarded with a nod of acknowledgement for scoring a point under cross-examination.

'So when did you speak to Mr Buckle?' Mrs Bargainer asked.

'Some time between eight and nine in the evening.'

'The evening of 10 October?'

'Yes.'

'Thank you, Chief Inspector.'

There was a moment's hiatus before the court fully grasped that Mrs Bargainer had finished the cross-examination. The whole exchange had taken less than two minutes.

Wigfull looked as bemused as anyone.

The judge asked whether the prosecution were proposing to re-examine. They were not. Wigfull was told to step down. Sir Job and his team had been thrown again. The disarray at their table was all too apparent.

'Are you calling another witness?' the judge enquired.

'Directly, m'lord,' said Sir Job, scattering paper across the floor.

The witness was Stanley Buckle, dressed for his appearance in a three-piece dove-grey suit and an Institute of Directors tie. The usual rosebud was missing from his buttonhole, possibly in recognition of the solemn occasion. Once in the box, he reinforced the punctilious image by making a performance of putting on half-glasses to read the oath. He exuded importance; it was in the tilt of his chin and the set of his shoulders.

Sir Job's junior, by comparison a man with a poor posture and an unfortunate high-pitched voice that would probably ensure that he remained a junior for ever, was assigned with the undemanding task of establishing how the Mercedes car came to be in the prisoner's possession.

'She was the driver for my company, Realbrew Ales,' Stanley explained.

'She kept the car overnight?'

'Yes. There was an understanding that she could use it privately outside office hours provided that journeys were entered into the log.'

'All journeys were entered into a log?'

'That's what I said.'

'To your knowledge, Mr Buckle, did any person other than Mrs Didrikson ever drive that car?'

'Not a soul. It was new when we supplied her with it.'

The log – is it kept in the car?'

'That's the drill. We check it at the end of the month and enter the mileage in our ledger.'

'Did you know that the log was not in the car when it was taken for forensic examination?'

'I heard about that. We made a search at Realbrew just in case, but I didn't expect to find it. Dana got it back from the office on 1 October. It should have been in the car, as I believe she told the police.' Buckle glanced across at Dana for confirmation and she actually gave a nod. He added gratuitously, 'I'd like to have it put on record that she was a respected member of my staff.'

'We are obliged to you.'

When Lilian Bargainer rose to cross-examine, nothing in her manner suggested that this would be anything but a formality.

'Mr Buckle, you described yourself as the Managing Director of Realbrew Ales, but you have a number of other business interests, don't you?'

'I didn't think you needed to know. I'm a supplier of novelty goods to stationery shops and other outlets. I'm also on the boards of several companies in the entertainment business.'

'Novelty goods?'

'Toys, Christmas crackers, metal puzzles – you name it

'You import these items, presumably?'

'Well, yes.' Buckle answered in a way that showed he was more interested in talking about other matters.

'From the Far East?'

'In the main.'

The judge, too, was uneasy and signalled it by resting his hands on the bench and leaning back stiffly against his padded chair.

Lilian Bargainer made no concessions. The toys. Would they include such items as miniature teddy bears from Taiwan?'

'Certainly.'

'Last summer you asked Mrs Didrikson to collect a consignment from Southampton Docks.'

'That's right.'

'She told you, I believe, that she was stopped on the way back by two policemen in plain clothes who searched the cartons containing the bears. Is that so?'

'That's what she told me.'

The judge leaned forward to interrupt. 'Mrs Bargainer, I am trying to see the pertinence of these questions.'

'The matter has direct relevance to the case, my lord, as I shall presently demonstrate. Mr Buckle, you're obviously – literally, in fact – a man of the world. You must have divined the reason why the police were interested in this consignment. Toys from the Far East, collected by a company driver from the docks.'

'They were clean,' said Buckle, affronted. 'Teddy bears – for charity. They were handed out to kids at Longleat.'

'So it emerged,' Mrs Bargainer conceded. 'But clearly in the view of those policemen there were grounds for suspicion that you were importing drugs.'

Sir Job bounded up to interrupt. 'M'lord, I can't believe my ears. This is outrageous. It's a blatant attack on the reputation of the witness. Nothing in Mr Buckle's testimony can warrant such character assassination.'

'Both counsel will approach the bench,' the judge instructed them.

From the gallery, Diamond strained to overhear the earnest argument that ensued. If the judge ruled in favour of the prosecution now, Mrs Bargainer's task would be next to impossible. In the dock, Dana nervously repinned a strand of hair. Whether she fully understood the significance of this moment was unclear, but she could not have failed to sense the tension in the court.

After almost ten minutes of wrangling, counsel returned to their positions. Sir Job was crimson, Lilian Bargainer still serene.

'My apologies, Mr Buckle – for the delay,' she resumed. 'I have been asked to come quickly to the point, and I shall. Is it a fact that Anton Coventry, known as Andy, is an associate of yours?'

Buckle's hands gripped the ledge of the witness box. 'I've met a man of that name, if that's what you mean.'

'I mean a little more than that. Have you entertained him at your house?'

'Well, yes.'

'He swam in your pool on at least one occasion?'

'Yes.'

'Doubtless you've heard that he is at present in custody on several charges, including offences relating to the supply of cocaine?'

'I read something about it in the paper.' Buckle was unconvincing. It was too late now to distance himself from his odious friend.

'Did you know that Andy Coventry is alleged to have supplied cocaine to the late Mrs Jackman?'

Buckle was silent.

'Come now. It is public knowledge, is it not?' Lilian Bargainer probed.

'Why ask me, then?' said Buckle.

'Why not admit it, then?' she rapped back. 'We're getting closer to the truth, aren't we? The whole truth that you promised to tell, Mr Buckle. I put it to you that you came under police suspicion as an importer of illegal substances. My client's trip to Southampton at your behest to collect the teddy bears was just a charade, a diversionary tactic to spike their guns, was it not? How interesting that when she returned to your house at the end of the day you were entertaining, among others, Andy Coventry.'

Sir Job rose to protest that the charges against Coventry were sub judice and the imputation was misleading, and Mrs Bargainer withdrew her last comment.

'But you agree with my account of the facts?' she pressed Buckle.

'The whole thing is irrelevant,' he said without conviction. 'I'm here to talk about the car.'

Mrs Bargainer smiled. 'Very well, let's talk about the car. The Mercedes 190E 2.6 Automatic that you bought when Mrs Didrikson joined Realbrew Ales. You bought two cars of that model for the company at that time, didn't you?'

'Yes.'

'One for your personal use and the other for Mrs Didrikson's?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' She beamed at Buckle; he didn't smile back. 'I'm going to ask about the use you made of the cars, notably on Monday, 11 September and Tuesday, 10 October last year. Am I making myself clear, Mr Buckle? The first date was that of Mrs Jackman's murder. We have already heard from you that Mrs Didrikson did not report for work that day, so presumably you had to drive yourself about?'

'Yes.'

'And ever since Tuesday, 10 October, you have been without a chauffeur, because that's the day Mrs Didrikson was taken in for questioning by the police. When were you informed?'

'I can't recall.'

'Chief Inspector Wigfull testified that he phoned you between eight and nine that evening, 10 October.'

Buckle shrugged. 'Fair enough.'

'I must insist on a better answer than that. Do you recall being telephoned?'

'All right. It was some time that evening. I didn't check my watch.'

'It's important, you see, because there was a delay of some twelve hours before the Mercedes Mrs Didrikson drove was collected for forensic examination. The car stood outside her house for twelve hours. When it was collected, we now know, the impossible was shown to have happened. The scientists proved with their genetic fingerprinting that the body of Geraldine Jackman had been in the boot of that car. I say it was impossible because Mrs Didrikson has told me so, and I believe her.'

Buckle stared rigidly ahead like a guardsman being bawled at by a drill sergeant. Actually Lilian Bargainer had not raised her voice one decibel.

The skill of this cross-examination was profoundly satisfying to Peter Diamond. Compelled to hear his own deductions voiced by proxy, he was locked in to every word the barrister uttered.

'I put it to you that the impossible can only be explained this way. When you got the call from Chief Inspector Wigfull, you decided on a plan to confuse the police and divert suspicion from yourself. For it was you, wasn't it, Mr Buckle, who deposited the body of Geraldine Jackman in Chew Valley Lake?'

Nobody protested and Buckle made no pretence of a response. A paralysing curiosity gripped the court as Mrs Bargainer talked on. 'On the night of 11 September you drove there with the dead woman in the boot of your Mercedes. And when, a month later, you heard that Dana Didrikson was being held overnight, you thought of a way of confirming the police in their suspicion that she was the murderer. The spare keys for her Mercedes were held by your company. You drove up to Lyncombe where the vehicle was parked. You opened the boot and undipped the fabric lining.'

Buckle's eyes flicked towards the jury, as if in search of a doubter. The looks that met his were not encouraging.

'Are you listening, Mr Buckle? You undipped the lining. Then you removed the lining from the boot of your own car, the lining the body had lain on, and fitted it into the other car. Do you deny it?'

Peter Diamond so completely identified with the question that he started to say aloud, 'Speak up'. He clapped a hand to his mouth.

Buckle was saying, 'You've got me totally wrong. I didn't kill Gerry Jackman. Before God I didn't.'

'You put her in the lake.'

He hesitated.

'You put her in the lake,' Mrs Bargainer insisted. This had become a contest of wills.

Buckle stared around the court. In the dock, Dana had put her fingers to her throat.

'Do you deny it?' Lilian Bargainer demanded.

He capitulated. 'AH right, I did. I put her in the lake.' As a murmur from all sides of the court broke the tension, he added more loudly, 'But I didn't kill her.'

Mrs Bargainer frowned, put her hand to her face and let the fingers slide down to the point of her chin in an attitude of incomprehension. 'You're going to have to help me, Mr Buckle. What you are claiming now is curious, if not incredible. Let's have this clear. On the night of 11 September you drove to Chew Valley Lake with the body of Mrs Jackman and deposited it in the water, and yet you didn't kill her. You insist on that?'

'Yes.'

'Why? Why behave in such an extraordinary fashion?'

He was silent.

'You must explain, Mr Buckle, you really must if we are to believe you.'

His mouth remained closed.

Mrs Bargainer said, 'Let's approach this another way. You didn't kill her. Did you know she had been murdered?'

'No,' said Buckle, freed from his constraint. 'That's the point.'

'Good. I'm beginning to understand. You found her dead, is that right?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't know she'd been murdered, is that right?'

'Yes.'

'You thought she'd overdosed.'

'Yes – I mean no.' Buckle stared about him. He'd been snared, and he knew it.

Lilian Bargainer said without even a hint of irony, 'You said yes and you meant no. Which is it? I put it to you that your associate Andy Coventry was supplying Mrs Jackman with cocaine that he got from you. You're the importer and he was the pusher. Am I right?'

Sir Job sprang up, but the judge gestured to him to be seated.

'You had better consider your position, Mr Buckle,' said Lilian Bargainer. 'It's too late now to deny your involvement in drugs. If you do, you lay yourself open to suspicion of murder. Which is it to be?'

Buckle swayed slightly in the witness box, sighed heavily, and then the words tumbled from him. 'What happened was this. Come September, Andy bunked off to Scotland on some course. He was her supplier, like you said. I got word from my contacts that she was shouting for the stuff. She was making trouble about Andy being unavailable. Big trouble. She was threatening to blow the whistle on us. So I went to see her on the Monday.'

'Monday, 11 September?'

'Yes.'

'What time?'

'About lunchtime. When I got no answer at the front I went round the back. The kitchen door was open. People with the habit aren't too clever about things like that. I called out and still got no anwer, so I tried upstairs. She was dead on the bed. It got to me, I can tell you, finding her like that. She's overdosed, I thought. They say cocaine can kill you, just the same as heroin. I could see real trouble ahead if the doctors opened her up. So I decided to move her. That's what I did. Carried her downstairs and put her in the car. That night I dropped her in the lake.' He closed his eyes and added, 'I was hoping that would be the end of it.'

'And the Jane Austen letters?'

'They were stuffed down the front of her nightdress, like she was hiding them. I thought it must be something she meant to trade for the coke, so I took it. I didn't even look at them till later.'

'And what happened when the body was found in the lake?'

'I was really scared – but not a word was said about drugs. She'd been smothered, the papers said. I realized what I must have done – I'd moved a murdered corpse. The next thing, they arrested Dana – my driver – and it was all too close to home for my liking. I could be done as an accessory. So when the chance came, I switched the linings, just like you said. I only did it to cover myself. Dana had been stupid enough to kill her, I thought, so I wasn't causing her any more aggravation than she deserved.'

'What happened to the log?'

'I burnt it, obviously.'

'Obviously?'

'Well, every trip was accounted for. If the police had seen it, they'd have found out that her car wasn't used to move the body, wouldn't they?'

'And presumably you falsified the log in your car?'

He nodded. 'It's a simple matter when you're behind with the entries, as I was.' Then Stanley Buckle drooped like a bull pierced with bandilleras.

But Mrs Bargainer had another ready. 'Let's turn to something else that was brought to the court's attention. I put it to you that when you heard Coventry had been arrested, you broke into Mrs Didrikson's empty house and taped the letters into her dressing table as another diversion.'

Buckle hesitated.

'Why did you do that?' said Mrs Bargainer gently, as if he had made the admission already.

He dipped his eyes. 'As a kind of insurance. I was dead worried the drugs would come up at the trial, and they did – on the first day. So I needed to switch the interest back to the letters. I phoned the police and told them to look in the house. Until today I believed Dana was guilty. I wouldn't have done it otherwise. Have I said enough?'

'More than enough for me,' the judge acidly commented. 'Does the prosecution propose to re-examine?'

Sir Job declined. 'And in view of the testimony we have just heard, we shall not be calling any further witnesses, m'lord.'

'The prosecution case is closed?'

'Yes, m'lord.'

Up in the public gallery, Peter Diamond sat back in his chair, mentally spent.

Lillian Bargainer rose again. 'I submit, my lord, that the case we have heard from the prosecution is not strong enough to lay before the jury.'

The judge agreed and directed the jury to acquit Dana Didrikson.

Dana covered her face and sobbed.