‘You said you wrote about it yourself. With pictures?’
‘Some journals like to use illustrations. Some don’t.’
‘Pictures of the bones, I suppose. Any of the dig in progress?’
‘Several.’
‘But you wouldn’t have captioned them with the names of the diggers?’
He looked pained by this suggestion. ‘These are professional journals. The finds are significant, not the finders.’
Hen couldn’t resist commenting, ‘But I dare say your name appeared.’
‘Well, it was my project.’
‘You see why I’m so interested?’ she said, still trying for cooperation. ‘Selsey was where the mammoth was found and where your wife was murdered. We don’t know why she came back twenty years later. What time of year was the dig?’
‘End of September.’
‘Exactly twenty years on.’
‘Not significant, in my opinion.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Hen said. ‘A connection is possible, and it’s my job to examine it.’
Sentinel was unimpressed. ‘Strictly speaking, the anniversary may have been September, but scarcely anybody in a university is up then. The session begins in October, and we’re so busy then that a special lecture would be out of the question, I can assure you. And another thing: Merry was only eighteen in nineteen-eighty-seven. I’m damned sure she wasn’t having affairs at that age.’
‘I’m not suggesting that. But if one of the team from way back resurfaced and got in touch, mightn’t Meredith have thought it fun to revisit the place?’
‘She had the opportunity in June when I gave the lecture.’
‘That was Brighton. Selsey was where it happened.’
‘She said nothing to me about going back there.’
‘You must have talked about the dig from time to time.’
‘It came up sometimes.’
‘Are you sure she didn’t keep up with any of your team?’
‘She kept up with me.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘Touche.’
‘Nobody else?’
‘I wouldn’t know unless she told me, and she didn’t.’
‘Someone must have remembered her. I expect the dig was memorable for the people who took part.’
‘Oh, you can be sure of that,’ he said with another rush of hubris. ‘Not many undergraduates get such an opportunity.’
‘You must have been quite young yourself.’
‘To be leading such a dig? Twenty-five.’
‘Admired by all those little girls in bikinis? I’m sure you were.’
Too obvious. He put up the shutters. ‘You’re straying into fantasy here, I think.’ He drew the chair back from the table. ‘I need to go now.’
‘When we first discussed this, you said Meredith was one of your team, a fresher. You were very clear about what happened.’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘Right. You said you noticed her, but that wasn’t the start of your romance. That came later. Is that still your position on this?’
‘Of course. I’d have been a total idiot to risk my career going to bed with a student. It was a no-no. Didn’t I make it clear that we linked up later, after she graduated?’
‘I believe you did.’ And Hen was forced to admit to herself that his claim rang true. This calculating man was too ambitious to have risked a scandal
In this particular contest, he’d taken some hard knocks and survived them, but Hen, too, had gone through a shaky period. Towards the end, Sentinel had recovered some punching power. Even so, he wasn’t behaving with total openness. Hen suspected strongly that he was still holding something back. She’d run out of steam and he was about to escape.
It was infuriating.
‘Gary will show you to the station.’
Jo needed to prove beyond doubt that somebody other than Jake had carried out the drownings. After a light salad lunch she made herself a strong espresso. Then she planned the rest of her day. First, she faced facts. Jake was the prime suspect for the murder on the beach. The police had got onto him almost from the start, influenced by his previous offence. They’d stacked up plenty of circumstantial evidence against him.
But this wasn’t an isolated killing. Fiona had been drowned in a similar way. The police had made it their job to find some link between Jake and Fiona and now they’d got it. He’d almost certainly met her at the print works. But unless they knew something that hadn’t yet come out, they were still some way from proving he’d murdered her.
Jo had an alternative theory. If you took the killing of Fiona in isolation there was an obvious suspect in Cartwright, her boss and the man she was last seen with. Fiona had set out to seduce him and succeeded, but only up to a point. Obviously she’d told Cartwright her terms: a top job and maybe even a seat on the board. He’d seen that he’d been set up and must have got angry. She’d died and he’d disappeared. Surely the police must have deduced this much?
The next, more difficult, step was to see if Cartwright could have murdered Meredith as well. Was he one of those unassuming men who live quiet, ordered lives and turn out to be sociopaths? Was the drowning on Selsey beach a trial run for Fiona’s murder? Or was there a connection with Meredith that no one had yet discovered?
She needed to know more about Cartwright and it was obvious who to ask.
Time to mend fences.
She called the print works and got through to Gemma. The first contact was terse and untypical, but was bound to be after the hard words they’d exchanged the evening before. ‘Thanks for that message you left about Jake. I’m sorry to say he got arrested again.’
‘Poor old darling,’ Gemma said, trying her best and not quite getting there. ‘I saw it coming. We had the plod here on the case at the crack of dawn. They took a copy of the list of clients and it was as certain as death and taxes they’d discover Jake had been here in August and must have met Fiona. Sweetie, you must be gutted.’
‘I’m sure he’s innocent.’
‘Goes without saying,’
‘I’ve got to help him, Gem.’
‘I’m with you on that-but what can anyone do if the police have got him?’
‘I’ve got some ideas. Will you help me?’
‘How?’
‘I’d like to come out and see you?’
‘Aren’t you at work?’
‘I took the day off.’
‘Shoot right over, then. You’re not interrupting much. I’ve been doing my toenails.’
The last time she’d come to Kleentext, it was at Gemma’s request. This was so different.
They embraced in a token way.
‘I was still in shock last night,’ Jo said. ‘I’m sorry about some of the things I said.’
‘And I was out of order, forcing my way in like that,’ Gemma told her. ‘Pax? Put it there.’ She held up her hand for a high five that Jo was pleased to complete. ‘So what are we going to do to help Jake?’
‘Basically, find out who really did the drownings.’
‘Okay.’
‘And your boss is the main contender.’
‘Wow! Tell me more.’ Gemma gestured to Jo to sit down while she perched herself on her desk not a yard away.
After Jo had laid out her theory she added, ‘So you see, I’ve got to find a link to the drowning on the beach. There’s no question that this was a double killing. This is where I need your help.’
‘And you’ll get it if I can think of a damned thing,’ Gemma said. ‘At this moment I can’t. It’s not as if the dead woman was one of our clients.’
‘It won’t be as obvious as that,’ Jo said. ‘How much do you know about Mr Cartwright’s life outside here?’
‘Only bits. The divorce happened yonks ago, so I doubt if that has any bearing. He lived at Apuldram and grew roses. Sometimes came in with a rosebud in his buttonhole. He fancied himself as a fashion object, I think, what with the dicky-bows and the brothel creepers. He was way off track.’
&n
bsp; ‘Was he bitter to women?’
‘Because of the divorce? I don’t think so. Not that you’d notice, anyway. He acted the gent, smiled and put on the charm, like I told you. Mind, when you visit a house you don’t ask to see the cesspit.’
‘Did he go to university?’
‘Never mentioned it.’ Gemma raised a finger. ‘Ah, you’re thinking they could have met as students. Well, I doubt it. I always thought Cartwright left school early to join the printing trade and worked his way up the ladder. Give him his due, he knew every bit of the biz.’
‘How about the marriage? Did he talk about that?’
‘Not to me, poppet. I’m sorry. I’m not being helpful. How would the marriage make a difference anyway?’
‘If his ex was a friend of Meredith.’
‘I see.’ But there wasn’t much enthusiasm in the way Gemma spoke. She hesitated and then said with a tentative smile, ‘Jo, are we in danger of clutching at straws?’
Jo nodded. It was fair comment. ‘The thing is, I never met the man and you only knew him as your boss. There’s a lot more of his life we know nothing about. Did he keep any personal items in the office?’
‘Sorry to disappoint. The police took all his stuff away last week. The drawers of his desk, files, a couple of photos, even the calendar off the wall. They had the hard disk out of his computer. Go in and look if you like, but I don’t think you’ll find anything.’
Jo sighed. This had been the key part of her plan.
‘At least it shows they’re not ignoring him,’ Gemma added.
‘Do you think they searched his house as well?’
‘It would make sense, wouldn’t it?’
‘Did they say anything about a search?’
‘To me?’ Gemma shook her head.
There was a moment of silence while each of them wrestled with her conscience. Then Jo said, ‘Are you up for it?’
‘If you are.’
Apuldram was an ancient shrunken hamlet a ten-minute drive away, fringing the Fishbourne Channel immediately south of Chichester in an undeveloped area designated as of outstanding scenic interest. The A27 bypass had effectively cut it off from the city. Known for its rose garden and the Crown and Anchor Inn at Dell Quay, it was not a bad place to have a pad, as Gemma remarked.
Jo had always believed in being open with her friends and she wanted to clear the air with Gemma, so as soon as they drove off, she said, ‘I’d better tell you, Gem. I’ve thought about Rick’s story and I’ve got serious doubts.’
Gemma said in a subdued voice, ‘Go on.’
‘Well, I wonder if he said he’d killed Mr Cartwright just to impress you, almost as an extension of the joking we did about it. The thing is, Rick is serious-minded and when he says something it doesn’t come out as wacky. He doesn’t do wacky.’
‘That’s for sure,’ Gemma said.
‘So I can’t help thinking he got himself into a situation he couldn’t find a way out of. He made this claim in such a serious way that you believed him-and so did I when he repeated it to me-and he couldn’t go back and say it was all made up.’
‘You mean because I had sex with him?’
‘Well… yes.’
‘I told you how it happened, and it was true,’ Gemma said. ‘It blew my mind when he said he’d murdered Cartwright for real. All the talk about totalling him had been meant in fun, like you’re saying. I was really scared, and I felt responsible. He’d never have done it without me opening my big mouth. So when he said the next bit, about doing the perfect murder and making every trace disappear, I can’t describe the weight that was lifted from me. Okay, it was still a nightmare, but we’d got away with it. So we shagged like the only two bunnies who made it across the motorway, and that’s the truth of it.’
‘Do you see where I’m coming from?’ Jo said. ‘It was your first time with Rick, right? It was a big deal for him.’
‘Better be.’ Gemma laughed, and it cleared the air a little.
‘And then-being Rick-he can’t tell you it was all made up.’
‘Really?’ Gemma scraped her fingers through her hair and pulled some across her mouth.
‘In his eyes, he’s conned you. He didn’t mean to, but that’s how it worked out. So he can’t bring himself to tell you none of it was true because he’s afraid you’ll slap his face and tell him to get the hell out of your life.’
‘Which I might.’
‘The thing is, Cartwright vanished, and as long as he stays vanished, Rick can stick to his story. Mind he’s not exactly shouting it from the rooftops. He didn’t want me to know until you pushed him to tell me.’
‘So I did…’ She was shaking her head. ‘Poor guy. I never thought. Jo, you’re brilliant. A mind-reader. I’m sure you’re right. It never happened and I feel so much better.’
Inside herself Jo knew she shouldn’t really take the credit. Jake had unravelled Rick’s lie, but there were times in life when silence was the right option.
Gemma started singing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,’ and Jo joined in until they ran out of lines they remembered.
‘There’s only one thing,’ Gemma said finally.
‘What’s that?’
‘Whatever happened to Mr Cartwright?’
NINETEEN
‘What’s your take on Dr Sentinel?’ Hen asked Gary when he got back to the police station.
‘Shifty as a shithouse rat, guv.’
She smiled. ‘You don’t have to hold back. Anything in particular?’
‘What stood out is the way he talked about his wife. The first time we met him he didn’t give a hint she was playing around. I mean, you asked him if the marriage was in difficulty and he practically took a swipe at you.’
‘Stay with the facts, Gary. He said my question was in appalling bad taste. We’ve got it on tape.’
‘Yes, and today he says she’d shag anything that moved. Sorry, that’s over the top again. I can’t stand the guy.’
‘That’s beginning to come through.’
‘He’s a bilge-artist, guv. If he was really any use in his job he’d be a professor by now, not a bloody lecturer. On the telly I’ve seen professors half his age.’
‘Concentrate on the case. Did anything in his statements strike a false note?’
‘He did his best to cover up the mistress in Helsinki.’
‘True.’ Hen took the card from her pocket and reminded herself of the name. ‘Or was that all a bluff?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I wonder if he steered us down that line of questioning.’
Gary frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘Maybe Outi doesn’t exist.’
His eyes gleamed like new coins. ‘If she doesn’t, he’s got about nineteen days to account for.’
‘Nineteen days when he could have been back in England murdering his wife and the other woman. We checked if he flew from St Petersburg to London and drew a blank. We’d better see if he went by way of Helsinki, or any other airport in the region. It’s feasible.’
‘Mightn’t it be quicker to check whether Outi is a real person?’
‘The Finn fatale? Yes, you can do that.’
‘Do I get a trip to Helsinki?’
‘On the budget we’re given? You’re an optimist. A phonecall, Gary. A phonecall to the Helsinki police. Now I must see how Stella’s been getting on with the tree-hugger. First I owe myself a smoke.’
She found Stella at her desk in the incident room and learned that Jake was not co-operating. ‘He’s still in a strop about the helicopter.’
‘At least he’s saying something.’
‘A silent strop.’
‘He’s right to be angry,’ Hen said in a rare tone of regret. ‘I wish I hadn’t used the thing. It was the dogs that found him, not the chopper.’
‘You weren’t to know that, guv.’
‘But, Stell, I’ve got a conscience, too. I care about the world we’re destroying and polluting. I ha
te to think of the rainforest being chainsawed by loggers. I’ve got my own orangutan I sponsor. And then at the first opportunity of a ride in a bloody helicopter I’m there, causing havoc and destruction in a nature reserve. I should be ashamed and I am.’
‘I don’t suppose you did too much damage.’
‘Where is he now-in the cells?’
‘Interview Room Two.’
‘Well, I’m choked about what happened, but let’s see if I can get one bird to sing again, eh?’
Jake had slumped in the chair and appeared to be asleep when the two detectives went in.
Hen leaned across the table and touched his arm.
His eyes opened, saw her and glowered.
‘If you think I’m going to apologise for this morning,’ she began, and then paused before adding, ‘you’re right. I should have thought about the damage a noisy whirlwind of a machine can do to habitats. My decision, my mistake. Without it we’d have taken longer to pull you in, but that’s the way I should have gone about it. I was out of order and I’m sorry.’
He remained silent, but the expression in his eyes changed from hostility to suspicion to surprise.
‘Like you, I have to work for a living,’ Hen carried on, ‘and I hope you can respect that, just as I respect you for standing up and telling me what a barbarian I am.’ She let that sink in before saying, ‘You know why we arrested you. More questions. But this is another chance for you to get a word in. Or two. Or three.’
He didn’t appreciate the attempt to humour him. She nodded to Stella to start the tape and speak the official preamble.
When it was done, Hen spread her hands and said, ‘We know who you are and by now I reckon you know us, but the stupid tape machine can’t remember squat.’
Still no reaction.
She sat back in her chair and studied his face for some time before saying, ‘It was plucky of your friend Jo to sit in the inflatable wearing your jacket and hood. Comical, too. I was in the helicopter and she fooled me. I felt sure it was you. At the time I was all for taking the chopper down to about thirty feet, churning up the water and tipping it over. Big guy like you wouldn’t be in trouble, I thought. It can’t be deep out there. Good thing the pilot didn’t approve. We don’t know if Jo can swim.’
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