41
‘Let’s face it, we’re too late for Martin Steel,’ John Leaman said to the rest of CID, now gathered in the incident room. ‘Going by what happened to the others, he’ll have been strangled already. He’ll be strung up overnight in some public place for the first hapless berk who comes by to discover tomorrow morning. We’ve failed him.’
‘John, that’s a load of bull,’ Halliwell said. ‘The men aren’t strangled first. Danny Geaves was hanged, and hanged at night. There’s still a chance to save this guy.’
‘Well, I could be wrong, but I know this much. The boss was down a mine all afternoon while I was above ground watching some kids kick a ball around. I’m a senior detective. I could have been better employed.’
Someone muttered in a passable imitation of Brando, ‘I could have been a contender.’
Halliwell said, ‘The boss caught up with Harry Lang.’
‘Top result!’ Leaman said with sarcasm.
‘What’s your problem with that?’
‘Turns out he’s an illegal immigrant and that’s why he scarpered when we raided the flat.’
‘So he’s an illegal. He’s still in the frame, isn’t he?’ Halliwell said. ‘Jocelyn Steel’s personal trainer and one of the last to see her alive. Has the boss given up on him?’
‘He should.’
‘Am I missing something here?’
‘Did any of the other female victims have personal trainers?’ Paul Gilbert asked, trying to be constructive.
‘Come on,’ Leaman said in the jeering tone you would only use with a rookie. ‘Delia Williamson had two kids and was working evenings as a waitress. She didn’t need to find ways of exercising. And Christine Twining had a demanding job with Marks and Spencer. Her brother-in-law told us a lunchtime walk in the park was the only exercise she got.’
‘I wouldn’t count Lang out of it until we get some forensic results,’ Halliwell said.
‘You think there’s more to him?’ Gilbert said.
‘A twenty-grand car, for starters. Where did he get that money when he’s living in community housing?’
‘Ask him when his head clears,’ Leaman said. ‘It doesn’t help us. There isn’t a profit motive in these killings.’
‘What is the motive?’ Gilbert asked.
‘If we knew that, we’d be making an arrest,’ Halliwell said.
‘We’re chasing a nutter,’ Leaman said. ‘We can forget about motive.’
Unseen by Leaman, Diamond had come in with Ingeborg at his side. ‘What’s your plan, John? Call in a shrink?’
‘It might be no bad thing.’
Halliwell rolled his eyes and looked towards Diamond. ‘Guv, I don’t know how much you heard. The thinking seems to be that Martin Steel is as good as dead already and we ought to be second-guessing where to find his body.’
‘Anyone who thinks like that had better leave now,’ Diamond said.
No one moved. No one blinked.
‘To business, then,’ Diamond said. ‘I saw Georgina earlier. Every park in the city is under surveillance tonight.’
Leaman said, ‘Bridges?’
‘What?’
‘Danny Geaves was hanged from a bridge.’
‘The plod are all over the city.’
‘You know what’ll happen? Tomorrow morning the cells will be full of rough sleepers and courting couples.’
Nobody smiled. Leaman had lost his audience.
‘What about Lang?’ Leaman said. ‘Is he in the clear?’
Diamond sidestepped that one. ‘He’s no threat to anyone where he is now. But there is a development.’ He turned to Ingeborg.
‘Tell them what you just told me.’
It was obvious to all that team spirit had sunk to a low point. Not an easy situation for Ingeborg, noted for her desire to please the boss and achieve early promotion. Her good looks simply added to the feeling that she started with an advantage. And no one would forget that she had been an investigative journalist. From their faces her colleagues might have been watching Lucrezia Borgia at a wine-tasting.
‘It may be nothing,’ she said. ‘The boss asked me to go through the filing cabinet in the Steels’ house. I was looking at some of the invoices. The fitness room was added about eighteen months ago. They installed the exercise machines and had a jacuzzi fitted.’
‘Who by?’ Halliwell said.
‘Give it a Whirl.’
‘Jesus!’
‘Nice work,’ Leaman said.
Some of the team hadn’t yet picked up the reference.
Ingeborg said, ‘Give it a Whirl is Dalton Monnington’s firm. Monnington – remember? The sales rep who dined at Tosi’s restaurant and tried to make a date with Delia Williamson.’
Leaman was not yet convinced. ‘But we went all the way to Wimbledon to interview him. The tests on his car were negative. The CCTV footage at the hotel didn’t pick him up.’
‘Doesn’t mean he’s in the clear,’ Diamond said. ‘He slipped out of the frame at a time when we were thinking Danny Geaves was Delia’s killer.’
‘He’s linked to two out of our three incidents,’ Halliwell said. ‘Let’s pull him in.’
‘Is there any connection with the other couple, the Twinings?’ Leaman asked.
‘We don’t know yet,’ Ingeborg said. ‘We haven’t had time to check. The Twinings were in the money. No reason why they shouldn’t have had a jacuzzi.’
‘We can find out,’ Diamond said. ‘Remind me where they lived.’
‘Hinton Charterhouse. John Twining was an architect and he designed it himself. All mod cons. It would be surprising if they didn’t have a pool at the very least.’
‘Check it out, Inge,’ Diamond said.
‘Now?’
‘Get the present owners on the phone.’
She looked bemused. ‘Do we know who they are?’
‘Initiative test,’ Diamond said and turned to Halliwell. ‘I want a check on Monnington’s present whereabouts. Is he back home in Wimbledon or on the road? Get onto Wimbledon CID and ask them to visit the house.’
The incident room was recharged. The mood was up now. Phones were in use, files being retrieved. Dalton Monnington was hot again.
Ingeborg swiftly tracked down the current owners of Longsword Lodge, where the Twinings had lived. They told her that the property included a swimming pool, built when the Twinings had lived there, but no jacuzzi.
‘Back to square one,’ Leaman said.
‘It doesn’t mean there was no contact,’ Ingeborg said. She was flushed with excitement and wasn’t giving up. ‘Monnington could have been to the place and tried to sell them one. A big, modern house is the sort he would target. If they chose not to buy he would still have met them.’
Paul Gilbert said, ‘If they refused to buy, he’d have even more reason to kill them.’
‘Buy one of my jacuzzis or else,’ Leaman said with a curl of the lip. ‘If that was the motive, there’d be dead couples all over the West Country.’
‘Back off, John,’ Diamond said. ‘This is the best lead we’ve had. Ingeborg, go on the internet and see what you can discover about Give it a Whirl. We may need to contact someone tonight.’ Like Ingeborg, he wasn’t discouraged. Investigations don’t often pan out so obviously. Her point was a good one. Monnington may well have met the Twinings as a would-be salesman.
A call came in from a Wimbledon police mobile patrol. They were at Monnington’s house and he wasn’t at home. His partner Angie Collier had told them he’d left three days ago. The couple had argued because she’d smelt perfume on the pyjamas he’d given her to wash. She’d accused him of having affairs when he was supposed to be on business trips.
‘Does she have any idea where he was heading?’ Diamond asked.
‘Hold on and I’ll ask.’ There was a pause and then: ‘She says to hell for all she cares.’
‘Great.’ Diamond turned to his team. ‘So it’s not impossible that he’s here with us in Aquae Sulis.
Inge, how are you doing?’
She had found the Give it a Whirl phone number and was trying to get through.
‘You won’t get anyone. It’s after office hours,’ Diamond said. ‘Try the Bath Hilton. These reps are creatures of habit.’
Leaman shook his head. ‘He’s not going to have Martin Steel locked in a hotel bedroom.’
‘Yes, but he needs a base. Steel could be trussed up in the boot of his car.’
Ingeborg was through to the Hilton. They told her Monnington was a regular guest, but he wasn’t in residence now and hadn’t made a reservation.
‘Nice try,’ Leaman said, meaning she’d wasted her time.
‘Do we have his mobile number?’ Halliwell asked.
‘Good suggestion. . . . No.’
‘His partner will have it.’
The sergeant in the Wimbledon police car was not overjoyed at being asked to return to Angie Collier.
Ten more minutes passed.
Wimbledon came on the line again with the number. Before disconnecting, the sergeant asked with heavy sarcasm if there was any other service they could perform for their colleagues in Bath.
Diamond tapped in Monnington’s number and put on the amplifier for everyone to listen.
‘Hi,’ a bright voice said to the whole of CID, ‘who wants me?’
Definitely Monnington, but a more bobbish Monnington than they’d encountered the last time.
‘Depends what you have to offer,’ Diamond said. ‘Where are you?’
‘Bath, my friend. The city, not the soap and water.’
‘Where exactly in Bath?’
‘Tosi’s restaurant, for an early supper.’
Creatures of habit. Diamond eyeballed the sceptic on his team.
42
Seven in the evening and Bath was empty. Only later, when the pubs spilled out and the clubbers appeared would it look like a real city. Halliwell drove his boss at speed through the streets and reached George Street before the response car they’d asked for. But the back-up wasn’t needed. Monnington was no longer there. Tosi’s had no customers when they arrived. On a table at the far end a half-finished bottle of red stood between two oval dinner plates.
The substantial owner, Giuseppe Tosi, explained in his less-than-substantial English, ‘Mr Monnington? He go. Mobile, yes, brr, brr, and he go quick. See?’ He indicated the table.
‘Which way?’ Diamond asked.
‘Scusi?’
This would have tried a patient man and Diamond wasn’t that. He stabbed his forefinger left, towards Gay Street, and held out his hands, Italian fashion.
Tosi nodded emphatically.
Diamond tried again. ‘On foot?’
‘Foot?’
Diamond lifted his leg and tapped the sole of his shoe.
Tosi took this as an Englishman’s attempt to learn Italian. ‘Si. Piede. Like football, eh?’
‘So he walked away?’ Diamond said, wiggling his fingers.
‘No, no.’ Tosi could do sign language as well. He stretched his forefinger and thumb as wide as they would go. ‘The signora, she have the tacco a spillo.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘Stiletto shoes, capisce? Walk? No way.’
‘Are you saying there was a lady with him?’
Tosi frowned. ‘Lady?’
In desperation Diamond remembered the waiter who spoke passable English. ‘Is Luigi here?’ Before getting a response he said to Halliwell, ‘See if the waiter’s out back.’
Luigi was brought from the kitchen and confirmed that Monnington had been in with a woman guest. The couple had left in a hurry after receiving the call on the mobile. They’d got into a taxi ten minutes ago.
‘Did you see them go?’ Diamond asked.
‘Sure.’
‘Which taxi firm?’
‘Abbey Radio.’
Halliwell called Abbey and hung on while they put out a message. The driver confirmed from his cab that he’d picked up a couple in George Street and dropped them off at a private house on Widcombe Hill.
‘What number?’
‘He didn’t get the number. They told him when they got there.’
‘Oh, great.’
‘Opposite a bus-stop about halfway up. A big house with stone griffins on the gateposts.’
‘Stone what?’
‘It’s a mythical beast.’
‘Never mind.’ They got in and drove off.
‘It’ll be easier than looking for a house number,’ Diamond said, trying to be positive, and he was right. The gate with the griffins came up on their right. Even better, a car he recognised as Monnington’s black Mondeo was on the drive.
There were lights behind the curtains of the tall Victorian villa. Halliwell radioed their position and said they were going in. The back-up team was being informed, they were told.
A delay in answering made the two policemen uneasy. Then the door was opened by a dark-haired woman in a low-cut black dress with spaghetti straps.
Diamond held up his ID and asked to see Dalton Monnington.
She looked apprehensive, but invited them in.
In the large, luxurious living room, Monnington, shoeless and in shirtsleeves, with tie loosened, was lounging on a sofa watching a DVD of some Johnny Depp film. He reached for the remote and touched the mute button.
‘Kill it,’ Diamond said. ‘I want your total concentration.’
Monnington switched off and then made his protest. ‘You’re hounding me. It’s a bloody imposition.’
‘We questioned you once in your own home. That’s no imposition,’ Diamond said.
‘This is someone else’s home.’
‘And you disappeared to it double-quick when I called you at the restaurant. We could have spoken there.’
‘I’m entitled to a private life.’
‘Or two, or three?’ Diamond said.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Car keys, please.’
‘What?’
‘We need to search your car.’
‘Again? What is it with you? You’ve been over my car. There’s nothing in there but brochures.’ He sighed and put his hand in his pocket.
Diamond passed the keys to Halliwell and indicated with a tilt of the head that the search had high priority.
‘And get your shoes on,’ he told Monnington. ‘We’re taking you in for questioning.’
Monnington’s woman friend watched in mute amazement as her date was escorted to the police car that had just arrived on her drive. Diamond remained with her, leaving the two uniformed officers to take the suspect in. There was a job to do, and it required the lady’s cooperation. She was Charlotte Brown, she said nervously when asked, known to everyone as Lottie. She’d met Dalton Monnington only last month when he’d asked to sit at her table at a busy time in the Retro Café in York Street. They’d clicked at once. This was their second evening together – or should have been.
‘I hardly know him at all,’ she said, and then realised how this could be taken and added, ‘It’s not what it sounds like. I don’t sit in cafés looking for men.’
‘You can relax, Lottie,’ Diamond said. ‘He’s the suspect, not you. We don’t know for sure, but between you and me, you may have had a lucky escape. Where was he staying?’
She reddened. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’
Halliwell returned from outside, eyes gleaming. ‘You’d better come and look at this, guv.’
‘Hang on a bit. When did he arrive?’ Diamond asked Lottie Brown. ‘Today?’
‘This afternoon, about four thirty. He called me this morning and said he was visiting Bath and I offered to, em, put him up.’ She was a serial blusher.
‘So did he have an overnight bag?’
More embarrassment. ‘It’s upstairs.’
‘Mind if I look?’
‘I suppose.’
Halliwell was practically jumping up and down in his eagerness to tell Diamond what he’d found. On the way upstairs he said
in a low tone, ‘I think we’ve nailed him.’
Monnington’s leather holdall was on a chair in Lottie Brown’s bedroom. Inside Diamond found a laptop among the clothes. He handed it to Halliwell. ‘I want our whizz-kid Clive to look at this.’
Lottie was getting uneasy. ‘Don’t you need a search warrant, or something?’
‘No, my dear. It’s your house and you invited us in. You’re not going to make our job more difficult, are you? Is that the door to the en-suite?’ He opened it and looked in. ‘He’s made use of it already, I see.’ A battery-powered razor was on the shelf over the hand basin. ‘Unless this is yours?’
‘No, that’s Dalton’s.’
‘And the washbag?’ He passed it to Halliwell.
‘That’s his, too. I don’t think you should help yourself to his things.’
‘He won’t need them here tonight. Let’s go downstairs again.’
In the living room, he asked if anything about Monnington had struck her as strange.
She was still unwilling to concede much. ‘I suppose I was surprised when we had to leave the restaurant in such a hurry.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘It was something to do with the phone call. Someone was being a nuisance, he said, and we’d better not stay.’
‘That was me,’ Diamond said. ‘The ultimate pain in the butt. Before he got the call was he acting normally?’
‘I thought so. He was being nice.’ Her look suggested that present company could take lessons from Monnington.
‘Did he talk about himself at all? His work?’
‘He told me all about that the first time. He’s a sales rep and he comes through Bath every month. What do they call those things? Jacuzzis. He said he could get me one at a knockdown price if I wanted, but he wasn’t pushing or anything.’
‘To sum up, then, there was nothing to cause you any concern in what he was saying?’
She shook her head. ‘What’s he supposed to have done?’
Out on the drive, Halliwell opened the boot of the Mondeo with the air of a conjurer producing the rabbit. ‘How about that?’
Diamond was prepared for something special, but nothing so special as this. His heart thumped against his ribcage.
‘The same, isn’t it?’ Halliwell asked.
Peter Diamond - 09 - The Secret Hangman Page 27
